#Box Clone

[saedyne]

nobody asked but my hot take is that i think kon's struggles with

being literally made to be superman

being given roles and expectations (as a hero/boyfriend/etc) based on that/how he looks and squeezing himself down into those expectations

being torn between duty/obligation (even and perhaps especially of the self-imposed variety) and his own sense of self

feeling like he outlived his purpose after coming back from the dead and not knowing what he's supposed to be now that he's done the superman thing (maybe even feeling like he needs the unbearable weight of expectation because without a job to do or a box to fit into he might dissolve into nothing because he's always avoided examining who he is when there's nobody he has to be i wonder why that is)

could. uh. y'know. all that could be read as quite...queer. in a pretty genderful way. but what do i know.

[kayberrie]

The Adventures of Boxsoka continue: ft. Skyguy

[padawansuggest]

Rex: What has you two laughing so hard?

Waxer: *wheezing*

Boil: *holds up his helmet* We tried to make a video with the General, like those ones owners do with pets where they wake them up with their favorite treat?

Fives: *comes at the sound of memes* Oh? How did it go?

Echo: What even /is/ his favorite treat? Tea?

Waxer: *shakily standing after wiping away the tears* It’s a specific blend of red that’s been banned from trade, but Senator Organa got him a few boxes of it recently.

Boil: I still think it would have worked.

Rex: Wait, you think? It didn’t work?

Boil: We tried, but Cody is guarding him, he’s wrapped /tight/ in a blanket roll and sleeping like the dead. Cody threatened my manhood if we woke him.

Waxer: *wheezing again* Instead we have footage of Cody smacking the shit outta us like an angry tooka.

Rex: lmaooo

[echo-coyote]

A conversation that neither are really paying attention to

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hi. Can you write something spicy with Wrecker x f! reader with the prompt 62. “Is that my shirt?” Maybe reader needs new clothes during a mission and she forgets her spares on Kamino, leading her to wear Wrecker's. She takes advantage of the situation to tease him a little, but we know Wrecker is a little innocent, until Crosshair opens his eyes.. "If you don't fu** her, I will." 😂

Hi,

Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely loved writing it!

What's Mine is Yours

While working on a mission on Corellia, a clothing mishap leads to much more than you anticipated.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: accidental clothes sharing, reader described as busty, lewd comment as motivation (one guess who it comes from…), confession of feelings, idiots in love, first kiss, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected PiV, squint for size and strength kink.

“Where the hell is it?” You huff, hands scrambling through your backpack as you pull out your belongings, scattering them across the dresser in the dingy hotel room.

You and the boys had been sent to Bela Vistal, a small mountain city on Corellia. The Jedi had caught wind of a shady auction, with whispers of a Holocron up for grabs. It was your job as a squad to scope the place out, gather as much intel as possible, and strike and extract the Holocron if the opportunity presented itself.

By now, you’re used to working with limited information. As a civilian handler, it was your job to fill in the blanks and help the boys with anything they needed to successfully complete their missions – something you’d spent over a year doing remarkably well at. Today that had included wandering around the city with Tech, pretending to be together – out of them all, his appearance was less likely to arouse suspicion. You’d conversed politely with market vendors and cantina owners, asking subtle questions to discover more about the auction.

Ultimately, it had been a fruitless endeavour, and the pair of you had returned to the hotel as the sun had been setting, food in hand. You’d excused yourself after eating, slipping back into your room via the door connecting the two rooms you’d rented for a quick shower.

And now here you were, furiously rifling through your belongings for a clean shirt. You’d packed one; you swore you had. Fingers finding soft fabric, you let out a small noise of triumph, prying the material from your backpack. Towel falling to the floor, you shimmed on a clean pair of panties and some sleep shorts before dragging on the top. Only once it was over your head did you realise something was off. Either you’d suddenly lost a lot of weight or…

Scrambling for the neckline, you twist and turn until you can see the tag and the large ‘W’ sewn into it. “Dank farrik.” You mutter, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the realisation that you’d somehow packed Wrecker’s shirt instead of your own.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror on the back of the fresher door. The oversized garment hit mid-thigh, the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. The only saving grace was that your boobs took up enough room that it gave the shirt a little bit of shape. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The thought of going out into the field wearing Wrecker’s clothing was hilarious, but your laughter soon subsided as you really looked at yourself. Oversized it might be, but it almost…suited you. And though it was clean, you lifted the collar to your nose and inhaled, picking up on a sweet scent that seemed to linger on all of Wrecker’s belongings.

You’d found great comfort in that scent over the last few months, drawn towards Wrecker and his infectious grin. Lips tugging into a smile, a tender warmth spread through you as you thought about the countless times Wrecker had been there to lighten the mood with his quips and laughter and how his protective nature made you feel secure amid the uncertainties of life.

The realisation of what your feelings meant hit you like a wave, and as you stood there, a myriad of emotions swirled within you. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by a soft, introspective silence. As you continued to gaze at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the depth of your connection with Wrecker. It went beyond the professional companionship forged across dangerous missions. It was something more personal, something that had quietly grown amidst the chaos of your work.

“Oh, kriff…” You whisper, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection. The sound of a knock on the connecting door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn towards it, momentarily forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. Smoothing down the fabric, you move across to open the door, revealing Hunter.

“Thought you might’ve drowned.” He quips as the door opens; your showers never usually take so long. Gaze dropping down, Hunter takes in the sight of you, chuckling. “Well, looks like you’re drowning, alright.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong shirt in our hurry to leave Kamino.” You admit sheepishly, feeling warmth in your cheeks as Hunter steps aside, revealing you to his brothers.

To his credit, Tech offers you a reassuring smile while Crosshair snorts in amusement. But it’s Wrecker’s reaction that catches you off guard the most.

Wrecker’s eyes widen as his gaze rakes down your body. “I-Is that my shirt?” He asks, swallowing thickly. Heat creeps across his cheeks as he admires you, the curves of your body making it look entirely different than it did on him. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart, and for a moment, the room is filled with an almost tangible tension. Wrecker stands frozen, his eyes locked onto you.

“Yeah, I, uh, must’ve grabbed it by mistake.” You stammer, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Wrecker blinks, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair. Hunter raises an eyebrow, clearly finding the situation entertaining but not commenting further. Tech adjusts his goggles, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Crosshair smirks, thoroughly amused. Clearing his throat, Wrecker manages to break the silence. “Well, it looks... good on ya.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and you catch a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. You give a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Thanks, Wreck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

“Nah, keep it.” He says quickly, almost too quickly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The room falls into another awkward silence as Wrecker scratches the back of his head, unsure how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It’s rare to see the big, boisterous man at a loss for words.

Hunter, always the pragmatist, breaks the tension. “Alright, enough of the fashion show. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

The seriousness of the mission looms over the room, momentarily overshadowing the awkwardness. You gather around the table, holomaps of the city and your datapads spread out as you discuss the action plan.

As the discussion progresses, Wrecker finds his eyes straying to you often, trying to commit the vision of you in his clothes to memory, the way it drapes over your frame and the subtle scent of your shampoo that he knows will linger on the garment now too.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks – the feelings he’s been trying to suppress, the concern that goes beyond the missions, the warmth he feels when you’re around – it’s all there, staring him in the face.

Wrecker clears his throat again, attempting to focus on the plan you’re all hashing out, not the crazy beating of his heart. He chimes in enthusiastically, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. As the planning continues, Wrecker catches the knowing look Tech throws him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to concentrate. He wonders if you feel the same, if the newfound awareness is mutual.

Finally, the planning ends, and with your usual round of goodnights, you’re back in your room, the connecting door firmly shut. Only once you’re gone does Wrecker feel like he can breathe again.

“Real subtle there, big guy,” Hunter comments, giving Wrecker’s shoulder a pat as he passes him.

“What?” Wrecker questions, playing dumb. He’s not quite ready to admit his feelings to his brothers; he’s just starting to come to terms with the recent revelation.

None of them are fooled. Tech reaches up, adjusting his goggles. “You were admiring her quite intently.” He points out.

“I would, too, if she were wearing my shirt.” Crosshair chimes in, leaning back on the small couch in the room, propping his feet up on the table as he feels Wrecker’s eyes narrow in his direction. “But hey, if you won’t kriff her, I will.” He comments, unafraid to poke the bear.

In sync, Hunter and Tech facepalm.

A flash of anger courses through Wrecker. “You wouldn’t.” He growls, hating the very idea. 

“Wouldn’t I?” Crosshair goads. “She’s a pretty little thing. Bet she’d looked even prettier underne-“

“Hey!” Wrecker’s sharp shout cuts him off. “You don’t talk about her like that. She deserves better, and I won’t let ya disrespect her. Not when she’s the best thing to happen to us in a long while and always lookin’ out for us.”

Amusement curls at Crosshair’s lips. Truth told, forcing those words out had been horrible – he respected you too much – but it had given him the ammunition he needed to make his point. “Hm, sounds like you might have some feelings there, Wrecker.”

Realising he’s been caught in one of his younger brother’s traps, Wrecker groans in frustration, shooting Crosshair a glare that bounces straight off him. With a sigh, Wrecker’s shoulders sag, and he glances over his shoulder towards the connecting door to your room.

Worry curls through him. He did have feelings for you, that much he’d realised, but he wasn’t sure how you felt. The thought of making things awkward or disrupting the dynamics of the squad by introducing personal feelings weighed heavily on Wrecker’s mind.

Hunter picks up on his brother’s internal struggle. “Wrecker, if you’ve got something to say to her, just say it. We’re all adults here. We’ve faced worse than admitting feelings.”

Wrecker sighs. “I just don’t wanna mess things up, y’know? What if she don’t feel the same way, and it makes things weird?”

Tech chips in with his usual logical perspective. “Statistically speaking, relationships formed within a close-knit team can enhance cooperation and overall performance. Emotional bonds can be beneficial.”

Wrecker shoots Tech an incredulous look. “You suggestin’ I tell her I like her ’cause it’s statistically beneficial?”

Tech pushes his goggles back up his nose. “I am merely presenting a logical argument in favour of expressing one’s emotions.”

A noise of frustration slides from Crosshair’s lips, and he pushes himself off the couch. Grabbing Wrecker by the arm, he drags him over to the connecting door, banging his fist against it a few times. “She was eyeing you up, too. Don’t overthink. That’s Tech’s job.” He insists, returning to the couch, shaking his head while muttering about Wrecker’s lack of game.

Hearing you say the door was unlocked, Wrecker takes a deep breath before pushing it open, sliding into your room, letting it click shut behind him.

With Wrecker gone, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair exchange glances before arranging themselves on the couch to play Sabacc. “You swapped her shirt out of her pack,” Hunter comments as Tech deals the deck, his eyes darting over to Crosshair.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Crosshair doesn’t bother answering; instead, he picks up his cards. Hunter couldn’t prove anything.

Looking up from the dresser, where you’d been trying to organise your belongings back into your backpack, you smile at the sight of Wrecker standing with his back pressed to the door. “Hey, Wreck. Everything okay?” You ask, abandoning your repacking to give the gentle giant your full attention.

Wrecker’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps further into your room, the weight of the revelation he’d shared with his brothers settling in his chest. He grapples with the best way to express his feelings to you, scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine.” He mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment. “I, um, just wanted to talk to ya about somethin’.”

You tilt your head curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Wrecker took another deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Well, it’s about... us. I mean, you and me. I’ve been feelin’ things, and I just gotta say it. I really like you. I like ya a lot.”

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and your heartbeat quickens in response. Surprise paints your face, delight seeping into your veins that your feelings were returned – that he’d come here to share them with you.

“Wreck.” You begin, your voice soft. “I’ve... I’ve been feeling the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washes over Wrecker’s features, and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. “Really?” he asks as if confirming that he wasn’t dreaming.

You nod, your own smile mirroring his. “Really.”

Wrecker chuckles nervously. “Well, guess Crosshair wasn’t entirely wrong about us eyein’ each other up.”

Your jaw drops a little. You’d thought you were being subtle, but you should’ve known the man with super-human vision would catch you out.

Wrecker takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his large hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “I’m not great with words, but I really do care about ya.” He confesses.

“I care about you too, Wreck. And you don’t need to be great with words.” You reply, your eyes locked with his. “Actions speak louder.”

“Then let me show ya.” Wrecker murmurs, head dipping down to kiss your lips tenderly. Large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. One of your hands finds home at the nape of his neck, keeping his lips against yours as the other settles on his upper arm.

You taste like heaven, like everything Wrecker has ever wanted and dreamed about. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly, but he’s cautious, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. The kiss breaks a moment later, eyes locked on one another as you pull apart, chests heaving. Desire swirls in your gaze, and Wrecker wants to worship you. But he’s conflicted – is this too soon? Do you want this too?

Palms smoothing across Wrecker’s body, you take his hands in your own, walking backwards the few steps to the bed. Sinking to sit on the edge of it, you guide Wrecker down with you, a thrill zinging through you as he wraps an arm around your middle and hauls you further up the bed before settling above you. With one hand supporting most of his weight, you marvel at how warm and broad he is, your body hidden under his as he presses against you, lips finding yours again for a searing kiss.

You’re so small beneath him, so delicate and so pretty, with your hair fanned across the sheets, your beautiful eyes looking up at him with such adoration. Wrecker can’t resist kissing you again, savouring your shared feelings. Tentatively, his hand roams to your thighs, large palm smoothing across soft skin, creeping up, ruching his shirt as his fingers skim under the edge of your sleep shorts.

The gentle touch makes your breath stutter, a low noise sliding from your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Wrecker pulls back, watching as your eyes flutter open. “Too much, babe?” He asks quietly, unsure whether the noise is good and not wanting to push too much.

Shaking your head, you lean up to pepper kisses across his jawline. “More. Please.” You ask, heat building in your belly.

Thrilled, Wrecker breaks out into a grin, shivering as your hands pry his shirt up and off his body. Your fingers fan over his bare chest, tracing every muscle and scar. His pants are next to be discarded, your sleep shorts joining them on the floor before your lips meet again in a needy kiss. Your panties go, followed by his boxers, but as you go to remove his shirt, Wrecker’s fingers still the action.

“Leave it on, babe.” He admits, a flush on his cheeks. There was something so intrinsically hot about you wearing his clothes.

A noise of delight leaves you, followed quickly by one of surprise as Wrecker rolls you both, placing himself beneath you. Straddling him, it’s impossible to ignore the press of his thick, hard cock. It feels enormous, and you’re almost afraid to look down.

Thankfully, you’re spared as Wrecker grabs your ass, huge hands dwarfing it as he hauls you up his body.

Wrecker groans, hands squeezing as he draws you further up. “Want you to sit on my face, babe. Lemme eat that pretty pussy before I kriff ya.”

Heat strikes through you, pussy clenching around nothing at Wrecker’s request. “I-I don’t wanna suffocate you.” You worry as you’re lifted over his face, knees on either side of his head. Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as he stares right at your cunt.

“Ya won’t. And even if you do, what a way to go.” Wrecker growls, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazes up at your pussy. Gently, he encourages you down, groaning in satisfaction as you rest lightly against his face – nose and mouth brushing against your slick folds. “That ain’t sittin’.” He grumbles as he notices you trying to hold up some of your weight. Using a little more of his strength, he pulls you down until you’re firmly against his face, his nose pressed to your clit as his tongue laves over your entrance.

“Oh, hells…” You cry out, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other lands on Wrecker’s head. That first lick of his tongue had felt incredible.

Wrecker feasts, your pussy his new favourite meal. The taste of you fills his mouth, and he moans, dragging his nose across your clit, tongue sloppy as he laves at you before pointing it and pressing it into your hole. He takes a breath whenever he can, drawing the flat of his tongue up through your folds to flick across your clit, lips latching around the sensitive bud so he can suck on it, brushing his tongue over it at the same time.

White hot pleasure is all you can feel, hips rocking as you ride his face, chasing your high. Your hand strokes across his head, fingers gliding over scarred skin. “Kriff, Wreck. Yes. Just like that.” You encourage, pleasure building quickly.

The stretch catches you off guard, two of his thick fingers pressing into you, crooking, as his mouth focuses on your clit. Head thrown back, his name falls from your lips as you come, thighs shaking and pussy spasming around his fingers as the pleasure rolls through your body.

Working you through the high, Wrecker gently pries his mouth off your clit, fingers slowly scissoring as he stretches you out a little more now that you’re more relaxed. He knows he’s big, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

Your hips roll slowly, grinding lazily against his face once again as he continues working you open, another thick finger joining the two already buried inside you. Biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan, the trembles from your orgasm subside.

Fingers slip from you, hands finding your hips. Lifted, you’re moved back down Wrecker’s body until he can kiss you, mouth and chin covered in your juices. You gasp at the taste, at the way his tongue presses into your mouth, and you lazily make out.

Slowly you draw apart; Wrecker’s fingers that weren’t buried in your pussy move to push your hair out of your face tenderly.

The throb between your thighs intensifies, and you lift your hips, shifting until you can grind down against Wrecker’s cock. The rumble in his chest does funny things to your inside, and you smile. “I wanna ride your cock, too.” You state sweetly, enjoying the delight that flares in Wrecker’s eyes.

Scooting back just a little so you rest on his thighs, you drag your gaze from his face to finally take in his cock. It’s much thicker than any you’ve seen before – in person and on the holonet – and longer than average.

He curves a little to the right, the tip flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum in the slit. Taking him in hand, his groan reverberates through the room, and you can’t help but dip down to lap at him, the tang on your tongue dragging a sound from you that Wrecker echoes.

Your fingers don’t touch around him, and for a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him. Shuffling forward a tiny bit until you’re back in your previous position, you line him up with your entrance, pressing just the tip in, and slowly start to sink down, letting gravity do the work.

Wrecker’s pretty sure he’s shaking – from anticipation or barely-there control, he’s not sure. All he does know is that his hands are wrapped around your hips to help guide you but not force you down, and inch by agonising inch, his dick is slowly being enveloped in the heat of your pussy.

The stretch burns a little, even after an orgasm and three fingers working you open. Taking your time, you let out deep breaths as you sink down until you’re finally flush, feeling fuller than ever. 

“Stars above, Wreck.” You pant, holding his gaze as you adjust to the feeling. His jaw is clenched, soft brown eyes looking at you with such profound adoration, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. His hands on your hips slide upward, under the edge of his shirt, until he’s grasping at your waist.

Steadily, you give a small roll of your hips, rising ever so slightly before sinking back down. The action pulls a moan from you, Wrecker’s head tilting back against the bed, his groan mingling with your needy sounds. Finding a rhythm, you lean back a little, hands resting on his muscular thighs as warmth builds in your belly with every rise and fall. The burn of the stretch dissolves into pleasure.

Chin tilting down, Wrecker watches as you ride him, how your lips part with every little whimper and sigh, and your tits bounce beneath his shirt. The sight goes straight to his cock, hand sliding up from your waist until he can palm your breasts under the garment, fingers pressed against soft flesh. You’re a handful, even for him, and he grunts, thumb and forefinger tweaking your pebbled nipples.

The whine you let out is delicious, and his gaze roves down your body, settling on where the two of you are connected, watching how he slides in and out of your pussy. The sight, the sounds, and the feeling of you around him push him closer and closer to the edge. Fingers smoothing back down your body, they press against your clit, firm circles rubbed against the sensitive nub.

“Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.” You curse, eyes screwed shut as the warmth grows towards an inferno. Pitching forward, you change the angle, hands resting against his broad chest, providing better leverage as your pace quickens. Your thighs start to ache, but you’ll be damned if you let that stop you.

“That’s it, babe. Hells, your pussy feels so kriffin’ good.” Wrecker pants, his words helping push you over the edge. Your body goes taut above him, pleasure contorting your face as you clamp down around him, coming on his cock with a cry of his name. He keeps his fingers moving, working you through the high until the tremors in your body stop and your hazy eyes open to meet his.

You share a soft smile, and Wrecker surges up, lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as he grasps back at your hips. Holding you in place, his hips snap quickly as he fucks up into you, chasing his high now you’ve been satisfied.

Tongues meeting, the kiss is frantic and messy, noises muffled by each other’s lips. You pull back just enough to gaze down at him. “Come in me. Please.” Your needy whine reverberates around the room.

You were perfect. So perfect. Your pleading words, the grip of your tight pussy around him… Wrecker’s thrusts falter, and with two more sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes himself deep inside you, growling out your name as he’s swept into pleasure, filling you.

The room falls silent except for your harsh breaths, gazes locked before you steal another kiss. Slower and softer, the lust dissolves into something sweeter. Strong arms wrap around you, and you’re rolled onto your side, pulled flush against Wrecker’s body as he pries his lips from yours. He smiles, and you can’t help but match it, a giggle bubbling up and out. The sound of Wrecker’s chuckle melds with yours, happiness simmering between you.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, one hand smoothing across your cheek, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch with a small nod, eyes fluttering shut. Wrecker’s hand is warm against your face as he caresses you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The aftermath of shared intimacy leaves you feeling content and connected.

Overjoyed, Wrecker presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, hand sliding down your body to wrap back around you as he holds you close. Now he has you, he’s never going to let you go.

In the cocoon of his embrace, you slowly drift into a serene slumber, knowing you’ve found a sanctuary that feels like home in his arms.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal

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[omaano]

A tragedy in action

If I don't look at canon it doesn't exist, but at the end of last year I was commissioned to paint this Order66 moment by CJ on Instagram. It was a very challenging but also amazingly emotional and very inspiring prompt - and while I've never drawn such an action focused pose before I am very pleased with how it turned out.

I also very badly missed using this much purple in my pictures TT^TT

Captain Dev and Padawan Jilia belong to CJ

[dragon-subway]

I like looking at the "just guys being dudes" kind of content because it's exactly what clones would do. College age guys digging holes for no reason other than fun.

Gotta love the classic “just guy being dudes” stuff they deserve it, man, makes em feel more alive. Some of my favourite stuff to draw fr fr

[eightspringdays]

if you have the feeling this arc may feel incomplete or something is off, take into consideration fujimoto is doing it on purpose

From this 2021 interview with Da Vinci magazine. Fujimoto doesn't spoon-feed you the content, he never has and I think the charm resides in that he never will

[sinisterexaggerator]

[bobsyauncle]

The Jedi council really said that Jedi can’t form attachments but all Anakin heard was ‘form attachments’

[archivewriter1ont]

Cadet Batch Quotes

Kix: *giving all the Cadet Batch a checkup* Would you space monkeys hold still?! You’re gonna break my sphygmomanometer!

Cadet Wrecker: *chokes* Your WHAT?

Cadets Crosshair and Hunter: *dissolve into giggles*

Cadet Tech: *condescendingly* It should not be so funny... it is a real word.

Cadet Wrecker: You say it then!

Cadet Tech: Sphygmomanometer.

The Other Three: *falling down laughing*

Kix: Oh for crying out loud.

Echo: Can we check if their giggle boxes are connected or something?

Jesse: Wait, we have GIGGLE BOXES??!!

Rex: *facepalms*

[its-a-me-mango]

Mr puzzle How is your kid doing rn

Fantastic.

[last-of-cheese]

I was informed that Bad Batch pop figures existed so naturally I had to immediately go buy my two favorite boys. I'll be buying the others next month but right now I just needed Echo and Cross.

And I've had a really rough past few days so for them to arrive today really made things so much better.

@kark-trooper-echo and @superiorsniper look how perfect you fit on my shelf.

[tobyig]

can we all agree Obi-Wan Kenobi fucked Cad Bane while he was cosplaying as Rako Hardeen in that one Clone Wars arc?

[dragon-subway]

you keep using clones to test things, why?

They make great test subjects! The armour is fairly human-anatomy-like and something I can draw from memory while still being interesting to do - just find some pose on pintrest and go! Plus, with it being armour means I also have to think about and convay the thickness to make it convincing which is finer detail I think?

Theyre also just really satisfying to my brain to draw, they (or at least the way i draw them, since I dont exactly draw accurate to any one offical depiction) have a rhythm to the shapes I enjoy immensely which makes doing the tests that much more enjoyable

This one, for example, was done to get used to using the press keys on my tablet again

[kryte-col]

bitches be like "I am so normal and well adjusted."

And then rotate a fictional man around in their head for 12 hours straight like he is in a microwave just to get through the day

it's me, I'm bitches