#clone wars be BLOCKY

[shadowthestoryteller]

Tested some sketches based more on the blocky clone wars style but with my Adventures!AU takes on the Batchers✨

Pros: I got a little better at expressions

Cons: My self insert looks Anakin Skywalker 😬

Also don’t mind Trevor, he’s plotting. This set of sketchies would be their appearances during Book 1, hence the human-ness of my self-insert

[cranberrytart451]

Can't get enough of this dude

[jewishcissiekj]

Rewatched Hunt for Ziro (Quinlan's one of two TCW appearances, S3E9) because now I have more information about Quin and wanted to judge his characterization but now I have like a bunch of quinobi screenshots so:

Why is this episode so gay. What was the reason. Did they know wherever Quinlan goes homosexuality follows. Oh he has an effect on you. You are both men. What's wrong with you

Dude why was his second line in the ep complimenting a dude Also why is he trying to squeeze his way into every homoerotic relationship of Obi-Wan. First Cody then Cad Bane dude maybe chill Additionbally I strongly dislike his TCW design, maybe it's the blocky shapes that don't fit with the fluid image of him from the comics I have in my mind or maybe it's just that I hate the TCW style and maybe both It just doesn't work for me idk

KEEP YOU FUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELF MAN WE KNOW YOU WANT HIM

Quinobi content but at what cost (reduced to a comic relief character)

Yeah well where else would your eyes be looking deep into the other's eyes what the hell Obi-Wan

I need them dead

This is a 20 minutes episode where men touch each other more than they do in the other 132 Clone Wars episodes love me some 'close friends'

Holy shit they're holding hands!!!@!@!!!11!11 holy fuck!!!!!!21!1

Geuine question what is Quin looking at here for almost 10 seconds. That's not where Obi-Wan eyes are. Is he just staring at hs chest. Is he looking at his- *gunshot* (Is that what Obi-Wan meant by keeping their eyes forward)

I never doubted you moment! Woah this is just like Star Wars: Republic #70-

Hey why are you fighting with another man's lightsaber. Why is he putting his life in your hands. Why. Perish.

Yeah ok next one

You are? hanging off a cliff? with another man?

Insane that this is how their portion of the episode end. You'll know they'll be ok with each other. Especially after seeing that gayass smirk

His only (TCW) apperance after this was in Destiny (S6E12) btw, and probably the only thing close to an interaction with Aayla (HIS FUCKING PADAWAN) in canon

He should've had full Jedi robes here idc if it wouldn't make sense for them to design an entire thing for a bg character that appears for 10 second he's wearing his mission gear it's stupid

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (like, hella angst), non-canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, animal injury/death (I’M SORRY), Reader experiencing Trauma TM, Obi doing his best.

Summary: While leading a clone battalion through a routine supply delivery, you suffer a surprise ambush. However, with Obi-Wan away leading the rendezvous as he simultaneously investigates new elements surrounding your being, you are left alone to make the hard-hitting decisions expected of leaders during The Clone Wars. But when the present meshes with the past, how will you perform as deeply buried struggles are forced to the surface?

Song Inspo: Alone — Neil Finn

Words: 9.1K

A/n: Oh boy, this one is gonna be heavy y'all. And that's all I'll say. Enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

You lose them a thousand times in a thousand ways. You say a thousand goodbyes. You hold a thousand funerals — Sara Seager

“80% of the containers have been secured in the port bay with the rest being carried in as we speak,” Boil relayed, pointed finger strictly scrolling through his datapad that hummed a striking cobalt glow amidst Lanos’s softer, earthy tones.

He stood at the ready to your left with his helm resting under an arm, taking in each and every two-to-three digit number emanating from the device while you surveyed the array of pale blue repulsersleds bustling atop the port’s grayed, metal landing platform. Ferrying tightly strapped cargo into the bay alongside their clone guardians like a flawless, tapered conveyor belt adhering to a strict timetable.

Most notable, however, was the way this living machine collectively dwarfed the sporadic bands of clone lieutenants who, toting their own Republic-issued datapads, coordinated delivery logistics with counterpart supply port stationaries. Though the brighter energies that rippled through the Force certainly haggled for a higher podium, as the latter of those two, similarity garbed groups seemed all the more enlivened by the marginal increase in activity on such an otherwise docile planet.

“The station Sergeant is currently off-base engaging another matter—,” Boil mentioned off-handedly. “—but sends his regards.”

“Thanks, Boil,” you hummed, silver orbs drifting beyond the organized fuss that circled like bees calculating predetermined patterns long ago inscribed in their very DNA.

Those same eyes flitted by the steel, square-cut terrace’s narrowed path which assumed the shape of a bottleneck in its stretch through the far, inner bay. Then, past the raised, blocky, metallic structure trading in checkered viewports for highly reinforced paneling. One that every day offered the station’s clones a welcome retreat from the planet’s emphatically beating, yellow sun. Just as it shielded them from any other element posing as a threat to the Republic’s mission.

To its perseverance through this war.

“I suppose the next step is to finish the delivery before regrouping to return to The Negotiator,” you evenly deduced. “Right?”

The sharp-eyed clone offered a slight nod. “Affirmative.”

But even foreign structures that cried Coruscanti architecture and hammered down brutalist design amidst Lanos’s creamy breezes and florid expanse did little to hold your attention. Those motionless, gray confines battling against any root or creeping vine that dared to snake under its foundation or slither across its walls failed to yank at your outer lip’s muscles.

At least, not with a vigor comparable to the involuntary jolt you felt strike those same nerves just from the swiping flash of a certain bunch of saffron fur scampering by the tree line.

Though, in spite of the curious, fox-like creature’s daring attempts to acquire the title ‘Honorary Republic Recruit’ from afar, the attentive animal still maintained a devoted caution as they steered a wide berth around the manmade metals which, like a disease, thinned the once lusciously stretching trees bordering its walls.

Instead, the well-groomed critter found temporary solace in nuzzling their tail with cheerfully squinted eyes amidst the deeper, healthier greens and sturdier trunks carrying thicker bark. A microcosm of the wider forest’s hilly character, which rolled around the entrenched, and fairly hidden, compound before flinging back out again for miles, like massive waves frozen in time millennia ago to house a countless abundance of life.

“If you’re worried about that animal interfering with platform operations, I can send a few boys to scare it off.”

“No, no,” you quickly assured with a flicking wave of your hand, dismissing the no-nonsense clone while silver eyes strung to distant, peering yellows.

“That’s alright. They aren’t hurting anyone. Just curious.”

“Understood,” he asserted quickly before stretching back into his planned briefing with a muscle memory akin to the dash of his head toward the glowing datapad.

“Because the storm has cleared it should be an easy takeoff. The shuttles will be able to meet us at port.”

“Sounds like our legs will finally get a break,” you teased lightly, sending the horseshoe-bearded man a knowing glance.

A deep, throaty chuckle fell from his lips as you lifted a few fingers to flit away another droplet of sweat rushing down your forehead from the increasingly belting heat and weakening gusts whose dying breaths failed to chill the air.

“I certainly hope—“

A sharp, singeing thread tugged at your prickling senses from within the Force, snapping your neck toward the source of the sensation before the flaring, scarlet bolt rapidly consuming your vision launched your nimble body, arms fanned out, to roughly shove Boil out of the way. Sending you both tumbling toward the unforgiving ground as the steaming blaze just barely hurled above each of your heads.

“Ambush!” You screamed after sorely rolling off the rather surprised clone and onto a less bruised back, primary hand clawing for your belt.

Your madly thrashing heart reigned into a steady chill with the initial pulse of adrenaline beginning to wean. And by pure chance alone, it was in that very brief second, as blood rushed past ear drums, that you began to feel an unexpectedly sudden heat center on your left wrist.

Thrusting that very arm up and into your vision, you spotted the sporadic, bubbling crackles and scarlet sparks of a damaged wrist comm whose drooping, dark metal structure threatened to melt into your already itching arm.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, right hand tightly wrapped around your unclasped saber as you levied it to thwack off the sizzling comm, permitting the decaying device to clatter across the dense platform as it sibilated into spare parts.

Having freed yourself of that discomfort, you swiftly ignited the saber’s buzzing, gray glow before angling toward the damage-inflicting direction. Yet even still amidst such a swift spin, you couldn’t help but absorb just how the landscape’s bright aura, which once overshadowed the rear port’s barren metallurgic twilight, now hung moodier as peaceful woods suddenly turned not so serene.

Emerging from the left side of a large hill positioned before the facility appeared an ever-growing array of creaking and whining metallic beasts.

With the prickling hairs atop the nape of your neck, you felt as the rear clones rushed to their assigned stations while a line of at least ten… twenty….. thirty and counting mustard yellow, beaked droids carrying stringy arms and legs jounced through the ground’s apex with grimy, heavy-duty blasters secured in hand.

Interspersed within their ranks and towering at least triple their size inched forward a darker, all-encompassing model whose pointed soles shredded verdant grass into marred, brittle soil. Colicoid-like droids that commanded three jointed legs, two weaponized arms, and a spine contorting into some sort of red-fanged face that curved inwards, all behind a spherical shield which quivered a transparent blue.

That’s what must’ve nearly hit Boil, you surmised, when another one of those cold, rigid arms blasted off a similarly behaved bolt toward a far cargo container. Shattering it into scattering, hot white-and-red shards, and sending a few nearby clones flying by some feet as a cacophony of shocked yells stalked their paths.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that second blast was enough to effectively signal the rest of the progressively expanding battalion to finally commence their full-fledged attack.

Streaks of thick, fiery crimson, slender orange, and harsh blue beams coated the sky like violent patchwork, darkening the planet’s once stilled and luscious atmosphere into one of rising, smoky death. Filling your nostrils with the noxious scent of burning plasma and battering your eardrums with strained voices that desperately shouted all around you.

“Men, with me!”

“I need help over here!”

“Medic!”

“Move back! Move back!”

“You two, blast ‘em Rollies!”

Their echoes careened over the sharp buzz of your saber as it swung through the air to collide with showering beams. And while, foregoing your long lost wrist comm, you remained relatively unscathed, you still struggled to afford the men fighting alongside you that same luxury.

Far to your left, a quintet of clones gradually retreated through a clean, V-formation as blue spires erupted from their phasers. Only for the incoming brigade’s ceaseless fire to clip the far right soldier’s arm, tearing at his upper plate which oozed a deep crimson athwart its snowy glaze.

Another profuse liberation of deadly rain, and an additional victim emerged as a flaming, hot bolt dug its way through the stepping foot of one of the middlemen, eliciting a pained groan while smoke sprang from the blackening wound.

You tried to help them. Mostly by tapping into their interlinkage with the all-encompassing Force as you’d discovered to do in recent weeks. Relying on this riddled tactic to empower your connection against insurmountable odds as you shoved pre-fired blaster heads into non-lethal directions and tugged out the legs from underneath yellowed battle droids while their brethren marched on unfazed and unfettered.

It wasn’t a chief, battle-altering tactic, but it was sure to meet at least one goal you had in mind: doing everything in your power to give the clones around you those precious, few extra seconds needed to seek cover from this overwhelmingly multiplying attack force.

But you only had so much to give.

No matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off the eternal task of reflecting away each bolt that careened toward your person. And that was all while making every attempt to reduce the droid’s numbers with a deliberate swipe of your saber or a dexterous application of the Force. But it was when you considered the added responsibility of aiding any nearby clone struggling to defend against perpetually growing enemy numbers that the muddling task became quite daunting.

Suddenly, the corner of your vision caught a familiar, garish tone, drawing your gaze back behind the gradually receding quintet and toward a clone marked by an unavoidable, olive-green circle. A symbol that would’ve blended with the planet’s wider greenery had the billowing plasmic smoke been given enough time to clear.

However, unlike the rest of the platoon, this particular soldier chose instead to steadily march forward, soon passing the withdrawing V-formation like passing ships in the wildest of starless space sectors as he covered their retreat with an azure floodlight of bolts flying from his blaster.

“Get back, Getter!” You commanded, saber swinging elegantly in a controlled retreat as you sent an occasional hard glance toward the disobedient clone.

“I’m Forward Line!” He shouted through the muffled feedback of his sound-amplified helmet, failing to spare any glance away from the threat that marched head-on.

His feet crept forward, indefinite tone communicating his plans while the increasing barrage of bolts threatened your versatility.

“I’ll cove—“

A dense, blistering flare of plasma swiped straight through the eye of Getter’s helmet, leaving a charred, flaky perforation in its place that stifled his body like an off-switch.

He didn’t even tense.

Instead, the moment gravity recalled its birthright, he collapsed like a rag doll. Simply becoming a jumbled pile of arms and legs.

Your jaw slackened as a pinprick chill consumed your body.

“Silvey! Orders!?” Boil cried from close behind as his blaster ricocheted into the panoramic mob.

Row upon row unfurled across the hill’s peak, spilling into the valley’s depths like loose marbles from an endlessly deep bucket.

Though the frigidity that repeatedly ripped down your spine seemed to momentarily disconnect you from its horror as your mind focused on the present threat.

Those larger, curved ‘Rollies’ could transform into whirling spheres, empowering them to rocket down the hillside. Treating anything you were unable to Force shove away in time, be it scattered equipment or Front Line clones, like loose pins for the taking.

And it seemed, as your brain dizzied at the lives being ripped out of good men’s hands, that such a manipulation considered effortlessly simple by any Jedi was becoming too much of a task.

“Get a comm to Kenobi that we need reinforcements yesterday!—“ You yelled somewhat hazily as your mind desperately centered a connective blanket around one of the barreling Rollies so to redirect it into another speeding down beside it, coercing their shields to interact and combust into blue sparks and stinging flames.

You heaved in another gasp of chemically tinted, plasmic smoke.

“—And to bring any ideas on how to cut off this slope! Else we’re sitting ducks!”

“Copy!” He called before you sensed him spin on his heel toward the rear command center.

Until your next words stopped him in his tracks.

Because Getter’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

And you needed to do something.

“I’m getting in the trenches to try to cut these rolling things off!”

You creaked your neck sideways as another hot blast whizzed past your tingling ear.

“You’ll need support!” He advised with a hand cupping his mouth. “I’ll redirect a few boys your way!”

Another bolt diverted toward an unsuspecting set of droids smashed a few of the batch’s heads together.

“No!” You slammed, fending off another wall of vivid fire.

No more men die today.

They can’t.

Not during your first command.

Not ever.

Not after—

No.

“You focus on getting that message to the General,” you continued with gritted teeth, saber spinning into a swelling, pallid fireball. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Now go!”

His boots squeaked against the once sun-dried platform, now spattered with occasional streaks of thick, deep-crimsoned goop. Smattering the sound of his voice as the subtle scent of copper trailed in the air like itinerant pollen that clogged your sinuses and sullied your tastebuds.

“Comm to me in the bay!”

—

Oh, Anakin.

That was the repetitive acknowledgment encircling Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he silently observed Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Chancellor Palpatine’s shivering, blue holocomms occasionally snap out of shape, all while he stood casually in one of the ship’s empty, gray conference rooms to ensure a private meeting.

Calling from such distances was sure to elicit additional signal disturbances, and, sometimes, would even cause temporary blackouts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, for the General, none of those occurrences prevented Kenobi from discovering his former Padawan’s unsanctioned change of plans through a similar comm exchange a few hours ago.

Of course, it was his responsibility to ensure the arrival of the escort in Anakin’s charge. Maybe that’s because, whether tied to the mission or not, Obi-Wan always seemed to be the first to learn about Skywalker’s impulsive decisions. This time being his insubordinate choice to rope his own Padawan into a patched-together rescue mission following ambivalent reports regarding Master Plo Koon’s fleet.

He certainly always found a way, didn’t he?

Yes, technically, because it was just Anakin and Ahsoka redeploying, then the convoys would be unrestricted in meeting the arranged rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

But still, Skywalker was a General now. Could that chestnut-haired man not go off on his own without at least informing another Jedi tasked with this mission first?

Anakin could have told him.

And, honestly, while Kenobi knew he would’ve put up a bit of a fight at the suggestion of such a change of plans, the Jedi Master still fully comprehended that, in the end, he had the trust to watch his former Padawan go.

Because, deep down, Obi-Wan knew that, despite the potential strategic sacrifice, it was the right thing to do.

Not that he had much choice to do anything else since Skywalker had already arrived at the attack site.

And now, consequentially, in his station as both military General and Jedi Council member, Kenobi was the one required to deliver this pesky news to the necessary officials in his place.

“Twice the trouble, they have become,” Master Yoda sighed, rounded eyes dribbling toward the ground in contemplation. “A reckless decision, Skywalker has made.”

The weary Chancellor’s snow-white furrow deepened. “Let us hope it is not a costly one.”

Palpatine exhaled gradually, dipping gaze giving room for the three Jedi hovering subserviently in his presence a moment to absorb the flickers of combat fatigue that affected the deciding politician. Though, despite the momentary pause, the Chancellor was quick to recover, flicking his far-out stare toward the trio with a manufactured smile that struggled to assure that he was, in fact, quite alright.

“I do apologize, gentleman, but I have another meeting with the Senator from Kestos Minor shortly, so I must leave you.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Kenobi acknowledged for the Jedi in attendance.

And with that, the former Senator’s unstable image evaporated into azure sparks before fading into the room’s wider darkness.

“An eye on your former Padawan, you must keep,” Master Yoda noted, motioning a hand clasped around his irregularly curved gimer stick toward Kenobi. “An update, I request, next we meet.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan assured. “I will keep track of him.”

But not before addressing the puckering questions that prodded his brain tissue all afternoon.

At least, ever since speaking with you.

“Do you have a moment, Master Windu?” Kenobi questioned, just as the Grand Master’s digital picture similarly flickered into cerulean specks of nothingness.

The older Master glanced at Obi-Wan out of his peripheral, torso still respectively angled toward the empty cavity where Yoda’s silhouette once stood before smoothly pivoting with a subtly tilted neck toward the inquisitive Jedi.

“I do,” he punctuated with taught features. “And what is this regarding?”

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan plainly replied, allowing his voice alone to carry him through the next few seconds so to disallow himself from failing to speak of these matters at all.

“I was made aware earlier today that they were not fully informed of their condition following the incident. As their Master, and the one tasked with notifying them in place of the Healer, I was hoping to inquire as to why?”

A blank stare of unreadable stillness crossed the thousand light years in a fashion only Mace Windu, complexion of secrets and answers, could achieve.

“As their advisor, I provided only necessary information,” he clarified simply with the gesturing support of his hand. “It was unnecessary to subject Silvey to the past when they successfully recovered.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into an imperceptibly partial frown.

Perhaps Master Windu… knew more than he was letting on?

He talked of deeming certain details imperative to share, which could suggest that there were facts being kept secret, even from you, for reasons beyond the bearded Jedi’s current knowledge.

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan convinced himself.

It would be the only explanation for such a decision, he thought. For seemingly sending you on a mission without any concern for the unknown factors at play, and for this indefinite justification of why.

That would be the only thing that made any lick of sense.

And that also could’ve meant, maybe, just maybe, Kenobi wasn’t the only one beginning to sense remnants of your mind within the Force.

Perhaps Mace Windu already discovered this development. Or perhaps, it was even possible the elder Master had something to do with it.

That, as your ‘advisor,’ he was already a few steps ahead. And that, in your meditation sessions, he found something. Triggered something.

Knew something.

Either way, the General desired to understand.

“And how are we to know that?” Kenobi tested carefully, eyeing the strict Jedi’s cheekbones for any small, reflexive hint. “You yourself admitted to an inability to perceive their mind, the cause of these headaches, or the incident’s nature. By those facts alone, how can it be possible to assume that this is truly in the past?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line with arms confidently folded into themselves, Master Windu intrepidly spoke as broadened shoulders secured his stance.

“The Republic is in need of more Jedi on the field. You of all people are aware of that fact, Master Kenobi,” he stated. “I made the most reasonable decision given our circumstances. Such details are not of our immediate concern. We cannot afford it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the taught string of confusion and wiry cords of astonishment that knit across his forehead, muscling down the rest of his features like a sudden tug on the loose end of an interwoven thread.

Mace knew nothing.

And, with that in mind, Kenobi never expected such indifference to be applied to a situation deemed incomprehensible by even the Grand Master himself a few days earlier. Toward a state of affairs clouded by the ever-living Force in a plum of enigmatic readings, which, to the Council, was always a less than desirable sign.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Said the Code.

So then to brush this all off? And dismiss its repercussions to his own mentee, no less.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, curling a few knuckles to provide his chin a thoughtful rest. All in an attempt to imbue the Force with interim civility as his mind rapidly flipped through Mace’s words.

And it didn’t take long for him to realize that all this… Every decision made concerning you…

It was this war.

It was changing Windu like it was changing all of them. All the Jedi. Causing them to lose sight of what was once important in the days before the Battle of Geonosis.

But this wasn’t right.

Something was clearly influencing you. And, despite the Republic’s shifting priorities, Mace needed to be reminded that this situation, no matter how diverting, was just as important to the Council’s overarching mission as its efforts in this war.

To the Jedi’s purpose.

To peace.

These headaches and their culminated crisis may have evolved into a creature of the past. But it was their state of unpredictability, and the Galaxy-altering implications of a Guardian thrown from commission, which convinced Kenobi that the Council mustn’t lose sight of such solemnity. Especially not during a decade in which the Grand Master sensed the Force to have grown, in some pockets, indecipherable.

And no matter what, you deserved to know the full nature of these incidents.

Obi-Wan’s jaw released, poking away the useless support of bent fingers as his arm fell to the side at a rate equal to the blooming resolution which consumed the bearded man’s blue-eyed countenance. A visual marker, or signature stamp, of the Master Jedi’s acceptance that no war would stymie him from making these very thoughts known to the glitching holocomm across from him.

So much so, that he nearly missed the echoing chime of the conference room’s automatic door as its mechanics whirred open.

“General!”

Kenobi’s neck snapped toward the urgent inflection shimmering from Commander Cody’s tensed lips, just as brightly as the orange embellishments accenting his trooper armor reflected the white lights streaming overhead.

He was leaned into a forward stance, a puff of air proving him not a still-life statue as he caught his balance. All in an effort to suddenly halt a spirited sprint into the conference room that eventually, from the exertion alone, impelled him to expel the rest.

“There’s been a surprise attack on the supply port and the platoon left behind on Lanos.”

A dryness consumed Kenobi’s tongue as another simply armored clone dashed through the same whirring, mechanical door. Sprightly stepping up to whisper a few quick words to his Commander just before the aperture behind him buzzed shut once more.

“Reports of heavy casualties,” Cody parroted with an ear leaned toward the newly arrived lieutenant. “And they are requesting immediate reinforcements.”

“I will leave you to address this more immediate concern, Master Kenobi,” Windu relayed from the twitching holocomm image strikingly emanating from behind; his expression stilled except for the subtle twinge of disappointment drooping the outer corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed, clearing his voice as moisture coated a tickling throat.

At least enough for him to sign off with one final message aimed toward his fellow Council member.

“I will see you at the rendezvous.”

—

A burning ache entangled each limb’s muscles like winding vines as you fended off the coming onslaught. Centering yourself in the lowest dip of the valley’s crease wasn’t necessarily the most strategic move given your current predicament. Especially considering it labeled your dodging figure as prime target practice for the ropes of Rollies that erratically spun down the hillside at spine-chilling speeds.

But you didn’t have any choice.

Not if you hoped to become an unbreakable barrier of pure might and agility, impeding a near three-hundred mix of droids threatening the platoon’s lives who hastily regrouped behind you.

Various squad formations would mark the best vantage points atop the port’s landing platform from which to lay fire upon the siege. Though that was the extent to which the battalion could effectively participate. Joining you in the, quite literal, trenches was a death sentence to any non-Force Sensitive individual hoping to take a stand against an attacking strength of this magnitude.

It was your ability, and your ability alone, to navigate the rapidly shifting elements of surrounding energies that empowered you to fight in their place while dodging and manipulating droids who shot walls of steady fire or suddenly sprung at you with their dense, steel bodies.

Yet, no matter your resilience, you still possessed the same weakness every other living being faced in adrenalizing circumstances.

You were growing quite exhausted.

“Reinforcements are almost here!” You heard Boil yell from far behind while he used a nearby repulsersled flipped into a makeshift shield to traverse the compound drowned in chemical fires and bloodied chaos. “You can’t stay there forever!”

You wrapped your fingers around the air as invisible claws shimmied their way around a Rollie barreling toward your figure before rapidly thrusting that same fist to the side, leading the machine’s suddenly bouncing trajectory to hurtle into a group of about eight battle droids.

One in particular sluggishly swiveled its head toward the oncoming sight with subtle reservation as it expelled creaky, undulating words.

“Oh no.”

Until they became another scattered pile of far-flung, broken parts, an explosion colored by blasting crimson and cobalt sparks.

“I’m gonna have to!” You called back, the swing of your saber nearly transforming into a cloudy blur of heat before your very, watering eyes as you deflected bolt after bolt while sidestepping through the uneven hollow. “We’ll lose our only advantage!”

“Excuse me for saying, Silvey, but I think that losing a Jedi will be cutting our advantage!”

You knew he was right.

But you were quickly learning that in war, there was no easy choice.

You weren’t going to lose anyone else.

Maker… you couldn’t.

You just… couldn’t.

A scorching, slash clawed into your left calf, electrifying all the way down to your ankle as a surprised yelp was drawn from your lips.

And it wasn’t long before that very foot and sorely exercised knee buckled under the shocking pressure, slamming both roughly into the dirt as you felt another breeze graze the touches of your back exposed by rips in the fabric. All from those quick tumbles against newly jagged ground with raised rock shards and disturbed mounds formed by the ongoing conflict.

You briefly glanced down to assess the damage, relying on your senses' contextual intertwinement and the dancing light of your gray saber to defend against the ongoing downpour of bolts. Showers that fell from the hilltop with such magnitude that you could’ve sworn the sky was crying smoky tears.

Speaking of bolts, it appeared one had cut you down pretty good as a severely bloodied laceration oozing black, bubbling soot stingingly throbbed the bottom half of your leg. Consuming your vision with its strongly contrasting, dark tinge even amidst your armor’s shadowy undertones.

So much for those Republic-tested shin guards, you internally grunted.

And, regrettably, with one leg out of commission, it didn’t take long for your wearied body and continuously fogging gaze to make another mistake.

Even if it was only for a split second.

While desperately side-crawling toward the landing pad, in an effort to impede an enemy group from its newly-angled, swift approach, you missed an arbitrary bolt that collided with the hilt of your saber. Snapping it out of your hand as its protective covering took the brunt of the blast, but still flung it a few meters out from your grip all the same.

Your head spun back toward the main invading Force, only to be met with an inky black blaster whose cold body was levied mere centimeters from your forehead.

Dark spots crept into your peripheral like a predator surveying its prey as your palms dug into the disturbed dirt below.

“Wow, look guys!” The titillated battle droid exclaimed. “I got a Jedi!”

Shades of flaming red exploded before your very eyes.

But not for the reason you thought.

No, whatever that was, it wasn’t blood.

It was much more…

Much too…

Fuzzy?

Scrapping at whatever strength you had left, you focused your shaky stare above. Only to be met with the strikingly pigmented fox of before, wrapped around the battle droid’s torso like a constricting tendril as it gnawed with growling rage at the mechanical thing’s armed skeletal limb.

“Ah! What is this?” The off-yellow machine bellowed. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He spun in unsteady circles, flinging his targeted arm as if fire consumed its nonexistent nerves, drilled feet stumbling over each other while the fox laid savagely into their assault.

Until the droid hoisted its other revolving hand, slamming it down once, and then twice, across the creature’s wet snout. A sickening crack, and its shiny, fur coat slung from the machine before landing as a mangled heap onto the ground.

You thrust a hand toward your saber, scratching at the Force to coax it to your fingers as it catapulted into your grasp.

A reflection of the blaster’s barrel stung your eye.

One squealing pop flung through the air.

And then another.

“Good riddance,” the droid mumbled while it drearily kicked the still warm, but entirely lifeless creature left at its feet.

You were too late.

You were always too late.

Qui-Gon’s paled skin. His glazed, breathless eyes.

And then you saw it.

You swore you saw it.

A flash of that horned, devil face harshly stomped across the fox’s barren throat.

And your blood ran cold.

So frigid, that an icy film must’ve shielded your eyes while they blurred in contest with an increasingly congested mind. The resonating cries of commanding clones, marching mechanical feet, and rushing metal clamoring against loose bolts all melded into a muddled echo of the past. Even Boil’s distended calls, which freely rang around inching droids as he laid down fire, melded into the rest of the world.

Instead, a high-pitched tone displaced their existence, slackening your jaw and dangerously slowing your breath while a weight unlike any other yanked down at your sternum.

And amidst all that drowning havoc, you barely noticed the large, gray shuttle with faint red accents descend before you.

Almost immediately, and with growing intensity, its engines were able to sweep away any nearby battle droids as they flung and tumbled across the grass like loose scraps. Even the Rollies found their maneuverability stifled as they transformed back into a legged form before being tossed away like loose credits via their curvature alone.

Yet, even though the vehicle landed between you and the incoming fire, its rear door descending as a fluttering ivory robe and flashes of white armor darted down its ramp, it was still not enough to rip you out from yourself.

It was only partially, that your awareness sparked, and for a moment oh so brief, as a flash of auburn tufts poked a hole in that stunned cataract.

“Silvey!”

A distant echo among muffled blaster fire, but the ringing tone did seem to partially subside.

“Silvey! Can you hear me?!”

You swallowed, vision clearing just enough to recognize a familiar pair of widened, bright blue eyes.

Though you had no idea how he got here.

“Obi-Wan?” You questioned hazily with scrunched brows.

“Let’s get you to the ship!” He declared firmly, eyes drifting toward your mangled leg as a hint of displeasure creased his eyes.

But he hesitated for only a second before quickly wrapping his fingers around your free arm to tug you that away.

And, truth be told, it was that moment, that single moment, the warm feeling of his grip as plasmic fumes assaulted your senses, that became the last instant of Lanos you truly remembered.

You recalled the gentle pressure of Kenobi’s fingers releasing your arm into the shuttle just before it lifted from the ground while he sprinted off, pearly armor catching the sun’s smoke-scattered glare as he joined the fight. And you could remember the stinging weight that dragged at your muscles as you stood for the first time after the hull abruptly docked at The Negotiator.

A feeling that haunted you with each step you traversed from the shuttle bay to your temporary quarters.

You could even recall the taste of the stale ship air that reigned menial against Lanos’s essence of fresh vegetation and untouched atmosphere. Though that particular memory was hard to forget, considering those same elements pervaded your quarters.

What you couldn’t remember, however, was what anyone had said to you. If anyone had said anything at all. You couldn’t remember when your injured leg was wrapped, or who did it. You couldn’t remember whether the battle was won. You couldn’t remember entering the lift to the residential section of the ship. And you couldn’t remember the familiar whooshing creak of your quarter’s automatic door.

Oh Maker, no.

You couldn’t recall whether that faulty sound tolled when the aperture opened.

You could only trust that the door had, in fact, shut behind you as you ambled into your quarters, deactivated lightsaber falling from your bruised fingers before rudely clacking across the carpeted floor. You could only hope that the walls, too, were thick enough to deafen the sound of your falling knees as they collided with the itchy carpet’s prickling texture.

And you could pray that the falling tears wetting your cheeks and soaking your tunic, and the hiccuping breaths stopping your heart, would somehow ease the agonizing burden that crushed your chest with the bodies of all you had lost.

—

“And the facility was secured?” Master Kenobi inquired once Commander Cody concluded his cursory report on the impromptu attack.

Both general and soldier ambled down the curved, tubular hallway of one of the ship’s upper decks, lined with identically placed doors and overhead lights that perfectly reflected the Republic’s preference for uniformed architecture. Still though, Obi-Wan’s wandering eyes would soak up their every detail, down to the personalized wear of certain entry panels or noticeable scuffs decorating the steel floor whenever he participated in such debriefs.

It allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. No matter the aeonian tumult that bled into their essence or bordered his thoughts.

“Yes, General,” Cody assured evenly as his long-barreled, black phaser, still warm from battle, patiently hung from a confident grip; swaying with each step that fell in line with his superior’s steady stride.

“And we incurred far less casualties than anticipated,” he continued, with a hint of optimism so subtle that even Kenobi struggled to detect it. “My men report that the General is to thank for that.”

An unconscious hand hovered toward Obi-Wan’s chin, gently stroking his beard’s loose tufts while the Jedi Master continued to absorb his officer’s words like a Bluebell squish would sunlight.

Though his gaze still dallied across the ephemeral doors.

“Had they not stood their ground in the valley’s trench…” Cody liberated. “I doubt much of the platoon would be left standing.”

Kenobi’s chest rose and fell with a gradualness that seemed to suspend time itself. Still, his legs carried him onwards, as a shuttle set on autopilot would transport its passengers by endless star systems, and the beauties in between.

You certainly took a huge risk, he noted. Pushing yourself to the very brink to protect the lives of his own battalion.

But did you know just how close you came to the point of no return?

The Master Jedi considered that even Anakin would’ve deemed the act of entering and remaining in the trenches terribly reckless.

And that was saying something.

But you were Qui-Gon’s Padawan, after all. And Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that drilled into your being was the desire to avoid violence at all costs. To preserve the manifestations of the Force by protecting any and all beings who necessitated aid.

Though you were never prepared for a war that coerced Jedi to conform to a changed Galaxy.

And it coerced him to consider…

Should he say something?

“Sir.”

The General need not rely on Force-attuned senses to notice the Commander slowed his gate into a standstill from the corner of an observant eye. Leashing Kenobi to do the same as he angled to face the solider whose mollified shoulders stimulated satiny brown orbs to soften.

“Some of the boys and I would like to thank the General in person for what they did today,” he expressed somewhat awkwardly, hand jolting up to scratch the back of his head as his eyes dipped off to the side. “Any chance you could share a heads up when they may be up for it, Sir?”

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of the General’s tensed lips. Though his revelation after the fact choked the sensation before it had any chance of crawling up to ensnare his bright, cerulean orbs.

No. Not yet, the bearded man concluded.

He couldn’t share his worries.

Because Kenobi dreaded that doing so would risk metamorphosis.

It would be, conceivably, like asking you to transform into a different breed of Jedi. One who’d fail to touch the hearts of men with such infectious reverence and unity.

You were a being who would, no matter what, sacrifice each and every far-off particle of themselves if it meant preserving just one more life, or to cease the wands of conflict indefinitely.

The Way of Qui-Gon’s age, that felt so long ago.

Before its prime was sullied by war…

Suppressing his former Master’s Renaissance teachings in favor of this changed Galaxy, like so many Jedi of late, like Mace Windu, would fundamentally alter you.

And it was that very concept that sucked away the energy of his mind, like a siphon draining liquid gold down through his stiffened spine, and out through his toes.

“Of course, Commander,” Kenobi expelled fluidly. “I’m certain they would valu—“

A gust of pressurized mass flung by the duo with the brawn of a rushing wave, consuming Obi-Wan’s senses and depressing the hairs along his arms like a sudden shift in gravity as his once drained neck flicked toward the impression’s oozing source, located somewhere farther down the hallway.

But while the piqued Jedi Master’s piercing eyes initially saw nothing of concern, it was only a mere second later when the feeling quickly morphed into a troubling array as a pointed hole the size of a marble appeared to form in his ribcage, deliberately expanding into a bleak vacuum that nearly caught his breath.

Then came the pain.

An intense jab whose sharp instrument seemed to pierce the air with progressively afflicting shocks that were surely impossible for any Force-Sensative being to ignore.

At least, for him.

And while this sensation’s source appeared to stray from his inner being, Kenobi could still perceive its utter potency, shattering his thoughts with one, unavoidable clarity:

That, no matter the impenetrability of mental blocks or molecular hints of presence within the Force, the only other being in this sector at all capable of emitting this kind of energy, was you.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was very very wrong.

Given that you’d nearly escaped with your life not even an hour prior, Kenobi could only fear the worst as he mentally recounted your previously noted injuries.

Unless…

That earlier hesitation…

“General!” Cody alertedly yet curiously called after his superior officer as the auburn-haired man’s once composed posture devolved into a notably rushed jog, his white shoulder and shin guards doing little in the ways of stifling the whipping surge of his ivory robe as it caught the ship’s manufactured atmosphere’s resistance. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied with a leveled tone, though never assuaging his gate or turning his chin away from the path ahead as he rushed by door upon equivalent door. “I will comm you if not.”

It was quite fortunate, Obi-Wan realized, that he’d already been returning to his own quarters when he sensed the shift in the Force as they were situated a mere few doors down from your own. Otherwise, given your mind’s weak presence in its endless flow, he may not have caught onto the displacement until long after the fact. Still, he couldn’t help but assign himself preliminary blame for whatever it was he began inwardly preparing to walk into.

He was too distracted to check in with you until now. Too preoccupied with leading reinforcements to turn the tide of that bloody sea of an ambush. And too absorbed in the logistics of determining just exactly how that Separatist attack force landed on Lanos without a lick of intelligence soaring his way. All while the General simultaneously ensured an on-track fleet rendezvous in the background.

But now, stood before your door amidst the heavy rise and fall of a stunted chest in which breath clutched its heels, the Jedi Master gravelly understood once again, fist hovering before its grayed coating in fleeting hesitation, that he had no choice but to rectify another mistake made in his task of certifying The Guardian’s safety.

His knuckles resonantly rapped the cold metal sheen separating you both.

“Silvey?”

But that empty, weighted crevice slithering within his deepest senses persisted, its stinging ambiance threatening to crack open his skin. Quite enough to convince the Jedi Master, as he reached a few fingers toward the door’s panel to levy a couple overriding taps, that your current well-being transcended any and all swirling discomforts rooted in invading your personal space.

Yet, even with such logic secured as firmly on his belt as his lightsaber, nothing could’ve truly prepared Obi-Wan Kenobi for the sight that patiently awaited the mechanical entryway’s opening swish, as his subsequent few steps into your thinly carpeted and modestly furnished quarters delivered an image not easily unseen.

Kneeled just a few meters before the stilled, auburn-haired man was your sternly bent-over figure, back hunched as strikingly as a shadow in a room simply lit by the vast array of stars that glimmered unbothered beyond the far wall’s viewport. Your wears were the same, with the various splotched, grimy stains and ripped, sagging ends of disturbed cloth still hugging your body like fearful younglings. Just as they had during the battle’s peak when Kenobi’s shuttle first landed.

Their drying crackles. Their stretching tears. They caught his gaze as fiercely as a spark of fire with each subtle quiver of your spine, an action which took his mind a moment to register as the trembling quake bedeviling enervated lungs.

From your blood-soiled calf bandage, ruggedly stuck, tussled hair, and sweat-adhered, dirt-crusted arms, Obi-Wan could only assume that you’d remained like this since your arrival. Submitting to your dark surroundings while lacking the inspiration to flip on a light.

And, most eerily, in a muteness that heightened the slightest creaks and far-off humming engines of a periodically groaning ship.

A recognition that deepened the already cavernous void threatening to swallow whole every vein branching from Kenobi’s chest into the muscle of each motionless shoulder.

This was nothing like the incident of days prior, which meant that the General was uncertain of what would help. How to fix this. Or even, what was wrong.

But he veritably knew that dropping a pin in the uncanny silence engulfing you both like a gaseous cloud would shatter his eardrums just as savagely as he assumed it would spiral whatever affliction you were enduring into a perilous state.

And that meant that, for the life of him. The Master Jedi had no idea how to proceed.

He could not breathe for apprehension that it would burst like a spark within an invisible hypermatter leak. Let alone speak a few words, nor your name, unless he knew that, without harm, he could.

So, Master Kenobi did the only thing he dreamed acceptable.

After idling by the entryway in perpetual uncertainty, the cautious Jedi adopted a lissome tread, leading his troubled brows and downturned cerulean eyes to finally seize a glimpse of your collapsed head as he rounded your form.

Your blotched countenance of stained tears and drained listlessness. Loose strands of hair soaked from sweat or anguish he did not know. Still, even your radiantly silver eyes seemed to gray in their moribund stare straight ahead, as if to watch a tiresome scene a thousand parsecs away run its course.

And it was that utter and complete stillness, a feeling invoking time to recede into long-forgotten history, that remained for a tense, immeasurable while.

Unsteady breaths continued to shudder your torso while eyes strung wide enough to perceive the whole Galaxy struggled to maintain their shape following the long sered, torrential flood. The cogs of overflowing thoughts crowding their rusting gears before the speechless man’s very eyes.

It felt near an eternity into the future or past had elapsed for Obi-Wan since he met your distant orbs. Yet their departed state, it seemed, never reflected your true awareness.

You were not trapped within your mind again.

“I spent my entire life on that barren planet,” you suddenly relayed hoarsely.

Or, maybe, in some ways, you were, Kenobi amended, as the sound of your strained voice heightened the General’s alertness all the way up to his hassled brows.

“And a decade of it in complete isolation.”

Laggardly, your jaded orbs lifted toward his own, neck barely shifting while you held his pursed lips and tensed jaw in a vice grip by the anticipation of your slowly spilling words alone.

“And yet—“

A single tear seeped through the dam, etching another stain into your storied cheeks as your chest quickened its heaves.

It was more than enough to have impelled Kenobi toward you. With a hand outstretched and a pulsing drive to somehow bring you any sliver of relief.

But Obi-Wan refrained from all that.

He knew he needed to listen. To understand first. So to learn how best to fix this.

He just wanted to fix this.

“—I’ve never felt… quite… so alone.”

But with those six words, the Master Jedi’s temperance seemed to wash away with the second droplet that traced a serene path down to your chin, proving another chink in the levee.

Promptly, but still with great care, Obi-Wan neared your body, both sets of eyes never severing while he lowered to his knees. Mirroring your form in complete and utter stillness as he encouraged you to continue with a reinforced, steadfast expression.

A tremulous exhale escaped your lungs, silver gaze breaking the connection before sinking to the wayside.

“Not as I do now,” you breathed. “Not when Qui-Gon is gone.”

Those two syllables, Kenobi registered. Two knocks that brought that dam to ruins.

“He’s gone!” You croakily sobbed, a glare that could only reflect betrayal by the Galaxy itself rushing to perceive Kenobi’s affected countenance with an intensity that matched the gushing rain.

You raised a fist, tightening it in the air through a paled potency so sheer that Obi-Wan worried with stitched brows about the sharp damage your fingertips could be afflicting upon the contorted palm. All while silver eyes squeezed shut as if disgusted by the waves of pure agony that surmounted your figure.

“He’s gone for good,” you gnawed breathily. “And nothing will ever bring him back.”

While heaving gasps brimmed the once noiseless, dulled gray walls, amplifying the hollowed suffering emanating through the Force, Kenobi felt his tensed spine and rigid limbs ease with the surge of conviction that steadily overcame him.

Doubtlessness that, like a good Jedi, he felt the need to ease your misery.

More than that. Your pain happened to affect him in such a way, that it felt distressing to do anything but lift his wrist to reach out a bracing palm.

For someone he appreciated as an admirable individual.

And for a being he was beginning to consider a good friend.

Gently, his palm graced the side of yours, signaling him to carefully wrap warm fingers around your strikingly frigid, raised fist. A gesture which relaxed open your tear-brimmed orbs while Obi-Wan cautiously lowered your languishingly trembling clutch. So gradually, that as both your and Obi-Wan’s arms reached each respective knee, the clasped hand was spurred to wholly unfurl, giving Kenobi room to relax his thumb against your flushed palm while he eyed you meaningfully.

“You are not alone,” Obi-Wan firmly assured, his own voice eliciting a momentary shock as he heard its baritone timbre crush the presence of such prolonged and confounding silence.

“He’s gone,” you repeated mindlessly with an empty gaze barely supporting your head.

Yet Obi-Wan’s persistence was as boundlessly unyielding as the grip he maintained on you.

“But, you’re not alone.”

“Obi-Wan,” you wept, nostrils flaring as you shook your head with thinned eyes; swallowing harshly. “Pleas—“

Rapidly, with any fret of heedfulness tossed out the airlock, the Master Jedi brought his unchained hand toward your tottering jaw. Resting a loose knuckle under your chin to lift your searching gaze toward his.

You needed this, he excused. You needed to hear this.

And as your damp, sparkling eyes absently met his, he knew:

Distance be damned.

“You are The Guardian. Anakin is forever tied to you. And you will always, always have the Order. Thousands of Jedi ready to stand by your side because of who you are,” he declared with unshakable conviction.

Until his orbs softened below shattered lips.

“Silvey,” he whispered pregnantly. “Drink in my words.” His fingers tightened around your own. “You are not alone.”

And for a moment, Kenobi could note a subtle lift in your features. A slight lightening of your irises that indicated at least some partial unshackling of an invisible burden. A development that began to stitch closed the gaping crevice nestled within his sternum as it was reflected through the Force, stabilizing against your releasing shoulders and loosening throat.

Though your mind appeared to travel elsewhere.

Still, they were all gradual indications of your calming thoughts. Hints that whatever he was doing was mending something. And signs that first appeared when he touched your hand.

Another theory that added substance to the sealing emptiness Kenobi first experienced through the hall in what felt like eons ago.

So, he leaned into it, gracing his once stilled thumb across your palm’s supple skin as he, bit by bit, traced a messy oval to soothe your thoughts.

And it didn’t take long for your continually calming presence to uncontrollably elicit the soft smile that gradually adorned his lips.

But, as soon as his gentle finger uncovered the aplomb to supply a deeper, more sustained motion of solidarity, it seemed, instantaneously, that this very transference snapped you out of whatever distance your mind had traveled with an unforeseen start.

Your suddenly surprised gape jumped out at Kenobi while a once relaxed hand instantly recoiled out of his own. Chiseling an equally confused expression across Obi-Wan’s face as his brows furrowed at you uneasily.

Still, that did little in forestalling your hurried launch to stand, all done in an effort to put a few strides between you and the bearded Jedi before crossing deeper into the dark shadows enveloping your quarters, a back of tattered robes separating you from Obi-Wan’s probing stare.

The older Jedi felt that hallowed void dilate within himself once more as he observed your sheltering arms fold into themselves, a familiar, throbbing pain emanating into the surrounding Force while he too promptly rose to his feet.

Especially as there was no denying that it was a feeling, Obi-Wan gathered, he’d somehow caused.

A myriad of thoughts swirled his mind as your quarters adopted that familiar aura of soundless reticence. One that rivaled the emptiness of its dimmed lightning that somehow felt far more barren with the presence of two beings blending into its grayed walls.

And the silence was deafening. Thunderous enough to fester a chest-displacing emotion Kenobi sometimes experienced, but knew no Jedi should long entertain.

Guilt.

“Silvey?” He questioned with indecisively parted lips, phonating barely above a whisper.

But you never spoke.

Instead, the Jedi Master received his answer from the tautening cross of your arms and intensifying dip of your head.

The clatter of heavy footsteps and low conversation echoed from the hall, cutting the still air like an endless barrage of saber swipes. Their passing din muffled by your quarter’s steel separation as Obi-Wan partially sensed the handful of clones retreat down the passageway’s other end until their overlapping noise whispered into a distant memory.

And it was following that minor rattle, the long, interspaced stretches of pure stillness, and a timeless affair of observing your statued figure for any hint of an imparting thought, that the General reluctantly accepted the inevitable as pivoted on his heel toward the long gone entourage.

Although he now ambled toward the metal door, he only moved with stalling muscles, still in anticipation that he’d sense some shift, some indication of lightening impressions through the Force. At least, any idea that maybe, maybe you’d say something to him.

But once Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the green-rimmed panel, releasing open the aperture with a whoosh, he began to come to grips with the fact that his presence would facilitate no locution, and, instead, only make things worse.

Stepping beyond the threshold, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to the side, as if to glance at your enigmatic figure staring out the viewport from far behind.

Though, despite the effort, he never dared to fully turn. Instead, Obi-Wan simply allowed his reluctant features to subdue against the throbbing remorse that struck through his mind like an unruly blaster spear as he murmured through uncertain lips one last time.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

A soft exhale, and the door hissed closed.

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[t0ast-ghost]

Hiya, have some episode 8 (What Are Little Girls Made Of) of Star Trek TOS thoughts:

- I dunno this sounds like… A TRAP! (I never thought I’d actually quote Star Wars and I’m quite frankly ashamed of myself)

- The most terrifying thing of all.. A DRAMA STUDENT (I am referring to Brown)

- wait- who? Who was that? No no go back why’d he sneak away like that? stop sneaking around you creepy ass fu- oh he killed a redshirt

- okay but Browns fit is kinda slaying (I’m a drama student)

- why does Brown kinda sound like the bad guy from cloudy with a chance of meatballs 2

- Kirk is so fucking dramatic.. bbygirl you did not need to roll out of danger

- HE GOT YOINKED!

- damned outpost scientists

- what in the German expressionism is this creature

- please don’t tell me Andrea is an android t- oh she admitted to it

- “do you think I could love a machine?” “Did you?” CHRISTINE IS NOT HAPPY

- sooo Korby is an android, ain’t he?

- Spain without the a

- why don’t they bring this machine back into the new series? It spins and it’s funny (put it in lower decks or smt)

- Kirk clone count: 2

- what in the blocky play mobile kind of food is that

- okay I love chapel “I’d rather you push me off the same precipice that the crewman fell from”

- why do I always like the science officers (my best friend is a biomed student so that may explain it…)

- Kirk is holding a dick rock… thank you for coming to my ted talk

- goddamn those boots are slutty

- DONT YELL AT SPOCK (he knows his boyfriend would never)

- I have a feeling Kirk just really hated Ruk

- I like that both the main medical officers have to go through the “my loved one died and now has been cloned” trauma

- I’d like to see something where the person grieving their loved one makes a robot of them and is originally just happy with the pieces that they’ve gathered of this person… but then it goes horribly wrong

- POOR NURSE CHAPEL HOLY SHIT

- like imagine seeing the person you love again only for it to be a pale imitation that could only want to be as passionate or loving or caring as the person you knew and then for the last image of them you see is them kissing another woman

- SPOCK SMILING AT KIRK! I REPEAT SPOCK IS SMILING AT KIRK

Okie dokie that’s pretty much it. Really love Christine Chapel now so…

I don’t think I remember episode 7 (Mudd’s Women) enough to have anything to say about it. I disliked the episode, if I ever have reason to watch it again I’ll maybe write something but for now I’m skipping it. Thanks :)

EP1 | EP2/3 | EP4/5 | EP6 | EP9 | Masterpost

[crepes-suzette-373]

Germa and Pop Culture Villain comparisons

I think their main inspiration is the Shocker group, the villains of Kamen Rider, but someone has pointed out some Star Wars similarities too. I don't remember if this was in the manga SBS/author notes or some other side interview, but I recently saw a quote from Oda-sensei where he mentioned that one of his inspirations when creating One Piece was Star Wars, so it makes a lot of sense.

Shocker (Kamen Rider)

The eagle is the Shocker logo.

I would venture to guess it's specifically based on the "Space Shocker" iteration. The eagle looks blocky, and that even has the lightning bolt element too.

The circular table under the throne itself is based on the Shocker Alliance scene

The chunky belts and scarves of the Raid Suits looks like Shocker Riders, although sensei did seem to include Sentai elements for the multicolour look in Germa. Shocker Riders' outfits are just all the same.

Plus, in the lore the first and second Kamen Riders were actually humans that were modified to become part of the Shocker Riders. It's just that they escaped and then used their powers for good (like Sanji).

*) Incidentally, aside from my other theory about the emotion modification, all the Kamen Rider parallels is another reason why I'm mostly convinced that Sanji will be fine, even if all his mods awaken somehow.

Galactic Empire (Star Wars)

The Germa soldiers visually are somewhat similar to Clone Troopers. Especially that little "tail" on their hats. Even more so because they're both clones made with the same principle: cloning the strongest soldiers to make an army of the best fighters.

Germa didn't used to have the "66" name until whatever it was that happened 300 years ago. It's interestingly referenced as a subversion here. Order 66 was the rise of the Galactic Empire, while 66 marks the fall of the Germa Empire.

Also, Germa's "66" is actually "double six" and not "sixty six". This is kind of curious when you take into account other things. The June Rebellion that was depicted in Les Miserables was defeated in June 6 (6/6, double six), and Germa clearly has Les Mis references so... (Cosette and Eponi = Cosette and Eponine)

The circle symbol on the floor looked like the Empire symbol

Although, considering the "Galactic Republic" symbol is mostly similar to that too, I don't know if sensei got them confused, or if he is knowingly using it for Lore. I don't know much of Star Wars, but from what I had read, this is a good-leaning/neutral symbol connected to the Force.

I've had theories that Germa wasn't originally evil, so I do wonder.

I know many theorists have been really focusing on the WW2/Third Reich elements, and admittedly even in the Kamen Rider universe the Shocker members did seems to have ties to that. The same with the Star Wars Galactic Empire, which is also purposely based on the same regime.

It's just that we don't know for sure if sensei even considered that. Maybe he's just thinking of cool superheroes and scifi and wasn't particularly thinking too deeply about the real world connections. Since we don't know, I don't want to assume just because it looks like it.

It's like how originally Whitebeard's pirate mark was designed with a manji symbol ("reverse swastika") because it's a Buddhist symbol and commonly used in Japan. It's only due to consideration for international viewers it had to be changed into a "cross/plus" shape later.

[grandmofftarkinsuggestions]

my thoughts on the bad batch after finishing it all (so far, seasons 1 and 2.) this isn't really exhaustive, just some overall thoughts on the series. overall, i liked it :)

the good:

- tarkin :) he's such a fitting character to pair with the batch and i kinda wish he was in more of it, but i'm obviously biased!

- animation. i love the blocky, shapely art style of the clone wars, and how it was replicated here. they have a much higher budget, expectations, and quality technology now, so it arguably looks even better/smoother.

- the political intrigue was on-par with many of the darker plotlines of the clone wars, which i typically really like. it's deep and philosophical without being too lofty or pretentious. i love the commentary on eugenics and genetic mutations in general and how they were incorporated in the plot, especially during season 1.

- the relationships amongst the bad batch (including omega) are all really good and fun. definitely pulls at the old heart strings to watch these soldiers tackle child-rearing.

- i liked basically every new character (with phee, hemlock, and omega being highlights) introduced in the series, despite my gripes with cid being an antisemitic caricature, which bothers me immensely as a jew myself.

(i will be getting into spoilers under the cut while talking about my problems with the series, so BE WARNED.)

the bad:

- i feel like season two did not feel as connective as season one, plotwise. it didn't feel like it was leading to some grand finale or greater thing, which is kinda the point with the batch wanting to settle on pabu, but it started to feel anticlimactic towards the mid-way point. it picked back up the pace during the last two episodes, at least.

- i absolutely detest that cid betrayed the batch. sure, it makes 'sense' enough given the way they set it up and sprinkled in hints of her being worse than she lets on, but it felt like such a cop-out, (and an antisemitic one at that, which i'll get to in the 'dirty' section,) especially after she literally said she's changed for the better as a person since when she was allies with grini 🙃. she will hopefully try to help the batch in season 3 but i hated that the writers did her wrong like that. i don't care that they made her seem guilty; it still wasn't enough for me. maybe don't make all your aliens racist, xenophobic, and antisemitic caricatures and i'll like the way you write them more.

the dirty:

- the whitewashing of the bad batch + omega. stop it. making the genetically 'superior' clones much paler than the rest is literally white supremacy.

- the whitewashing of caleb dume, aka kanan jarrus, which i don't hear as many people calling out, likely simply because they don't know that caleb and kanan are the same person. it would cost zero dollars and effort to unwhitewash these characters. do it, now.

- cid being an antisemitic caricature of a powerful, untrustworthy, criminal, money-hungry, penny-pinching lizard. what the fuck!

- this is definitely a lighter note, but is still very ageist and. hm.. kinda ableist in my opinion. the way they aged up tarkin to an extreme degree in this series to make it make 'more sense' for him to look 'so old' in anh.

peter cushing looked 'like that' because he was very sickly in real life at the time of anh, and tarkin, in theory, had nothing like that in his canon life, so why not try to justify it by saying that tarkin just aged really quickly between the end of clone wars and a new hope? but like. no. literally no. stop. there is enough canon evidence of tarkin having a chronic illness to justify him suddenly looking much older in anh. you didn't have to do him dirty like this.

i hate how they only die on the hill of making tarkin look and sound exactly like peter when it's unnecessary to do so (like in rogue one, and i liked cgi tarkin! it was just so unnecessary.) this is animation, so they could've easily made him look like peter when peter was 40-something instead of super aged up, but no. and i really liked how he looked in the clone wars! we could've had it all.

[linuxgamenews]

Unleash Nostalgia with Disney Classics Black Friday Game Bundle

Disney Classics Black Friday game bundle is loaded with support for Steam Deck and Linux via Windows PC. Thanks to the amazing Humble Bundle team for making it all possible. Grab yours now in this pay what you want bundle. If you’re looking for a treasure chest of nostalgia, Humble Bundle has you covered with the Disney Classics Black Friday game bundle. It’s packed with legendary adventures, timeless characters, and classic gaming goodness. Due to transport you to a simpler, magical time. And the best part? It supports Steam Deck and Linux, as well as a great cause while letting you snag an incredible deal. So let’s dive into the details! First up, we’re talking Disney classics galore. Remember the excitement of your favorite Disney movies? Now you can relive the magic with an epic vault of Disney-inspired titles. Whether it’s exploring enchanted lands or stepping into the shoes of beloved heroes, this collection has something for every fan. But wait, there’s more! This bundle also throws in some LEGO adventures featuring blocky versions of Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and Pirates of the Caribbean. Building and battling your way through iconic scenes? Yes, please! Feeling like a swashbuckling adventure? Step into the boots of the charming and hilarious Guybrush Threepwood in the Monkey Island series. Or, if galaxies far, far away are more your style, prepare for some Jedi-level action with Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic and Republic Commando. From pirate quests to epic space battles, the Disney Classics Black Friday bundle has a game for every kind of adventurer.

What comes in the Disney Classics Black Friday game bundle??

LEGO Star Wars - The Complete Saga - Deck Verified ProtonDB

LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean - Deck Playable ProtonDB

LEGO Indiana Jones: The Original Adventures - Deck Playable ProtonDB

LEGO Indiana Jones 2: The Adventure Continues - Deck Verified ProtonDB

LEGO Star Wars III: The Clone Wars - Deck Verified ProtonDB

The Curse of Monkey Island - ProtonDB Platinum Deck Support

The Secret of Monkey Island: Special Edition - Deck Playable ProtonDB

Monkey Island 2: Special Edition - Deck Playable ProtonDB

Indiana Jones® and the Emperor's Tomb - Deck Playable ProtonDB

Star Wars Empire At War: Gold Pack - Deck Playable ProtonDB

Classic Star Wars takes part in the Disney Classics Black Friday game bundle

Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords - Deck Playable Native

Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic - Deck Playable

STAR WARS Galactic Battlegrounds Saga - Gold Deck Support ProtonDB

Star Wars Jedi Knight - Jedi Academy - Gold Deck Support ProtonDB

STAR WARS: The Force Unleashed Ultimate Sith Edition - ProtonDB Gold Deck Support

STAR WARS Republic Commando - Deck Playable ProtonDB

STAR WARS Rebellion - ProtonDB Silver Deck Support

Value for a Minimal Purchase

Here’s the kicker with this bundle: if you bought all these Disney Classics Black Friday games separately, you’d spend up to $224 USD. With Humble Bundle, you set the price. Starting at just $10 USD, so you can grab Steam keys to unlock hours of gaming. Feeling generous? You can upgrade your bundle to get even more treasures. All of these titles are redeemable on Steam for Windows, with some with native Linux support as well as Mac too. Be sure to check the Proton requirements before you buy. And let’s not forget the feel-good part: your purchase also supports the Starlight Children’s Foundation, helping brighten the lives of seriously ill kids. Plus, you can choose how your money is split—between the developers, the foundation, and even a charity of your choice. So it’s a win-win for everyone. So, why wait? The Disney Classics Black Friday game bundle is a fantastic way to relive your childhood while building your gaming library. Grab the pay what you want deal now and let the adventures begin. Since it offers support for Steam Deck and Linux via Windows PC.

[zannjuskarathtaggerung360]

Each Cosmere story should be in a different style, and when they cross over, the characters will not be fully in their own style like Spiderverse, but have small flairs and callbacks to their home style.

Examples: Elantris: Powerhouse's gothic and brutal style like Castlevania Mistborn: Blocky stylized 3d like Arcane or Clone Wars Stormlight: Anime-Lite 2d like the competently animated seasons of Korra. Warbreaker: Studio Ghibli Style with the areas around the awakeners enhanced in the way Ghibli draws things like water unrealistically but with more "oomph" for lack of a better word. (Also I think Warbreaker could work well as a stage musical, but that doesn't fit here). Tress of the Emerald Sea: 2d Disney Renaissance princess movie style. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter: Makoto Shinkai anime style. The Sunlit Man: I cannot see this in any other style than Live Action in the directorial style of Denis Villeneuve. However, if it had to be animated, I could also see it in a highly detailed but still clearly stylized 3d like the Bad Travelling episode of Love Death and Robots.

I think it should be anime, but I'm curious to know what you all think.

[stormytitan]

Color Studies! (repost since last one got deleted)

[thecleverqueer]

Random thoughts during Attack of the Clones:

*The second scene with all the Jedi in the Chancellors’ office is like a Clone Wars who’s who. Poor Barriss in the back of the room…brooding, being all angsty and gay. Her character was done hella dirty, but I have a theory on that which I may share later.

* Anakin’s attempts at flirting with women are painful. Ouch. Too bad this predates Ahsoka who could have absolutely given him pointers.

* I feel like Padme is disproportionately targeted by assassination attempts. I get she’s kind of outspoken, but holy f*^%, bounty hunters are trying to take her ass out constantly.

*I find it it creepy that Anakin was watching Padme sleep (or whatever). I would have covered the cameras if I were her as well.

* It’s pretty great that Obi-Wan catches Anakin’s lightsaber that Anakin dropped during a high-speed pursuit. Hella reflexes.

*”This weapon is your life.” -Obi-Wan when handing Anakin’s lightsaber back to him. This is a reoccurring theme, I feel. Fun Clone Wars fact: We see Jedi passing their weapons over to someone else twice in The Clone Wars series willingly: Once by Anakin who gives it to Padme. Once by Ahsoka who gives it to Barriss. Hmm.

* “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?”- Obi-Wan. Yikes with the foreboding.

*I appreciate the original Xbox graphics going on with that droid football game playing in the cantina. It really brings back some great memories of a time when playing games was so blocky and 32-bit.

* I like Dex. I bet the food in his diner is fire, but I bet the caf is awful. I’m also impressed that he knows about Kamino when no one else seems to at this point in the story.

* Attachments and possession is forbidden, but compassion is encouraged. I feel like attachment sort of comes with romance. Something about that chemical reaction in your brain that’s triggered… With that being said, Anakin interacting with Padmé is so, so awkward.

* “The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it.” - Queen Jamillia dropping gems of wisdom.

* Was this written by Incels? I mean, I’m really not clear how the “I don’t like sand” line somehow convinces Padmé to kiss Anakin for the first time, but maybe I need to start coming up with really, REALLY hokey lines to get girls to kiss me. I’ll let you know how it works out in the real world.

*RED FLAG ON THE FIELD. Anakin declares that he is a pro-dictatorial authoritarian fascist. She laughs it off like “he’s kidding”, and like, he legit says “I’d be much too frightened to tease a senator.” Baby girl. He’s problematic. You’re getting a sign that clearly is telling you to turn around, but you’re ignoring the signals.

*Fun Star Wars fact, those chunky tick-looking CGI animals that nearly trample Anakin in that awkward flirty scene are called Shaak (not to be confused with Shaak Ti, who is a hot, Togruta Jedi), and apparently, they’re tasty.

* Padmé seems to be very impressed by Anakin’s ability to float fruit around with the force. I can’t say I wouldn’t be turned on by someone just randomly wielding the force to impress me. Maybe.

* The scene between Anakin and Padmé where they’re discussing the kiss is a clear sign that he’s not going to be capable of letting go. The dark shadow cast across his face in this scene is kind of another foreboding moment too.

* Clones! Rex, Cody and Jesse are all down there some place preparing to go to war as Obi-Wan looks on.

* Slave One is a badass ship. That is all.

*I can’t help but wonder about Lars freeing, then marrying Shmi Skywalker. Did he do it out of the goodness of his heart? Was it a mutual thing? Or was Shmi originally purchased as his sex slave, and was she suffering from Stockholm syndrome? Why is my brain like this!?!

*Speaking of, Shmi’s death is tragic. Enter Vader.

*RED FLAG! RED FLAG!!! Holy blazes, Padme. Anakin just confessed to committing literal genocide by slaughtering an entire village of sand people. I’m pretty sure my instinct would be to roll out. That would be my cue. I mean, damn.

Anakin: I killed them. I killed them all. And not just the men, but the women and the children too. They’re like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!

Me: Well, would you look at the time!? Gotta go!

Not Padmé. No. She tries to reason with it. It’s human to be angry. No, not like THAT! My god, man!! Jedi have to keep that shit in check as they can literally crush people with the force. FFS. You’re in danger, girl. RUN!

*The Geonosians creep me out. Seriously. Bugs, but with brains that are capable of producing weapons of mass destruction. There is also their ceremonious way of executing prisoners (Ancient Roman style) Not to worry, I guess. This method won’t work with Jedi. They’re like force-wielding gladiators on speed. Their deadly animals will be beast-tricked and killed.

* Shaak Ti! I am such a sucker for a Togruta. Here’s my number, holo me.

* Mace Windu’s lightsaber wielding style really is bad ass. The way that he just effortlessly beheads Jango Fett is something else.

* Every time I see Kit Fisto, I’m reminded of how he started off as a tadpole.. and it makes me chuckle. Also, his grin is fantastic.

* The C3-PO puns during this battle. Classic. Peak droid in a Star Wars film.

* I can’t help but wonder what happened to Jango’s head when Boba lifts his helmet and puts it against his forehead? I didn’t want it to plop out, but it probably should have. Is it still wedged into the helmet? Is poor Boba going to have to fish it out later (because we know he keeps it)?

*Folks always getting their arms chopped off.

*The Dooku/ Yoda lightsaber battle is epic, and may be slightly underrated.

* Begun the Clone War has. Poor Bail is like, “Damn.” And, we end with Padme ignoring all the red flags. The galaxy will pay for your discretions. Roll credits.

[cabezadeperro]

Jesse and Kix? Either platonic or shippy with uuhmmm 27?

hi!!! thanks for asking!!

the first song i got was extremely sad, so i rolled again. might end up writing that other fic as well.

into your heart by young electra, missed scene during the war, set around the beginning of clone wars season 7. established relationship, dread and haircuts, etc. 659w

Tell me I can stay, here in your heart (don't go away) / Know that I am coming, coming into your heart (don’t dance away)

“You sure?”

Kix looks at him through the mirror. He lifts his eyebrows, amused and impatient at once. Their shower room is loud, busy, but they’re used to it, if not to this. Jesse pokes him on the back of his neck with the cold, still end of the razor and snorts when Kix scowls and swipes at him. He dances away but the hit connects on his thigh, and it stings even through his blacks. 

“Yeah,” Kix says. It’s not the first time. “It’s too long, I don’t have the time to keep it up, so on and so forth.”

Jesse bites his lips, trying and failing not to smile. “But, really, Kix. Are you sure, sure?”

Kix’s hair is longer than the regs say but not that long: it’s barely starting to curl. And, anyway, Jesse’s seen him take care his stupid, overly complicated hairstyle in sieges and with a broken wrist for more than two years.

“Yes. I am sure.”

Jesse hums. He clicks the razor on, clicks it off, and laughs when Kix groans and bends upon himself, resting his elbows on his knees. His matted, too-long curls catch the light of the fluorescents on the ceiling. There’s a line of grime high up on his neck, slashing the brown skin in half. Blood, dust, dry sweat. Tibanna residue and dirt. 

There’s also a bruise high up on his back. It half-disappears under one of his tattoos—a shoulder piece, blocky and harsh; it’s very pretty—but Jesse kind of wants to place his palm on the green-purple starburst. The skin will be warm and tacky and, most importantly, it’ll be Kix’s.

He opens his mouth, the questions heavy on his tongue—why him, why now—and then shrugs, hisses out a breath.

He clicks the razor on again and starts it on the uneven curls. It takes him minutes: it’s so much easier than shaving his own head.

Kix could be doing this himself. Even if he doesn’t want to keep his old hairstyle anymore, for whatever reason, he knows how to cut his own hair. Jesse bites at his cheek and keeps his eyes on his friend’s hair, the machine buzzing contentedly in his right hand, his left on Kix’s warm shoulder, the bare skin smooth under his touch, barely grazing his collarbone. He thinks he can feel Kix’s heartbeat on the pads of his fingers, and he swallows, because it’d be very easy to slide his hand lower and do it properly. He could lean closer, lean on Kix’s back, let it rest over Kix’s chest. He’s missed him: they don’t see each other as often since Jesse got sent to Kamino to become an ARC.

Jesse clears his throat and clicks off the razor. “Done,” he says. Kix blinks. He seems to shake himself. He rakes his fingers through his newly cut hair, tugs at the reg-length curls, sighs. Something flashes in his dark eyes and then he’s already turning on the bench to look at Jesse, small smile on his face, still gritty with dustside dirt and other people’s blood. There’s a tiny scratch on his cheekbone, already scabbed over, and when Jesse brushes it with his knuckles, he blinks and winces. 

“I got that on the way back to the ship,” he sighs. Jesse snorts. “Kriffing pilots.”

Kix hooks dirty fingers in the waistband of Jesse’s blacks and tugs; Jesse goes—can’t imagine ever not going—and then it’s his mouth on Jesse’s, lips dry.

“Thanks,” Kix says. He clears his throat and looks away. Jesse watches him, brow furrowed. He’s hiding something.

“No problem,” he replies instead. Kix smiles up at him, mouth tight around the corners, eyes fluttering all over Jesse’s face. “I’ll miss the hair, though.”

Kix snorts, rolling his eyes. He pushes Jesse away and stands up: something pops in his back and he winces. 

“You’ll live,” he tells Jesse over his shoulder, eyes glittering, fond, already on his way towards the showers.

[paulietehblooxd]

So here’s an undertale AU I’ve been sitting on for a while.

Well it’s probably been done before but here’s my take on it if it has.

Ok so undertale. But with robots instead of monsters.

Call it robotale or a.Itale or mechandertale (hehe I’m proud of that one)

Flowey: would be a crt screen ai using the robotic infrastructure of this universe version of the underground to display and crt monitors that are everywhere to be found. Most broken. And instead of flowey maybe he calls himself codey (codey the A.I code) lore for Asriel:

Now we all know the tragic story of how asy became flowey. So, Same concept here except, when he came back he was just loose a.I code of Asriel with most of his essential code missing or corrupt (or both)

Toriel and Asgor:

They would be something like defunct war robots (examples like the sentry bot from fallout) with guns and ballistics. Toriel would be a smaller model with no ballistics and less armour plating as Asgores would be with lots of armour plating and a couple of ballistics. They would both have a way of standing down from their war weapons (such as hiding them or turning them off) wich will be there friendly appearances

Sans and papyrus:

They would be construction bots. sans would be on a wheel (like Mettatons first form) and is a security bot (low grade security bot. Fragile but effective) papyrus would a mechanised construction worker (made to replace the human construction worker)

Napstablook:

He would be a holographic A.I that can interact with the robotic underground. (I’ll get to mettaton in a bit)

Undyne:

Undyne would be a pilot bot/A.I it would be a week but viable and agile drone bot. (Similar to like starwars clone wars droids but looking nothing alike to them (obviously) )That can pilot a tank bot mech hybrid (on tank tracks) (also equipped with a ballistic spear launcher that she can wield outside of the tank form aswell)

Alphys:

She would be a mechanised P.C with access to the internet (weak access but still SOME internet access)a crt pc monitor from the early 90s would be her head displaying a face close to her normal one. Her body would be the housing unit of the pc that makes her brains. and she would have 6 insect like arms. Her legs would kinda be like Lego legs (you know blocky, not much movement. That sorta thing) and would have wheels built into the feet. Weather or not she still wears a lab coat. I do not know.

Mettaton:

WOULD BE A PLANT CREATURE. Don’t be alarmed I have an explanation for this. Now mettaton normaly is obsessed with entertainment and they still are but there way of finding a new body would be expressing through plants (specifically flowers) so alphys bot would experiment putting her holographic A.I (Rember back to napstablook same family so Mettatons robot form would be the same as his) into a flower creature (think Mettatons stage 2 body made out of plant stems and flower petals.

Mad dummy/madmewmew:

Same kinda concept as mettaton but instead of a mad dummy they would inhabit things like a vending machine. or for mad mewmew maybe his A.I code gets stuck in an electric advertisement of a popular robot show (or anime if you want)

Frisk

would remain mostly the same. Maybe a gray/yellow sweater (gray with yellow stripes) and dark grey shoes.

The souls of monsters would be their battery’s ( the boss soul lore still kinda holds up)

This is all I got so far…

Not much of a concept I know but I though I should shout this on the internet somewhere (so here it it’s >:P )

if you read this far congrats you did better than i did!

And if you skipped to the end then we’re the same you and I.

[trooper-guppy]

I just wanted to post a thanks to everyone who reblogged or liked my Rex piece! I am really happy people enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pull off a fully finished piece I was happy with so I really appreciate all the love!  I know I posted some progression pictures while I was working on it, but I thought it’d be neat to have it compiled in one place for everyone. I also really wanted to show how much using References and asking for Feedback from other artists can really put up the quality of a piece! Reference images are a given, they are always a useful tool. However, asking for a friend or another artist to have a look and give you some pointers can be a super valuable learning tool! Everyone looks at a piece differently, a friend can maybe push you out of your comfort zone enough to get you to really learn something new and come up with some awesome pieces! The first image I drew was referenced from a pose in a magazine I believe! It’s pretty stiff in terms of pose, and the silhouette is a bit too blocky. It’s hard to see what’s going on in terms of motion and shape. This made me unhappy! I enjoyed the perspective, but the pose just didn’t feel quite right. This is where my good friend stepped in to offer me some critique! He offered me a redline over my original sketch with some alterations to the pose and to push the perspective. It REALLY made this piece shine for me, and really compelled me to continue it to the line work phase! The rest is pretty self explanatory. I am fond of varying black line work similar to the Clone Wars 2003 series hehe... Colour was something that took me the longest I think! Originally I started off with a red sky but felt it was too... harsh. I decided to slap a bunch of colours in the sky instead with a reddish/purple shadow overlay for the shade. I think this part turned out pretty good! Encouragement from your friends or peers is valuable to keep your spirits up! A fresh set of eyes and some company while you draw can make the world of difference! This went on for a lot longer than I had intended, but I hope it can help someone out! If anyone ever felt they wanted a second opinion on a sketch, I would love to help out if I am not flooded with work! I love to learn as well as teach hehe. Again, thanks everyone! Hope you are having a wonderful evening!  ✌️ 🐟

[0poole]

I LOVE No Straight Roads

Honestly it’s hard to keep me away from a game with great visuals and even greater character design. I knew from the INSTANT I saw these characters that I was going to love it. I just finished it because it’s (unfortunately) pretty short, and even though I cheesed the final boss through it’s very lenient death mechanics (Instant respawn at the cost of a good rank) I actually appreciated that it wasn’t a pure cake walk. I’ve yet to rematch all of the bosses, but since I had genuine trouble with the later ones I’ll hold off on that.

But who cares about gameplay, am I right? I sure as hell don’t. I would’ve bought the game no matter what the hell it was. I wanted the characters (and the music, although I realized that second) and that was it. 

First of all, I love any world that is super fantastical but cheesy in its concept, ala a city powered by music, and battles between artists using music. Ideas like this only spawn from a mind that wants to create a fun atmosphere, if nothing else, and it was sure as hell fun. I genuinely love when someone goes so far into a crazy idea and doesn’t waste your time explaining it with real world logic. Wanna know how a city can be powered by music? Shut up and look at the cute virtual mermaid. Lord knows I did. Every once in a while, it does you good to just let the player/reader/viewer just revel in the idea without having to go out of your way to make things seem realistic. It’s not about “turning your brain off” or whatever, it’s picking your battles.

Also, I can seriously love a world with great background characters to it. Any game with the right situation to insert the random nobodies you find onto the streets into the art in the credits really played into the greatness of the world’s less important characters, and that’s always a good thing. It’s technically world building. But, since I always love to pick favorites, I’d have to say my favorite background character is easily Mia, the NSR infodesk assistant. It’s funny, because you can literally search “nsr characters” into Google and she’s the third image result. I love how jumpy she is when you first interact with her, since NSR probably spread the word about B2J suggesting they’re rock thugs who’d beat up anyone, so for all she knows she could die right then and there with a guitar lodged in her skull. She’s probably just some intern trying to pay for college. She don’t want trouble.

Also, I just realized that 90% of the characters in this game have the same body structure that I always love, that being having arms/legs that sort of fan out in width into relatively large hands/feet. It’s a kind of limb structure I fall into so much because it just really hits me right for some reason. I really can’t explain why.

Anyways, I gotta talk about the big boys individually:

Mayday and Zuke are an amazing duo. I’m always a sucker for a cute and crazy girl, but honestly Zuke hit so many of the right notes too. I will say it’s weird to pair the martian Zuke with the humanly-skinned Mayday, but honestly it doesn’t even matter because he looks so cool on his own. I love his weird blocky blue dreadlocks, and his weirdly shaped shirt which bares his chest in the weirdest way... And, oh my god, Mayday’s weird Spongebob background flower eyes? It’s little tidbits like that that really make me jealous. How could I have ever thought of that? It looks so perfect, and I don’t know why. And her little booty jig she does in her idle animation? Adorable. I played as her as much as was reasonable not only because I’m a filthy button masher with little strategy but also because she’s so damn cute. I can also appreciate how she has a tough-as-nails persona while still keeping a semi-girly attitude, like with her falling for 1010 and Sayu. Characters are so much better when they’re a perfect blend of characteristics, instead of being all one-note, like how Zuke is the quiet one but gets heated against DK West, and all. 

Honestly the voice acting for every character is great, but I love when Mayday’s VA’s accent shows through. It’s a perfect twang to accent (consider this the only acknowledgement of a pun in this post) her snarkiness. 

DJ Subatomic Supernova was going to be an easy favorite since he’s all space-themed. Also, I don’t know why I always end up liking the egotistic characters. Not in the sense that I like their egotistic-ness, but in the sense that I like everything else about them and they just so happen to also be egotistic. The same applied with Empoleon (maybe like my 2nd favorite Pokemon) and Rarity from MLP, probably among others. Either way, I’ll never not love space themes. Not to mention he’s got a funky disco theme, and I’m slowly starting to realize that I am in extreme love with techno-funk styles of music. The instant I heard his music he cemented his place into my playlists. 

As for design, I still have no idea what the fuck he is. Clearly AI is at human levels in this world, but if he’s a robot why does he still have hairy legs? But, if he’s a human, is that weird orb his head? Is it just some sort of puppet which he controls from inside his giant jacket? I know I dissed explaining things realistically but I actually want to know with this guy. Even the wiki doesn’t say. Either way, he’s clearly the logical extreme of “being at the center of your own universe.” Even his jacket depicts a solar system, with his hood being the sun. Didn’t see that until I tried to draw him. I really wish this guy wasn’t so tied to his DJ stand so I could reasonably draw him without it. I don’t want to draw his hairy ass legs. It is a great touch for his design though (although I prefer his beta look with pants and long boots, another design trait I tend to gravitate to) since DJs could reasonably not wear pants, since they’re always behind a table.

Sayu is my favorite. It’s so plainly obvious. It’s weird to say that sometimes, because some characters like Sayu are so clearly engineered to be as adorable as possible, to the point where they’re basically a parody of whatever they’re supposed to be emulating, but then they do that so well that they are still likable for what they’re trying to parody. Also, even though I’ve never looked into any vocaloid superstars myself, the fact that they exist and are loved in real life is absolutely perfect to be used as a character design in a world like this. It’s so weird conceptually, but we all know it’s normal and realistic. But yeah, she’s a giga-cutie whom I’ve already drawn and I’ve listened to her theme on loop on many different occasions. Favorite character, favorite track, favorite weapon of choice (What did I say about Empoleon?), which, and I wouldn’t have noticed this myself, looks like the USB symbol you see above USB ports on computers. How crazy perfect is that?

Even apart from my unbridled love for cute monster robot(?) girls, her boss fight is probably the 2nd greatest of them all, at least conceptually. She’s just a hologram, so you can’t touch her, but you CAN disconnect the artists which control her in order to defeat her. It’s the kind of concept for a boss fight that could only work for this type of character. I’m a sucker for the cute girl that provides her voice, but I love how the animator (video editor? the yellow one) actually attacks you with a mouse and lowers the brightness of the setting once he appears. Also, the mocap guy being the deeply-voiced type but still providing the adorable movements of her body. It’s such a great combo of characters, and their little extra art in the credits makes me like them even more. I just wish we could interact with them individually.

DK West was probably one of the most interesting characters visually, especially since I knew of every other NSR member long before the game came out, but I only just heard of him closer to the release. I wasn’t sure where he was placed, but I definitely assumed his gig was the weird shadow demon we saw in the trailers. When I finally saw him in game, I was shocked to hear him speak an entirely different language most of the time, which was really cool. Also, finding out he was tied to Zuke and wasn’t strictly an NSR artist really made him more interesting. You know, if his fucking shadow clone magic didn’t make him crazy cool enough. Even though I suck at his game and am not especially fond of his raps, the visual of him rapping with this giant monster behind him and dozens of weird shadow wingmen by his side hyping him up was probably one of the coolest in the entire game. The dark way they were hyping him up too gave such a bizarre atmosphere, especially since it parallels his seemingly chill and smiley demeanor. 

I definitely hope they’ll introduce new bosses as DLC in the future, and make them sort of in the same vein as DK West, where they aren’t the biggest artists ever, but they want to pick a fight with B2J. I’d kill for any extra content this game can provide.

Yinu is obviously special since she was the subject of the demo they put out for the game. Even though I knew all her bells and whistles, she and her mom still beat me a few times in the full game. Considering she’s semi-tied to story-ish spoilers I kinda want to go more into her in a separate section. It is worth considering playing the game first since it’s not hard (with the easy going deaths) and it’s short length.

1010 seriously grew on me as I learned more about them and interacted with them. I got their shtick when I first looked at them, but after seeing that animation of them touring the city on Youtube I was kinda falling for them. Then, I learned that they’re apparently repurposed navy war robots? I mean, maybe not them specifically, but it seems to heavily point in that direction, with the warship cars and “attention!”s and all. It took me a bit to get into their music too, but once I actually fought them and put their actions to the music I fell in love with it. I swear, Neon J’s weird dancing can has some of the smoothest moves in all of gaming. I don’t know whether they mocapped out those movements or got one of the greatest animators ever, but it looks so impossibly clean his part of the song gets me like 30x more hype than it would normally. 

Also, their little art piece of them looking at fan mail in the credits is probably one of the most adorable things ever. Even if they’re just Neon J’s puppets, that piece of art really makes it seem like they love every one of their fans. I’m not gonna lie, I might swoon a bit too if they picked me out and gave me some special attention.

Oh yeah, and the fact that Mayday was super sad in her showstopper against them was adorable and hilarious at the same time. The little tweaks they made to the showstopper for each fight were great.

Eve just has to be Lady Gaga, right? Like, an even crazier Lady Gaga. DJSS is Daft Punk (or any artist with a helmet persona, you know what I’m talking about), Sayu is Hatsune Miku, DK West is Kanye West, Yinu is a generic child protege, 1010 is a KPop boyband (just pick one) and Eve is Lady Gaga. That’s just how things are. But, again, this is the kind of boss fight that only this type of character could provide. It’s not just surreal imagery, it’s ARTISTIC surreal imagery. The fight is so mesmerizing in every way, especially by how it starts off so slow and calm and progresses to insanity, as well as the increased emotional investment in the fight making you feel so much more into it than just “That’s the boy band. Let’s fight.” Not only does it get you more invested, but it makes her artistic persona go deeper than just “she looks weird.” She is genuinely conflicted about her relationship with Zuke, and naturally that leads her to literally split him and Mayday apart. That mechanic specifically was the coolest, although I do wish they made it more obvious when you needed to switch over to a different side. I was getting pulverized by her fight too, since there were so many things to pay attention to. Her fight was definitely the best one. 

Tatiana and Spoilers:

Let’s be real with ourselves, the twist was so obvious. I do also think, though, that obvious twists aren’t bad if they’re just good reveals. At some point, a person just has experienced so many stories that “only pretty good” twists are easy to spot. It doesn’t mean that the twists are bad, it just means you yourself experienced.

I feel like her transition from rock to EDM was pretty understandable, even as a non-musician. She was so caught up in what she assumed was popular that it basically consumed her. It’s easy as an artist to want to forgo what you truly want to make in favor of what makes you popular, and clearly since her transition to EDM made her the CEO of the biggest company in the city (world?) that probably made her think she truly needed to change her outlook. Then, when she saw B2J try to bring it back, she sort of coined them as being as misguided as she was and knocked them down a peg. Plus, they were kinda being jerks about it.

It’s kinda like the Trolls sequel, where everyone pegs rock music fanatics as being too stuck up in their own heads to appreciate other types of music, which honestly seems more like the case than the alternative. When I first heard of the story of the game, I was seriously hoping they did put an asterisk on B2J’s ambitions because they were a bit sketchy from the start. 

That’s kinda where I want to talk about Yinu, because she was the true turning point in what they were doing. She’s literally 9 and yet she’s getting dragged into all this BS. When she said “I hate you all” at the end of her fight, and played a somber tune on her broken piano after the fight destroyed it, you kinda got a kick in the face to realize you’re kinda being an asshole to some of them. Sure, they fight back, but they wouldn’t fight in the first place if they didn’t have to. They are just people who play music under a joint name that B2J just so happened to get in hot water with. 

Then, of course, there’s Kliff, who also reeked of surprise villain, and who’s basically the embodiment of the bad side of B2J, where he just wanted to destroy for his own sake and not for the actual greater good. Once B2J realized their mistake, they backed off, but Kliff was so hard pressed to do what he planned on in the first place he wouldn’t stop. I kinda wish he got a bigger fight to his own since he’s clearly a big enough tech genius to divert a whole satellite into one specific building. Maybe the Elliecopter chase bit was his thing, but I do kind of wish he was there to fight against them too.

Even though Tatiana did kind of reform a bit quick, It’s still not too crazy to assume she could see that B2J was just misguided and the fact that they worked to revert their wrongdoings for her sake would make a pretty strong impressions. They clearly can hold their own, so it’s not like she wouldn’t want them to join NSR too. 

Oh yeah, and her boss fight was clock/time themed. If there’s a theme under space that I love, it’s clocks/time. 

And If I am to be respected by the internet, I must provide a negative opinion to balance out my positive one. I will say that the character model physics (like Mayday’s braids, DK West’s vest thing, Neon J’s fluffy neck thing, etc) got kinda funky at times. Especially DK West’s vest, which was completely messed up for every scene he was in... Also, even though the voices are mostly great, some lines felt a bit off. Just a bit. That good enough? Good.

But yeah anyway that’s another favorite game to add to the pile. Eventually I’m gonna have to compile a true list of my all-time favorite games/movies because I do kind of want to have a solid idea of what my all-time favorites are.

[lizartgurl]

I has questions about Saachi and Yulia...

💤🎂🌙💚🌠🌪️🌌 (only if you want to)

Saachi is Beloved™ bless her bless you bless Yulia bless them all

TWINKY I WILL ALWAYS WANT TO I LOVE THESE GIRLS MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF.

Under the cut because....this is lot xD

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

YULIA falls asleep easily, but she has nightmares triggered by anxiety that make it hard to stay asleep. She has a weighted blanket to help her sleep.

SAACHI uses white noise to help her fall asleep. She has various sounds programmed on her datapad, but her personal favorite is the sound of Coruscaunt's air traffic.

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

is it bad that i have no birthdays for either of them??? star wars don't have earth dates.

YULIA's birthday is in the summer. She has many fond memories of celebrating with loads of extended family. She didn't necessarily get many presents growing up, but the focus was always on spending time with her cousins and grandparents, many of whom died in the Separatist invasion of Ryloth.

SAACHI's birthday is towards the end of the year. She doesn't particularly care about her birthday, but she does enjoy cake and treats. Her best birthday, however, was when Yulia found out and told the 501st, so they made her a cake out of their ration bars and it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

🌙 MOON - what is your oc’s greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

YULIA's greatest wish is to be seen for her brains and not just her looks. It's one of the reasons she gets along so well with the clones, because they're all supposed to be identical, appearance holds little to no meaning for them beyond the first impression. To combat the galactic stereotypes of twi'leks, she often keeps her lekku wrapped up on top of her head under a scarf to make her appear more human. She wears blocky clothing to hide her figure, like her medical scrubs, and puts almost all of her free time into studying.

SAACHI's biggest dream is to be able to take care of herself. She saved for years to be able to have enough money to pay for college on her own, which proved to be the wisest thing she could have done after the galaxy plunged into civil war. She would go so far as to join an internship with a society whose morals she disagrees with because it pays for her schooling, housing, and meals while she is saving money to stand on her own two feet after she graduates.

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

YULIA feels comforted by words. She spends a lot of time apart from her friends and family, and talking with them over holonet is her greatest source of comfort. She keeps certain phrases and promises she's been told written down in a special note on her datapad.

SAACHI feels comforted by touch. There are certain times where she absolutely does not want to be touched, such as when she is feeling overwhelmed, but when she's not overwhelmed she will sink into a hug or hold your hand super tight. It grounds her, and reminds her that she's not alone.

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

YULIA would wish for peace in the galaxy, so that her family might be reunited and she would be able to introduce them to her boyfriend who has spent so long protecting the galaxy.

SAACHI would wish for something along similar lines, but peace for the entire galaxy would not be the first thing on her mind. She would wish for peace and security for herself and her friends, a place where they wouldn't have to worry about the rest of the galaxy's issues.

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you’ve ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

YULIA has always been a pink twi'lek. Her name was originally Ulina, but I changed it because Yulia sounds more French and rolls off the tongue better. She wasn't originally Echo's partner, but I wanted to make Saachi's background with the clones a bit more complex, so before Saachi started dating Fives, Yulia and Echo were head over heels for each other.

SAACHI originally didn't have any partners before she met Hunter, but as I slowly made my way through Clone Wars for the first time I realized she didn't have enough trauma and made Fives her ex boyfriend.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

YULIA quite literally was created because Saachi needed a friend and I wanted to add a bit more diversity. I thought about the different colors of twi'leks and like Flora I said "Make it pink!"

SAACHI's big question was "What if Senator Singh from episode 10 had a kid who also needed to be rescued by the Bad Batch?" She is still Senator Singh's daughter, but she's a bit more estranged from him because of her ties to the Republic.