#freefloating

[apothecaryassistant]

Random notes for games that don't exist. I do this constantly, thinking that someday I'll come back around and have a flash of brilliance and re-incorporate these silly mechanics, but probably won't.

I do like the idea of a game that puts you in the shoes of a tour guide, and you have only marginal control over all the idiots on the tour. That sounds like a funny vibe. The other two are much more bare-bones, and I'm not even sure the card-game one could even work...

Oh, and I finished off book 29 over the weekend, so I need to move these scans for the incoming sketchbook.

[canis-dies]

...oh. you need a name.

[chipjrwibignaturals]

been havin a lil rap beef fixation for the last few days and i think im realizing that im not as much here for the music as i am here to appreciate the absolute raw Hater Energy

[jacksoldsideblog]

do you ever just.

[coridallasmultipass]

It took me, ugh, MONTHS (2), to get to cleaning the two shrimp tanks I have... I had IRL issues going on that would have made it extremely difficult to do a water change especially while injured, and I just had to keep putting it off. It's just shrimp, so it wasn't like, the worst situation, especially since I have established plants and the tanks are a couple years old. There was just a lot of algae build-up on the glass, and, well... Let me just say it was not contributing to my mental health and well-being while the tanks were in that state.

I tested the water before I started cleaning and the parameters were fine (like, I could have left the tanks even longer if I would be okay with selling my soul to the Algae Collective), and the plants and shrimp look fine, too (I mean, I've obviously been keeping an eye on the tanks bc I sit right next to them). Actually, I'd wager to say that the plants are looking really great (the lilies haven't died off [yet? This is the longest period of time I've seen them stay... foliage... fol... foliated? Idk.] and the cryptocoryne in the 10gal is fucking huge and needs to be rearranged, just not right now). That fucking algae was a motherfucker to get off the 10gal (it's a plastic tank and I think that makes the algae grip harder than the glass 5gal).

[Also, fyi, depending on the tank's needs and stability, recommended water changes are a small one every week or every other week. My parameters don't seem to do anything dramatic, so I usually aim for a 20-30% water change every third week (just depends on how much vacuuming needs to be done and how cooperative the shrimp are with moving aside). So 2 months is still a lot. I still did the normal 30% ish amount, since doing more will risk the shrimp's well-being if there's a sudden change in everything, and my water parameters indicated a change was unnecessary - but I don't test for more than the minimum freshwater tests, so there could be a buildup of some mineral I'm not testing for, which is why the change IS actually necessary regardless of what my test kit says - because these tanks were evaporating a lot in summer, it condenses the minerals added with each water addition, even tho I usually top up with R.O. water.]

My back is fucking killing me lol. It has been killing me since spring when it 'went out' for the first time, and I'm not getting any relief, it sucks. But this had to be done.

The 5gal is looking pretty cloudy still, since the filter was super gunked up and I accidentally spilled gunk back in, so I may need to retest the 5gal parameters tomorrow just to make sure I don't have to do another water change, but it'll probably be fine, right? Shrimp love mulm and detritus. I did give both tanks a big ole algae tab for their trouble, tho. (I need a fuckening dish for the big tank. I really wanna clean off that white quartz rock again, but being white means it's an algae magnet, and it's just gonna go green again after a month or two.)

Anyway, shrimp tax:

I lov thees widdle oange bebies.

Wish I could take better pictures rn, but I am. Like. Dying. My recommendation: never live in an A-frame style room if you have the option. The wall above my tanks is slanted, and NOT fun for my back to bend underneath the wall for maintenance. (My only flat wall in the room is for my TV/PC.) Also, treat your back nicely, in general. I unfortunately have not had the option to treat my back nicely since spring (fall now), because 'when it rains it pours,' and heavy shit that needs to be moved will not move itself. Once I get a few more things in my room in order, I will hopefully be done with the IRL chaos, bc I have Halloween socks to knit, and I'm not putting that off for another year. (I'm still mad that I couldn't make the ones I planned last year. And I found more Halloween yarn I forgot I bought, so I'm gonna try to make multiple socks.) And I just really need to fucking chill and knit and stop having panic attacks and meltdowns.

[rockafirevevo]

who is this guy and why does nobody like him

[shadowkat2000]

One day I will be fully packed and it won’t be the night before I leave

[warpweighted]

in retrospect I can trace the exact roots of my special interest in textiles and it all started when I was given one of these bitches as a toddler

and I kept it in my room for a decade because I found it meditative

[rainbowgod666]

He has autism

Source

Please look at my ridiculous rabbit's ridiculous legs dangling off a box

[spearxwind]

What's Caval up to in CD? I remember them from the headworld chart of yours but don't recall any art of them after that and I was curious since they're the only more "fully fish"-like mer character we know if

they are def not the only fully fish character in CD, just the only one ive talked about x) their vibe is still the same one, Caval works part time at a drink stand on the beach and surfs in their off time!

[knottybliss]

It’s Saturday night and freefloating anxiety is welling up, what do we do, gang?

Driiiiiink!

NO! …well yes, but only as a wee side quest. We do THINGMAKE! Tonight’s thingmakery is twofold. First, yarn prep!

I got these two skeins of yarn on massive, massive sale not too long ago - Jaggerspun Green Line, 100% organic wool in Caramel and Twig. Normally $18/hank and I only paid $15 for both. WIN! (Am I bragging? I’m from New England. Of course I’m bragging.)

I’m getting increasingly confident in my knitting, and I think I’m going to try some kind of a thing with these on needles rather than my usual hooking. Which means that these need to become center pull balls. And also I need a pattern. Suggestions welcomed!

The other project is another skulls shawl in this silver wool yarn. It’s weighty yarn, meant to be a rug yarn, but it is surprisingly touchable. I think if, when I get it done, I hit it with some serious fabric softener and beat the crap out of it, it’ll actually be pretty nice.

If nothing else, I always love making this pattern. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

What are y’all working on?

[strawbxttries]

ewww i just saw waycest in my feed. ewwwww. it took me an entire minute too to register it as waycest cuz i just stares at it blankly like “wtf am i looking at…” and i jumped so loudly when i realized it was waycest omggggg why is it freefloating in my feed. i need to bleach my eyes.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #609

Wimple piranha!

A good portion of this fish's diet consists of scales of other fish species and fellow wimple piranhas! They swim towards their target at great speeds and bite down on their side at collision, knocking off scales with their teeth and through the sheer force of the impact, but will also simply suck any freefloating scales into their mouth.

[larkral]

Oh, hello. Wednesday, huh? Thanks for the tag @artsyunderstudy !!

SO this week I have been doing MANY THINGS including many fannish things. Including things in several fandoms. Me earlier this year: I truly cannot handle having more than one thing on the go. Me now: Yes, maybe I do have six active writing projects in three different fandoms as well as four podfics on the go. WHAT OF IT!?

I've finished recording all of my podfics, and I'm editing them now and... well, it's hard. One is edited, one is 1/8th edited, and the other two are freefloating audio. But, uh, yeah, here's some audio. Because. I... well, you'll get it.

Yes, I titled this file TENDER because I just, it's... yeah. I'm not totally sure whether I'm allowed to say who/what I'm podficcing... (@caught-on-tape-fest can you advise?) But, anyway, probably someone will get it based on that snippet.

Below the cut: snippets of writing and tags!

Here, also, is a little, silly segment of my OMGCP fic, the Holsom Timeloop, featuring an OC who, let me just say, I gave excellent breasts, and zero flaws. I will accept no critiques:

He bumps into someone as he turns, attempts to keep anyone from falling with one hand in the steadying region of what should be a shoulder but turns out to be a truly exceptional handful of cleavage.  "Shit, I'm so sorry," he says, taking a half-step back and looking at the woman he just groped.  There's a lovely flush on her olive cheeks, and her hair is a cloud of beautiful, wild curls.  Marjorie. She's in his o-chem class and she's cute. She's been cute all semester. And smart. And funny. Though her typical cozy-sweater-and-jeans look in class does not betray how truly magnificent her tits are. They're propped up by some kind of bra magic in defiance of gravity, and barely contained by the blue-green fabric of her shirt.  She laughs. "You're forgiven. Though by the transitive property, you definitely owe me a drink."

I also wrote another couple hundred words on my @carryon-reverse-bang beach fic, of which these are some:

The moon is rising and the tide is coming in. "D'you know," he says. "Even if there were no moon, we'd still have tides?" I hum. I look over at him. His silhouette is blurred by the rays of the setting sun, lighting him up from behind like an unearthly being.

Tagging @stitchyqueer @thewholelemon @confused-bi-queer @raenestee @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @yeonjunenby @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars @nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost  @chen-chen-chen-again-chen  @ionlydrinkhotwater @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @shrekgogurt @forabeatofadrum   @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl @blackberrysummerblog @valeffelees @imagineacoolusername @orange-peony @j-nipper-95 @whogaveyoupermission @wellbelesbian @rimeswithpurple

[kalevalakryze]

Firebird

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka (TV) Pairings: Shin Hati/ Sabine Wren Characters: Sabine Wren, Shin Hati, Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger, Hera Syndulla, Ghost Crew 2.0,  Warnings: Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Explosions Notes: For Whumptober Day  16 and @sabineweek Day 2 Prompts: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” | Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.” + Icarus Word Count: 3,571 AO3 Link: Here!

“Sabine, they’ve got TIE’s taking off.” Ezra’s voice rushed over comms, voice strained from exertion from whatever fight he’d gotten himself into.

“Copy that, do we have eyes on which shuttle is carrying the Lieutenant?” The Mandalorian dropped her rangefinder and rose her eyes to the sky, boot pressed firmly against an incapacitated trooper’s throat where she’d engaged on the rooftops. 

“It will be the one with a burn across the third quadrant of its left wing.” Shin followed, and while her voice was much calmer than Ezra’s, Sabine could feel the strain of her altercation across their bond in the force, feel the ebb and flow of the force where Shin used its power to keep plastoid covered troopers off of their closing position, flowing so freely beside Ezra’s that despite the odds being against them, they moved like a finely oiled machine. 

“On it,” Sabine cast her fuel gauge a wary look, there was just enough in her tanks that she might be fine, and from the screaming of a TIE fighter arcing through the air, she knew there was no time to top off at the Ghost. A TIE swirled overhead, left wing sparking and burning from a lightsaber having cut through it on takeoff. 

“Kark it,” Sabine grumbled, tapping at her gauge with a shake of her head. “We ball.” The woman took to the sky smoothly, jet fuel sparking into a high flame as she dumped more to keep up with the fighter.

The Ghost soared through the sky, streaking past Sabine and offering her a chance to grab on to Chopper’s head to save some fuel as fire was concentrated against the shields and engines to slow down the surviving Imperial’s ascent. 

Before the Ghost could pull away, Sabine was throwing herself from the ship’s hull, fingers brushing out as her jetpack sputtered, wrapping around one of the handles poking out past the hull to yank her weight against it, boots scrambling to push against the durasteel, hooking into the space in between ports to keep herself steady.

“Sabine, you need to hurry!” Hera called, exasperated as she pitched the ghost to the side, rolling out of the way just a hair away from the path of plasma as the TIE opened fire. 

“Work in progress, Hera!” Sabine shouted into her comms, hooking her fingers into the latch of the tie to stabilize before she could dig through a pouch on her belt, revealing her stack of the newest mixture of thermal detonators and the dye packs attached to the explosives. “Hello, beautifuls.” She breathed, fingers ghosting over the neatly stacked explosives. 

Piling them into a fistful, Sabine started planting them each, using the force to sail them across to the inside supports of the fighter’s wings, lining the hatch with enough to blow the top and settling the last couple against the engines, just in case somehow, the hull would survive. 

They rose closer to the upper atmosphere, Sabine’s helmet automatically clicking itself shut and releasing pressure to adjust. “Hey guy, I don’t have freefloating in space on my bucket list for the year,” She grumbled, making quick work of getting her charges set. 

“Sabine!” Several panicked voices hollered her names, staticy over comms the further she got out of range. The Mandalorian’s head shot to the side in time to watch an X-Wing swing in for a strafing run, she didn’t know the pilot, and wasn’t linked into their comms, but she could hear Hera on their open channel, ripping in to the pilot to get them to stop. 

It was too late, however, plasma scorched through the air, singing the air with a heavy smell of ozone. Sabine watched the blue lasers arc towards her before the Ghost could sweep in to incapacitate the fighter. Her legs moved too slow when she pushed off the hull, body turning as she fired up her jetpack, propelling herself away from the fighter half a second before the lasers struck the TIE and ignited her charges. 

Sabine’s head turned in time to watch the colorful, fiery explosion behind her; at least it looked as cool as she figured it would, she’d have to make sure she saved the clip in her helmet to watch later. 

Her jetpack sputtered mid flight, dropping her right into the path of the first shockwave. She didn’t have much chance to see the TIE go down, when paint speckled across her visor and then she was sent into a freefall, the resounding shockwaves hitting her like brick walls with a personal agenda against her existence. 

She was floating in a limbo of dizzy and peaceful, limbs too heavy to move, and her eyelids felt glued shut with weight pressing into her eye sockets to keep her from opening them.

There was a bustle of activity floating into her ears, fading like her grip on the world around her. She wanted to snap at all the people moving around her. Couldn’t they tell she was trying to sleep? A loud, persistent beeping ground away at her nerves, but she was useless in willing her body to shut off whatever alarm was going off.

The beeping grew higher in pitch, there were no breaks in the thudding tone it had carried before. At least the movement in the room seemed to cease, a pin could drop in the silence and bated breath of every body in the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Now she could get some sleep.

“Sabine.” There was a distortion in the voice that called out to her, warbling through the very core of her being, through the will of the force. Shin’s voice rang in the notes of their bond, scratchy and deep, but the other voice, the notes she could pick out, a tone she’d only heard in her dreams, a voice and a face she was terrified of forgetting, that had been harder and harder to pick out every day.

She wanted to snap her eyes open, to fly out of bed and run into her buir’s arms, to do something but the stones inside of her skin wouldn’t give her a chance to budge. 

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, me’suum’ika.” Shin’s voice sounded strained, and too far away, like their bond was growing stagnant in Sabine’s indecision. Fingers wrapped around her hand, warm where they sparked against the unbeaten pulse point against her wrist. “You promised,” Their voice wavered with emotion that they fought to keep concealed, Sabine hadn’t heard that tone since they’d gotten her back from the Bandits. 

Promises meant more to Shin than even their connection to the force, Sabine knew that better than anyone, and well… She intended to keep her word. Clan Wren would still be waiting for her, at the end; The Manda would not go anywhere, the cosmic force would still connect all beings, but if she walked out on Shin now… What kind of Mandalorian would she be? Surely not one who deserved to join her people in the afterlife they’d all strived for.

Sabine stopped struggling to see Ursa, there was no where she could go where her mother would not be able to reach, and if the unthinkable happened and she did somehow forget the timber of her voice or the sharpness of her face, she knew there were hundreds of others walking across the galaxy who would be more than happy to help her remember.

Shin’s hand started to slip from Sabine’s palm; She couldn’t move to reach out for them like she wanted, she didn’t want them to leave her either, didn’t want to see someone else give up on her. Someone was crying, voices were murmuring, she could hear the charge of shock paddles-

The first beep of the heart monitor was hard won, an exhaustive struggle that had the same reaction in the room as the flatline. Oxygen forced back into her lungs painfully, and warm fingers brushed against her pulse point once more, squeezing at her wrist to feel the next thud of her heart in her veins themselves. The tension in the room was cut with each thud and each successful breath, pain reigniting in her body in the feeling of broken bones and half sealed abrasions.

“Better,” She could hear the relief in Shin’s voice as their fingers interlocked with the limpness of her own, squeezing her hand even as the activity picked back up around them.

Ahsoka’s presence washed over her in their own bond, another string that she’d familiarized herself with, the calm soaring feeling that came with each interaction the Master and Apprentice shared through their woven destinies. 

“Prep her for the bacta tank,” A medic called out, unfamiliar voice ringing in her ears as cold gloved hands started touching her, though from the warmth seeping into her hand, she was able to rest easy knowing no one had moved Shin, at least until after the calm and quiet suggestion of sleep that had been passed through their bond, and the promise that she would wake up on the other side… eventually.

There was no way to gauge how much time had passed, but every now and then, Sabine would gain an awareness of the real world happening around her. Of Shin’s back pressed into the cool glass of her bacta tank, steadfast in their post as her protector. 

“Shin, she won’t wake up anytime soon,” Ahsoka’s voice floated through the void, in her mind’s eye, Sabine could make out the vision of Ahsoka stepping into the medbay, arms crossed over her chest and a carefully impassive look on her face; Ahsoka learned just as fast as Sabine had that Shin didn’t like sympathies, but she also knew that if Ahsoka’s distaste of Shin’s actions showed, the Gray Apprentice would close themselves off further and often turn to violence to defend their actions or beliefs. 

“You need to go take care of yourself,” Sabine could hear the lightness of the Togruta’s footsteps as she came to a stop in front of the tank, could feel piercing blue eyes on her suspended form, as if Ahsoka knew that Sabine had some awareness of the world around her. 

“I will not leave,” Shin was closed off to them visually, she could not find a way to bring some vision of the other woman to her eye, though she assumed, from the unease rolling off of Ahsoka and the concern in her tone, that her wolf wasn’t doing the best with her incapacitation. This must have been an argument the two force-sensitives found themselves in often, as Shin’s voice curbed on dangerous, the air Sabine could not feel filling with the tension of a hand curling around a saber hilt. 

“There is no reason to fight, Shin,” Ahsoka called, calling for calm across their own unstable bond; Her second apprentice varied greatly to the Mandalorian, and Ahsoka had never been able to determine if it had been Baylan’s teachings, or the influence of her time with the bandits that had them so willing to fight in a situation it did not call for. “She isn’t going to like waking up and seeing you like this.”

“Then it will not be the worst thing I have done to her.” They replied, and while there wasn’t a hint of regret, their tone took on something somber that Sabine wasn’t a fan of. The Mandalorian could feel the brush of their muddled presence, reaching out to the anchor point of their bond, to the scar that entwined them together forever. 

Drifting off to the comfortable thrum of their force bond being brushed against, Sabine was only half aware of the Togruta sweeping defeatedly from the medbay. 

Consciousness did not find Sabine when they emptied the bacta tank and pulled her from it, nor did it find her as she was cleaned up and reassessed, as what wounds were left had been set to heal on their own, with minimal medical interference, now that her body would need to fight on its own once again, enjoying her quiet limbo over the thought of returning her active mind to the real world.

The first time her eyes opened in weeks she was met with dim lights and near silence. 

Bandages wrapped firmly around her abdomen, criss crossing against her back where the jetpack had burned and shrapnel had made homes in her skin, now almost entirely healed after her extended nap. Sabine gave her muscles an experimental flex to ensure she could still move, fingertips touching and toes wriggling under the warm blankets; someone must have just recently changed the thin hospital sheets for ones straight from the warmer. Her movement brought the reminder of pain, aggravating sore muscle under the haze of protection offered by the medicine pumping through her IV.

Tired golden eyes scanned the rest of the room next. There was a raw set of armor, seemingly fresh from a forge, stacked in a corner next to weapons crates, where she could see Westar power cells placed carefully on top of the locked containers, and a newer model of a jetpack she couldn’t recall the name of leaning up against it all. 

Shin was settled into a hard-backed chair shoved right up against her cot, knees pulled up to their chest and a datapad sitting against them, fingers idly swiping along a document that Sabine couldn’t focus her gaze on. Her wolf looked exhausted, Sabine couldn’t tell how much of the darkness around her eyes was eye makeup, or bags from lack of sleep. Their hair was in disarray, even the braid carefully tied and sitting at their collarbone seemed frayed and rushed, as if  tying it had been a mere afterthought to something more important. 

The armor strapped to their arms and legs was filthy, burns scorched across unpainted metal and deep groves went unfilled, a state Shin hadn’t even let become of themselves when they’d all been stranded on Peridea. 

The only indication Sabine had that they’d showered or changed clothes even once since they’d gone after Thrawn’s contact had been the dark blue of Ahsoka’s tunic bunched up around their torso, leaving their bare arms on display (which, Sabine would never complain about, if only Shin wasn’t wearing gauntlets and pauldrons strapped tight to her bicep), and the way pants so clearly borrowed from Ezra were tied tight around her waist, bunched up and stuffed into her boots with their greaves strapped awkwardly around the extra fabric. 

“You look like Bantha shit,” The Mandalorian croaked tersely, wincing at the feeling of glass in her dried out throat. Silver eyes flashed to meet her open eyes immediately, the datapad clattering to the floor in the scramble of their legs to push outwards to turn themselves to face her.

“You look dead,” Their voice sounded as equally rough as Sabine’s own, bringing a teasing smile to tug at the purple haired woman’s lips. 

“What, didn’t-” A dry cough rattled her chest, she only managed to turn her head to the side to cough into the pillow, her arms still felt like they were full of beskar. “Didn’t have anything nice to say to anyone? Didn’t say anything at all?” It was meant to be tasing, but the pull of their lips into what little resemblance of a pout they would allow answered enough. 

“I’ll go get the medic.” They stood sourly to pick up the datapad, tossing it into the seat they’d been occupying for gotal’ad knows how long. 

Sabine finally reached out, atrophied muscles protesting even as her fingers latched around the cold metal of their wrist. “Wait…” 

They did, turning to glower at them with a rage that had too much vulnerability under the surface, weakness they did not want the Mandalorian to be privy too, even if she could feel it in the knot of burnt out nerves in her abdomen. “Would you lay with me, and just… forget the world a minute? Ten out of ten recommend.” 

Shin’s weight shifted between their feet uncomfortably, even as Sabine forced herself to move, to make room in the hospital bed that felt both too big and too small. “You need the medic,” They insisted, but it wasn’t a denial of the offer; Shin looked exhausted, and the prospect of laying down seemed enough that they’d be willing to let Sabine get away with just a few more minutes without being poked and prodded by medics. 

“I need you more right now, I’m not going anywhere,” She let go of their wrist, hoping the invitation was  enough to keep them around. IVs and wires were moved too carefully when they’d finally relented, though Sabine could feel the tightness in their muscles ease as their head dropped back against her pillow.

Shin was laying ramrod straight next to her, as if moving would break her, afraid to do anything that could hurt her what a softie, stabbing people one day, then playing statue to avoid inconveniencing them almost two years down the line.. 

“C’mere, Kurs’kaded.” Another grunt of exertion as she forced her arms to move, though they were quick in how they turned to cave into the touch the minute Sabine offered, tucking themselves up into her side as their face found their spot in the crook of her neck, fisting the fabric of the uncomfortable shirt in their fists as their nose crinkled. 

“You don’t smell right,” They complained in a quiet whisper, bringing a tired giggle from the older woman.

“Plenty of time to fix that later, doubt anyone’s been able to nail my skin care routine during my nap,” Sabine’s fingers brushed through their hair, relaxing more and more with how their shoulders eased and the way the force around them felt like it started to clear. “Speaking of naps…”

“You need a medic,” But their voice was already thick with sleep, breath soft where it began to even out against Sabine’s neck, the offer of safety in the arms they’d been missing for so long too enticing; they couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept. 

“You spent so long watching after me, let me return the favor, just for a bit.. Someone will come along eventually.” It didn’t take Shin long at all to nod off with the promise, and the press of her fingers against Sabine’s scar to ground themselves to her life probably wasn’t detrimental to assuring her of the Mandalorian’s survival either. 

“You’re awake,” Sabine’s attention was pulled from the sleeping blonde for the first time in hours, stopping her thousandth trace of the constellations craved across their skin in beauty marks and freckles. 

“Or you’re just tripping really hard right now,” Sabine teased in a quiet whisper, watching Ahsoka as the woman moved to lower herself quietly into the seat closest to her. 

Ahsoka’s lips pursed, clearly fighting a smile as her hand came to rest on the open space of the mattress between them, itching towards touching Sabine to verify for herself just how alive her Apprentice was. Sabine gave a quiet, fake dramatic sigh as she brought her hand down to rest overtop of Ahsoka’s, much smaller than the Togruta’s as she curled her fingers around the older woman’s. “What did you guys even do while I’ve been out?”

“Well… Some of us-” Her eyes flickered to Shin before coming back to Sabine with a knowing look. “Waited for you to come back.” 

Sabine offered a nod of her head in understanding as she bought her other hand from Shin’s hair to rub circles into their back. “What about everyone else?”

“Mmm. Ezra and I handled the Imperial cell; There were whispers of a New First Order, but it doesn’t seem as if they’re organized enough, not after our last round of strikes.” Ahsoka shifted, hand slipping from Sabine’s to fill the empty canteen that had been sitting, just out of reach, toppled over when Sabine had reached for it in the force, too weak to grab it with her abilities, and too disappointed when she’d found it empty.

Water was filled and passed over gratefully, as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing the slow, heavy breathing from the slumbering wolf; the only reaction they had to Sabine gulping down water was to press their face closer to the movement of her throat and to slip under her shirt, chasing the warmth that had been steadily rising in the older woman’s skin. 

“How are you feeling?” Ahsoka asked at last as she returned to her chair, taking the canteen when Sabine had finally finished with it. 

“I’m not going anywhere for a hot minute, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sabine promised, knowing that she had zero intention of almost dying any time soon, and that she doubted she’d find a return to the battlefield for at least a month while she figured out the limits her wrecked body could handle.

“Next time, don’t push yourself so hard. It was a close one,” 

“You’re one to talk.”

“Sometimes, the student teaches the Master, you know.” Ahsoka’s facial marking rose with the knowing smirk she offered, before she shook her head and rose. “You should get more rest while you can, I’m sure the medics will come to check on you once they believe Shin is asleep and won’t attack them again.”

“.... again?...” 

“Go back to sleep, Sabine,” 

[littleeyesofpallas]

Got a fun ask from @macchiato-dreaming22.

I'll be honest I'm kind of weird in my relationship with headcanon and fanfic in that I'm kind of not all that engaged with characters as characters, if that makes sense? I'm not the type to get hung up on "he would not say that" sort of quibbles, or really dwell freefloating in the spaces inbetween canon characterization the way a lot of fanfic writers, or RPers, or stans or shippers or whatever else you'd call it do. I can appreciate the need or the preference to do so but it doesn't really call to me the way it seems to to them. So what I tend to do is try and round up all the otherwise loose bits of canon trivia and try and piece them together, only loosely speculating about things that havent happened based on their adjacency to things that have. I dunno if that makes any sense at all as a distinction...

Anyway point being is that the fact that I've never thought very hard about how old the Visored are individually/relatively sort stems from that M.O. but also I can definitely figure out what my own existing headcanon would imply is the answer to that question, and so that's what I'm going to do.

(And to be clear I'm not really going to fuss about the ages, relative or otherwise, within the strict canon of completed manga so much as I'm going to take my headcanon/AU for the character concepts and run with things from there. That might not make sense right now, but it should clear itself up as I get going.)

oh boy this got long...

So as a refresher on the AU I never wrote: Given their introduction between vol.21-26, my headcanon is that the Visored were never a bunch of gotei captains and lieutenants, they were a bunch of humans, each became something like a substitute shinigami in their own right, and then had those powers taken from them, at which point Urahara conveniently appeared and took advantage of each of their desperation to get their powers back to experiment on them, working out the system he'd eventually use on Ichigo. So it's not only the hollow aspect as an impurity, but the fact that they (re)obtained their shinigami skills in spite of being stripped of their substitute shinigami status that makes them criminals. But in the process, each of them would either be abandoned or otherwise escape Urahara's "care" and/or observation.

Given the implicit consequences of the Shattered Shaft method, and Bleach's general world building, the elephant in the room we never had addressed was that because Ichigo and in this interpretation of their premise, the Visored, all had their soul chains severed, thus separating their soul from their body, making them ghosts. That in mind, I consider them all to have stopped aging when the Visored process took place, and THAT is where I anchor most of them to certain time periods based on their basic design and sense of style. (technically I do sort of head canon them as all having been turned in the 1970s, thus ~30years prior to the start of Bleach, which is, ya know, the right age for the father of a 15yo to have been about 15 30 years ago... but if i just left it at that it'd be kind of boring, so I'm letting these age ranges drift a little, if only to make this whole thought experiment more interesting.)

So for starters, I associated Shinji with the British Jazz-Rock and Mod scenes of the 1960s: the hair, the teeth, the ugly ties, the scolor scheme, even the trenchcoat he wore the one time at random, the only thing he was missing was a moped. I also very specifically think of him as a Pete Townshend analog for some reason. So given that he passed as a 15yo highschooler in Karakura, I'm going to say I think he was 15 when he was turned in 1965, so it aligns with The Who's release of the song My Generation. So that puts Shinji's birth in 1950.

The easiest to nail down actually would just be Mashiro, since she clearly borrows from very Himitsu Sentai Go-ranger specifically, but also Kamen Rider more generally. That puts a cap on how old she could be at 1975 as the airdate of the original Super Sentai series. It's hard to judge her age considering she's so distinctly childish, but it's kind of implied that even supernatural aging aside, she's immature for her age. It's an arbitrary call to make, but I'm gonna say she was 10 in 1975 when the tokusatsu thing left an impact on her, but got turned when she was older and just never grew out of it. So born 1960.

Another somewhat straight forward one to pin down is Kensei, who I associate with the Vietnam War, and implicitly the 1969 lottery draft, and the US Military occupation of Okinawa as a launch pad into Vietnam. Although historically the actual draft applied only to those born between 1944-1950, making any draftee who deployed in 1970 at least 20yo, and I see the Visored as kind of explicitly teens, so I'll say he wasn't drafted but volunteered and was 18 in 1970 and when he was turned. That makes him born in 1952.

(I could have alternatively nailed him down to the 1980s bosozoku scene on account of his later theming, but the super distinctive cargo pants, combat boots, short hair, and a rubber grip combat knife all point to more of a military theme than a biker thing --also there's some military motif in one of his random attacks to boot. Although arguably that style of knife grip is even more modern, but I don't get the impression Kubo was thinking about it that hard, just about whether it gave off the right (para)military vibe.)

Funny enough Risa is one of the harder ones to really tie to a time period, as her classic sailor-fuku could be placed anywhere from the 1920s to the 1980-90s when they started falling out of style. Notably though they have a stronger association with middle school than high school, and Risa is also a pervert, so I want to say she's wearing it as a fetish thing, rather than as an actual student. That in mind, the school girl fetish really took off in the 80s and hit its peak in the 90s just before social awareness and political actions to try and curb the trend started being put into place. (Oh and I forgot, her Visored mask is a Gyan from Mobile Suit Gundam, so that already caps her at 1979.)

(I was also going to add something about Comiket and the birth of the doujin market, but that actually overlaps with this timeline already so it doesn't really narrow things down at all. It's pretty arbitrary but I'm gonna pin her to 1984 as the date the term "Cosplay" was first used. Assuming she was also 18 at the time, that makes her born in 1966)

(There's ALSO a weird thing in one of her attacks, and the general style of her shikai, and very very loosely a possible Chun-li reference that all seem to suggest she's got a bit of a chinese thing going on too? but I don't see how it gels with the rest of it, and it's just kind of a deadend to look further into. Technically there's a whole character type of the fujoshi/female otaku being very into chinese historical/fantasy, so like... maybe that because ti woud mesh with the general otaku vibe of the school girl uniform??? Theres a reason I didn't pursue this angle...)

Rose, I could try and triangulate the whole bishounen trend in 70s shoujo manga, but I'm gonna be lazy and just say he's the same age a Bjorn Andresen and born in 1955 as that more or less lands him right smack dab in the timeframe I would've ended up pinpointing anyway, give or take. For technicality's sake I'll say he was turned at 17, thus technically qualifying him as a proper bishounen and not just bidanshi, making him turned in 1972.

Hacchi is so hard to work with in this context... So long as this is all just headcanon anyway I'm gonna let go of even loose anchors to canon and just say his whole tux getup is a host club thing. (I know that doesn't quite feel right, even to me, but I gotta pick something instead of just juggling "maybes" and "sortas" for forever... I can't really match the look to much else eotherwise... Like a wedding caterer maybe? One half of a classic Japanese standup comedy act? Some kind of a stage magician?) Host clubs only really took off in the late 90s, peaking in the 2000s. Considering the range of dates on the other members this does kind of afford him the chance to be older, although it's sort of weird if he's the only physical adult in the whole group... If I call him 25 at the tail end of the slow decline post 80s bubble economy pop, around 2002, then that makes him born in 1979. (if i shift that back to the start of the pop in 1992, it slides him more in line with the others at 1957, but then he's kind of out of the range of the host club thing.... I dunno, man, Hacchi's an enigma... He really is maybe the absolutel single biggest wrench in this whole thing, which is a damn shame because he's maybe my favorite visored.)

(love that the little cartoon in the sweatpants was the exact thing that showed up when i googled guudara[ぐうたら]:"lazybones; good-for-nothing; idler; slacker; loafer")

It took me a second to remember who I'd missed. Love and his weird slacker, drop out, tracksuit thing scream 80s to me, and technically the whole adidas tracksuit look was in fact a 70s-80s thing. it's a much less specific kinda look than some of the others where it can be tied to specific characters, titles, and authors, or historical events... I'm gonna go out on a limb with this one and just tether it to 1984 and the release of the Run-DMC album, if only because they're the only specific names I can tie to the tracksuit look, rather than just a general casualwear trend. If Love was, say, 17 in 1984, he'd have been born in 1967.

And then that just leaves Hiyori.... Hers is such a general look that I have like zero idea where to place it. It falls into a similar time span as Love's with the track suit thing. but then she's got that mountain hick country bumpkin sorta thing going for her, which suggests she's kind of out of style, so then is her tracksuit look sort of out of date? She very specifically has some general parallels with Kumiko, in the manga Gokusen as a homely, spunky, firebrand kinda gal. If I consider that Gokusen came out in 2000, and had Kumiko be 23yo, then if I map that onto Hiyori, she'd have been born in 1977? But clearly turned very early as she's by far the youngest of the Visored physiologically.

BDAY - name (age apparent/real)

MAY 10, 1950 - Shinji (15/55)

JUL 30, 1952 - Kensei (18/53)

MAR 17, 1955 - Rose (17/50)

SEP 8, 1957 - Hacchi (25/48)

APR 1, 1960 - Mashiro (16/40)

FEB 3, 1966 - Risa (18/39)

OCT 10, 1967 - Love (17/38)

AUG 1, 1977 - Hiyori (13/28)

I guess the only thing I'd do to manually tweak these is nudge a few years around to more evenly space them out... Maybe make Mashiro a Visored before Kensei, because I feel like that's how their some of their conversations in the early arc pointed. I can't figure out if I feel like Hiyori gives off the vibes of being the first or the last recruited Visored... I like that she bosses others around like she has seniority, but also she seems like the most inexperienced and rough around the edges, as well as the overt comparison to Ichigo. Although actual age-vs-apparent age aside, the order in which they were actually recruited into the ramshackle gang they are is a timeline all its own.

Again though, I think of the Visored as that ramshackle band of undead kids squatting in an abandoned factory hoping the samurai death cops don't find them, or the mad scientist that threw them into a hole in the first place --half of them convinced that the whole process was a mistake and who just want to not have a monster inside them anymore, and that the hogyoku is the key to turning them back, but then at least Shinji secretly convinced that he's just a god in the making and wants to hougyoku to push the transformation even further.(ala the general thrust of the Fullbringer premise) The ones Ukitake betrayed for the sake or balance and order, ala his yinyang theming. The one he's secretly using ichigo to monitor via the substitute badge. Rather than just a bunch of weird coworkers who had one bad night and then just sat around doing nothing for like 100 years.

(Again, see all the odd little details of how they were introduced that later got steamrolled or just outright ignored: Urahara and Isshin talking as if they're not in touch with the Visored. Hiyori's between-two-worlds talk with Shinji emphasizing the line between humans and shinigami. Hiyori and Shinji having signs of a practiced recruitment process they're using with Ichigo. Kensei not being at all familiar with Mashiro's training process. Kensei thinking Orihime slipping thru the barrier could've been another visored, as if it's just assumed there are an indeterminate number of others out there unaffiliate with them. etc... yadda yadda.. I've made this post somewhere before, right? or has it only ever popped up in bits and pieces?)

Anyway all that just to reiterate that this whole exercise is less preoccupied with trying to make any particular "sense" out of the manga's canon backstory, and more just a pulling on loose threads of my own headcanon.

(Oh, and because there wasn't any better place to throw it in there: in this headcanon, Shinji was Isshin's substitute 30 years ago.)