#i cant believe its not star wars!

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[oshamirs]

Osha & Qimir + HANDS

[kingofattolia]

Quinlan and Aayla are the original Anakin and Ahsoka. Quinlan being Obi-Wan's age, and Aayla being seven years older than Anakin, Quinlan is only NINE years older than her. Legends Wookieepedia says he took her as his padawan when she was 10, which is patently ridiculous. Even if we age her up to a more new-canon-consistent age, that still gives us 23yo Quinlan and his 14yo padawan. Disaster duo. Terrifying gremlin pair.

[verndusk]

re-drawing a Bad Batch scene a day until season 3 comes out (or i forget): day 8

[sourorchard]

most fics have fox shooting fives being a ultimatum from palpatine between fives death or a certain number of fox’s men. it’s literally the trolley problem. guys. guys its the trolley problem???

[philtstone]

#7, 13, and 22 for the Psych ask game?

7. Favorite Gus moment?

ooooh this one is so hard! burton guster my forevergirl ... he has so many iconic and Big Ticket moments that stand on their own and aren't related to other characters, but the biggest hallmark of gus's character to me will always be how good of a friend he is -- and so all of the scenes that popped into my head are a bit more subtle. it's a tie between the scene in the thornburg virus episode where gus bursts into the hospital room to make sure shawn doesn't confess his feelings to juliet for the wrong reasons, and the scene in "one, maybe two ways out" when gus immediately calls shawn out for being unfair when shawn says its bothering him that juliet is with declan. something about those two scenes really exemplifies why i appreciate gus so much; he's not here to be nice, he's here to be a good and honest friend who values the people he cares about three dimensionally, and sometimes that means not giving them the easy way out. that's not an easy thing to do. for all that gus runs away when the murder and chaos gets too much, he's incredibly brave and forthright when it comes to his personal relationships, more so than any other character on the show. he's the kind of friend i always try to be, and so those moments always stick out to me the most.

an honourable mention to the entire cold open of "office space", though. also the line "goldilocks was a crazy blonde shorty shawn", which makes me fall to pieces laughing every time

13. Favorite secondary character?

who counts as a secondary character??? can i say henry?? can i please say henry??? henrys secondary enough right??? my henry apologia knows no bounds. favorite disaster father in the history of television, no question

22. How did you get into the show?

good question!!! its a very convoluted story lol so i;ll try to speedrun it. also sorry because this is going to get a little bit sentimental and possibly too sincere

i very much subscribe to the "sometimes you encounter a story when you Need It Most" theory and i think my relationship w psych really exemplifies that idea. so once upon a time, years ago, i tried starting it when i was still into brooklyn nine nine -- this was like, 2017 i want to say? and i was kind of immediately put off and never got past episode 1. because i was expecting b99, which psych is absolutely not. its characters are a lot more morally gray and the show's narrative structure isn't a sitcom -- it's a parody of a crime procedural, which i wasn't used to. lucky enough for me, the beloved people in my life made me sit and watch the highlight episodes a few years later, and of course i was charmed, because psych is nothing if not charming and i grew up reading sherlock holmes mysteries as a kid. holmes and watson are kind of inherently a hit. but i think i never really saw it as it was meant to be watched: gradually, and with the breathing room to really understand the characters in the subtle way the show reveals them to you. i also don't think -- and this may sound weird -- i was old enough to appreciate the Point of the show

when i saw it for the first time, the main characters were still Adults to me -- a nebulous concept for sure, because i was just 22 and they technically weren't that much older than me, but it didn't feel that way at all. they looked like grown ups, especially because i was mainly watching later seasons. i was also stuck at home, with my whole family surrounding me, and hadn't really faced the question of "well what the fuck am i supposed to do with my life now?" yet

this last year, i moved really far from home, permanently, for the first time. i am very close with my brother, and for the last 2 years had been lucky enough to be roommates with one of my best friends, who in turn had basically become like a sister to me. in the first few months after moving, i did live with family, but because i was working remotely from a house in the suburbs without a car, i was alone in the house all day. i started putting psych on as background noise because i remembered enjoying it, and it was something the two people i missed most loved ... and i very quickly realized that shawn and gus were 1) basically the same age as me, and 2) one of the few dynamics i'd ever seen on tv that accurately reflected what it felt like for your Person in life to be a sibling.

it was so comforting to have on in the background. it felt like my own siblings were in the room with me, trying their best and making me laugh! and the more i watched, the more i realized that psych, at its core, is a coming of age show .... about what to do when you hit your late twenties, look up, and realize you have no idea what you're supposed to do next. and it takes your hand, and says gently, "well, it's ok. you have time. you don't have to leave what's familiar behind, but you also need to be brave enough to go after something new. it'll be hard, but you'll figure it out with the people you already love, and meet new people you'll love on the way, too."

that oversimplifies it for sure -- but something about that just hit home so unexpectedly. its been so strange moving into this new phase in my life and feeling terrified that i'll be forced to leave the people most important to me behind because Thats Just What Happens When You Grow Up. to encounter this story that was so fun and clever and sincere that showed again and again the opposite of that sentiment was such a balm to my homesickness and truly made moving away a lot easier than i ever expected.

and its just good -- well written and funny and extremely creative, and while it has its imperfections, it sticks the landing at the end, which has always been the most important thing to me, really. so anyway. now im here 5 months later and i think ive dragged like 6 people down with me in the last month, lol. theres probably more to say here but suffice it to say that because of all that, there will always be something very special about this show to me

[timetravelingtoamess]

I DONT CARE CASSIAN AND JYN ARE STILL ALIVE AND THEY ARE LIVING A PEACEFUL LIFE TOGETHER AND THEY ARE IN LOVE

[crescentfool]

got back into S+ the other day so i drew my squid to celebrate :)

look its him :) we even had the canon color of blue hair and pronouns :) (the power of blue hair and pronouns will make you win any battle) (this is a biased statement)

[sissiarte]

Rewatching the honorable ones bc i'm having a case of the feels

[sentimentalslut]

So I've hit a bit of a dead end in my life where I have no idea what to do or what I want to do. Do you have any advice on how to try and figure it all out?

Also I love ur duncney fics you should be an author <3

listen, anon. i'm 26. as much as i am flattered that you think i have it figured out, i do not. i'm willing to bet i wont have it figured out in ten years or twenty or forty-five. the thing is, i'm fine with that.

so here's my advice:

honestly, just keep living. put one foot in front of the other. find things you enjoy for no other purpose than enjoyment.

you don't have to 'do' anything -- living is about experiences. not every one of them have to have a purpose.

most of being human is drifting around and wondering why youre here. none of us really have the answer. that's okay. that's normal. maybe you'll never figure out what you're meant to 'do'. and that's fine!

the thing that keeps me anchored in the sea of Being Alive All the Time, and the thing that keeps most people anchored, is passion.

step one of discovering your passion, whatever it is, is to allow yourself to discover it. pick up pointless new hobbies and let yourself put them down if you dont enjoy them. read new books. read wikipedia articles for things youve never heard of. go on long walks in new parts of your neighborhood. listen to a new podcast. watch a video essay about something stupid youve always been curious about.

make bad art. paint shitty pictures, draw shitty portraits, write shitty stories. let yourself be bad at things. let yourself be purposeless.

accept the fact that you are human and unsure about your place in the universe -- because those two things go hand in hand. this is the curse of sentience. embrace it.

[threepandas]

Bad End: After The War (Next ->)

The click of a button in a mostly quiet room. Machines humming as they churn an endless stream of data. Listening. Receiving. Filtering through the noise, for those bits of intelligence that might win us the war. The outpost was quite. As much as it could be, at least, on this god forsaken moon.

"Perimeter Check?"

More specifically, 'did you get your ass eaten by those horrifying eel-snakes? Because you promised not too, and I WILL be mad.' 'Cept, you know, these channels are technically recorded. Rather not have my snark On Record, thanks. So SUBTEXT.

The familiar, oh so melodious, demonic death screeching of abomination eels and blaster fire comes on comm. A symphony straight out of some sci-fi horror movie, act 3. The part where everybody's getting eaten. Except NOT, because this? This is just my life.

Though the eaten part is still a Very Real Risk.

Which Is FUN.

I wait. Hope I just caught Headshot at just a bad time. Not, you know, in his final moments. Ha ha... Nope! Not! Thinking 'bout that! He's immortal, I'm immortal, and we both live in a happy fun time fairy land of FUCKING WONDERS. Denial? Fuck yeah I know her! Best friend, that one. Gonna be my future kids godparent. Walk me down the aisle. We BESTIES.

There is finally, at long last, ominous silence. Dead or dying? Dead or dying? Which side, eels or Headshot, is Dead or-?

Click.

"Perimeter looks good. Bit of a mess near the east gate, though. We'll need to get the droids to shove some mess over the ledge. They tried to climb again."

Oh thank FUCK. Tension bleeds out of me. This post is hell on my anxiety. I send back the confirm. Slump back on my seat as I keep an eye on his tracker's dot, on the patrol read out. I fucking HATE perimeter checks. They aren't safe. But... well...

This universe? I'm pretty sure, it's an "all the serial numbers filed off" blatant rip off of Star Wars. Might be a fan fiction? Cause, while the troupes are familiar, the "characters", no one is where or WHO they should be. There are also other "totally not X" bits here and there, all of which confuses the fuck out me.

But what I DO know? Is that making a fuss about the safety and well-being of us peons? During this, the "totally not the Clone Wars"? While Evil Dick, Sith-y Pants the Obvious is in charge? GREAT way for our entire outpost to get "tragic casualties of war"-'d. So yeah, no thanks.

Keeping my mouth shut.

And, hey! At least they ate our complete asshole of a commander. Technically we SHOULD be getting a new one... but we were told to make do. Same with all the OTHER critical roles currently empty.

The DICK.

Like? I know he wants to drag out the war and maximize suffering for Evil Not-Sith, Off Brand Space Wizards Of EVIL Powers? But like? Fffffuck yoooou, dude. What the hell. Hope he stubs EVERY toe, always.

The Clones deserve better then this. The SECOND the war is over? I'm stealing Headshot. Fuck this "property of the state" bullshit. Just me 'n him, man. We could go explore the wilds. Or get him a beard and fake glasses. Clone? What clone! This is my BROTHER, Headshot. Our parents were gun-toting hippies. My names Moonrock. Fuck off, maybe. Keep walking.

The second I see him cross the base threshold, I switch over to Droid command. They can't hold my shift forever, but for a bit? Should be fine.

Jogging down the hall and sliding down a few ladders, I finally catch sight of Headshot as he leaves the staging area. Oof. That is a LOT of eel blood. The cleaning bots are cursing up a storm as they follow him. Even from the other end of the hallway... he smells... ripe.

I give him a second to lead the way and for the bots to work behind him. Then join in the little parade. Ah, eel goo. The third worst thing that could come out of going outside. Right behind losing a limb or dying. But hey! I restocked the soaps for ya!

"Doesn't change that it's on my everywhere, Commander."

Oooooh~ breaking out the COMMANDER are we? Is that SASS I hear? Snark perhaps? Why HEADSHOT! Such insubordination~! What EVER shall I do?

He snorts and suggest something anatomically impossible as he gestures to the shower rooms door. I tap it open for him. Goo boy that he is. Grinning I follow and find a bench where I can sit so my back is to him. It... used to be weird, to be honest, this level of living in each others pockets. But time and isolation has eroded a lot.

Clones don't really see boundaries like everyone else. Don't have the same taboos or unspoken social rules. After all... they're all the same gender. Were forced to live basicly in a breadbox with each other. The culture that developed reflects that. And I? Am more of a follower then a "type A". Not passive by any stretch of the imagination, just... eh.

I don't have the social outgoing-ness? I guess? To drag the culture of our base towards MY social norms as opposed towards his. It made him comfortable. I shrugged and went okay. Rinse and repeat. To be honest I was just glad he trusted me enough to SHARE.

Booting up my definitely-not-a-tablet, (which is of course, STUFFED full of various bits of sci-fi technology that only half makes sense) I once again try and connect to the wider army's mainframe. Nothing. I've BEEN trying for weeks now. But for some reason? We're cut off.

No new commands. No new forms to fill. No demands for information.

No UPDATES on what the FUCK is HAPPENING out there.

I'm... not gonna lie, getting nervous. We're a listening outpost. Some of our information is time sensitive. And our SUPPLIES are not infinite. Forget food, if we run out of AMMO? Those nightmare snake-eel THINGS will... Look, long and short of it? I've got an "empty" blaster shoved under my bunk. Two shots left. And compared to the slow, SLOW digestion and meat threshing teeth those horrors have?

At least it's FAST.

But I would REALLY prefer we NOT fucking come to that, you know? That someone would fucking PICK UP. Or? I don't know!? Notice we're offline? Whatever the problem is! The fact that we've gone dark is SPOOKING the fuck out of me.

Not to mention? That even BEFORE communication went down? The chat rooms and update boards weren't making a whole lot of sense. Lot of clone specific references that I didn't get. Memes, maybe? I don't KNOW and that's the part that's killing me. I had no way to CHECK. It all just... went dark.

We're still GETTING data. But? We can't seem to SEND it. Headshot and I checked. I checked the droids while he got the dish and other external devices. Clambering around the roof with his sniper rifle like a well armed, circus trained, mechanic. Nothing was wrong with the droids. And according to Headshot? Nothing was wrong with the dish.

After a while I gave up. Again.

Reminded myself to practice my meditative breathing. In... out... IN... OUT... do NOT trough your only Data Tablet. You'll break it. You can't REPLACE it. It might FEEL satisfying in the moment... but it's Not Worth It. Just listen to the sound of the running water. The quite of the room. Breathe... unclench your jaw, make your muscles relax, c'mon you can do this.

Fuck, I needed my anti-anxiety meds. But we were starting to ween me off them so I didn't go cold turkey when we ran out. It was fucking with my head. But, hey! At least I wouldn't run the risk of seizures! Or any suicidal ideation! No, just slowly building anxiety, in this, History's Most Stressful Outpost.

The shower shut off behind me. Leaning forward to grab a towel from the stack, I tossed it blindly over my shoulder. Heard him catch it. Wet feet slapping quietly against tiles as he walked forward, drying himself. From the feel of droplets and heat, looming just behind me? He was leaning over my shoulder. The man always did like to damn near boil himself in the shower.

"Still nothing? We've run out of D6 bolts. Not to mention your meds..." He commented, still drying off. I could feel the occasional brush of a towel. A bare arm reached over my shoulder to tap at the screen. "Have you tried...? Shit."

He tried several commands. Leaning over me, damn near cradling the back of my head against his bare chest. But nothing worked. Plopping his chin down on the top of my head, he casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaning his weight on me as he considered the problem. The fans kicked in overhead, dehumidifing and hopefully preventing any sort of alien molds.

I told him to go put on some fuckin pants, before he frozen something he might miss off.

With an amused snort he stood and wandered over to the armor cleaner. Grabbing a new undersuit. Blacks went on, armor freshly de-goo-d, he called that he was presentable once more. I swung my legs over the bench. No need to stand, after all, if we're not leaving yet. Besides, exhaustion was a symptom of the withdrawals. Med changes are a BITCH.

Just as I was about to suggest anough brainstorming session, though?

Our comms both ping. LOUDLY.

That's the emergency signal from the control room. SHIT. I'm up and running before the sound even fades. Headshot right behind me. Not so much because he can't out run me, as he'd stop to grab his weapons as was bringing up the rear. Guarding my back. I prayed, PRAYED, this wasn't an attack. We were supposed to be a fourteen person team.

There were TWO OF US.

We'd never be able to hold the line. Would DIE here. Fuck, I didn't even have time to get that gun! I should have been carrying it. It had been too morbid. But... but...!

I slam into the control room. Headshot a half step behind. The droids frantically churning away. Okay. Okay! What's happening? A ship, big one, in orbit. Oooooh fuck. How Big? I ask. Am informed? "Wipe us from the face of the galaxy" Big. Ha ha! FUCKING FANTASTIC. Great! Merry fucking Christmas to me, I guess! Okay. Okay!

Let's DO this.

Get on the short range ship comm, (never thought I'd USE it but here we fucking ARE) and ask, politely, for them to Fucking Identify Themselves. (Because we have Big Guns and are NOT afraid to use um!)

There is a long tense moment. Then? Oh thank merciful FUCK. A Clone's voice comes on the line. General Spark of the 153rd, in pursuit, they're here to catch traitors and resupply if we need anything. Permission to land a few ships?

I. Could. WEEP.

Yes! Oh, ABSOLUTELY yes! Whoever they're chasing picked a REALLY stupid planet to hide out on, not gonna lie. They'll be picking their traitors up in PIECES. But? Never has a voice been more beautiful. Send Techs! You have FULL use of the outpost General! Welcome!

Setting the droids to navigating the incoming ships safely through landing, I all but DRAG Headshot towards the landing pad. People! Actual, real, PEOPLE! Supplies! Oh thank FUCK! We might be able to figure out what wrong with our relays! Get NEWS! And? That was a CLONE GENERAL!!!

That NEVER happens!

I can practically feel my self vibrating with excitement. Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, as the ships come in for a landing. The officers that roll out are all clones. Their armor more personalized then I've ever seen it. It's BEAUTIFUL. I can't help but lean over and whisper to Headshot, saying as much. Wondering if we can get him some of the supplies they must of used.

You know, assuming he WANTS any of um.

If not? Dibs.

His shoulders are shaking. Why are-? One of the officers thanks me for the compliment. Headshot you SON OF A SUBSTANDARD VAT. Was your SHORT RANGE MIC ON!? Why would you not-!? Bastard! Dead to me! Sorry general, I've never met this man before in my LIFE. Couldn't introduce if I TRIED.

Still! High ranking clones? We love to see it. I am THRILLED. It's been long over due.

Dooooesn't mean we should hang out in Eel Country though. Everybody INSIDE! Let's goooo. Nice and safe, where no ones getting eaten, m'kay? Thank you! And yes! I DO have a list of resupply needs! A LONG list. Starting with my meds, followed by ammo. Though honestly they're tied at first...

As me and the, now rather concerned, medic chat about the collapsing state of our highly rationed medical supplies? Headshot and the General are off to the side... talking about... something. Not sure. Probably not important, or he'd include me. I show the medic our "infirmary" and medical charts. Then get pulled away by the mechanic.

I barely get to SEE Headshot over the next two days. Forget sitting down. The only breaks I get? Meals and lights out. It's kinda awesome. Exhausting, yes, but? After so long isolated? It's a good type of exhausted. The sort where you feel like? For ONCE? You're actually being productive.

There are SO MANY eel burrows to scan? Potential landing sites? And all the MAINTENANCE? Dear merciful FUCK. Literally everything is out of date and cheap as BALLS. Held together with shoe strings and a prayer. But finally! FINALLY! Someone in budgeting GIVES A SHIT!!! Better equipment! Actual medical supplies! Real bedding! And best of ALL?

AIs! As in Actual, information sorting, artificial intelligences!

Because there literally hasn't been a REASON for humanoids to do this job for CENTURIES aside from a misplaced sense of superiority and distrust of droids! All WE need to do? Is stay on base and make sure THEY don't go rogue or break down from the extended isolation! Woooo desk job!

I'm gonna name um. They shall be my BABIES.

That said? None of this? Is very... Off Brand Sith-y. Little too "cares about their fellow man"-ish, you know? And... I'm not stupid. Excited as FUCK, for all the supplies and new changes... but not? Stupid. Blind.

They're keeping me away from the control room.

Keeping me out of important discussions. Sending me off on errands. All of which? SEEM important. ARE important, on the surface, but hide the fact that they are intentionally scheduled? Just as Certain Things Are Discussed. I am being... handled. Like a child. A fool.

When I confront Headshot? In our bunkroom, which we've shared for YEARS at this point. Slept just across from each other, so this lonely hell might feel just a little less empty? So when the dark thoughts creep in? That we might die in this God forsaken place, forgotten by the universe, left to ROT here, and wouldn't it just be easier to-? Someone there, so we won't. So we still matter.

He stands across from me. In OUR place. OUR room.

And FUCKING LIES.

......I guess I know where I stand, huh? And I know... I KNOW, I shouldn't feel betrayed. Clones come first, always. That's the party line. How they survived. I'm a Nat. There was always a power imbalance between us. I would always have been held just that bit further away then one of the brothers. Guess... guess it just finally happened.

I shouldn't feel betrayed. I have no RIGHT to feel betrayed.

But I do.

Headshot looks alarmed, hands twitching at his side, even as he tries to maintain his facade. Nothing's happing. They aren't doing anything. Right. Uh huh. His lie sits between us like a field of broken glass. The words, the arguments, I'd been looking for now seeming so useless. What's the point? He's made his decision.

I feel like crying. Don't want to talk anymore.

Good NIGHT, Headshot.

In the morning, I don't bother asking. I know he notices. Is waiting, restless, for us to continue on as we always have. We always check schedules after all. But what's the point? He'll lie. Instead I pull my armor on and go. Go to your brothers, Headshot. Whatever's happening here, I'm clearly not trusted enough to be part of it.

I just get out of your way.

There's a lot of busy work on my schedule, but honestly? The new AIs are learning to handle it. Instead, I head down to the new supply crates. Grab some bedding. A cart. Then head back. Pack up my shit. I just... can't.

Moving it all to a different bunk, I still have most of the day left to go. Could...? Probably? Check out if we actually DO have space rats? The droids have been reporting dust and noise in the basement, near the food stores. So likely vermin of some kind. Gonna be horrifying to find out what kind of vermin exsist HERE, but better then nothing, I guess.

Grabbing one of the better ration bars to shove in my face on the way to the gun locker, I count it a breakfast. Everyone's busy with a clone only meeting. Good for them, I guess. Not upset with General Spark or his men, I realize, as I check over the gun, no... just Headshot. Because he hurt me.

All he had to say was "I can't tell you." Or "trust me" and I WOULD have. But no. He LIED. To my FACE. And now? Now I feel like I'm waking around with shards of glass where my heart should be. Like I want to hit something. I need a distraction. So down to long term storage I go.

Normally? It's only droids down here. I have to ride a cramped little maintenance elevator lined with blast doors. You know, incase Satan's favorite pet somehow burrows in. The fuckers. It's also freezing. Which, I mean? Great for food storage, not so much for thermal regulation.

The level is eerie quiet.

Which.... huh. That's? Not right.

I reach for my comm before pausing. The hurt in my chest throbbing. I know I shouldn't let it get in the way of professionalism. Of protocol. The rules are there for a reason. To keep us alive and safe. But... God, I don't want to hear his fucking voice right now. I might cry. Say something I don't mean and regret later. You don't LAST long, isolated out in Hellpit, Nowhere, without doing a little soul searching.

Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

My hand drops. It's fine. I'm FINE. There's nothing down here. Or, well, should be nothing down here. We'll find out.

Slowly moving forward, I begin to check the stacks. I don't see any of the droids. Don't HEAR any of them. There should be at least thirty down here. But all I hear? Is the circulation fans. The sound of my foot steps. Something isn't right.

It's a loose, half melted screw in the path that saves me. At first I think it's a bug. But the quite clink when my foot nudges it is unmistakable. It makes me look sideways. There, a cleaning droid, cut down from behind. Tiny little mechanical claws still reaching out to claw itself to safety. Wheels shredded. The marks of a lazer blade are unmistakable.

The hiss-hum even more so.

I BARELY dodge.

Half my gun, simply sheared away. Molten slag dripping from the cut point, the battery already violently destabilizing ask it's nicked. I throw it, before I have the chance to lose a limb. The blast takes out a crate. I'm thrown. Barely roll in time to dodge the downward stab of the hissing blade. A brutal, magic-enhanced, kick sends me flying.

Straight through a stack of ration crates, into a wall mounted medical case. I land among the corpses of the droids. Each, a picture of terror and betrayal. I don't understand what's happening. The blades not red or black! It's blue! That's a not-jedi! Right?! Why are they!? Crates are lifted into the air. Threatening to smash down and bury me alive.

Can't move. Something twisted, badly, in my leg. My chest burning. Something cracked, I could feel it. I'm gonna die. Oh good, I'm gonna DIE.

"Wait! She's not a clone!"

I stare up into the face of the so called "good guys" and feel nothing but terror. Around me, the pieces of thirty droids I'd named and known, dead and dumped like trash upon the ground. Flower with his fussy need to have everything just so, Chirp who loved to sing, Mouse with the wheel I could never get to stop squeeking.

Nothing but Cannon fodder.

They died so afraid.

"Oh! You're right! Sorry! I thought you were one of those 'peating bastards. Are you okay? How long have they held you?" The Knight said. His Apprentice nodding eagerly.

My brain was static. Empty. Held? Slurs? W-what in God's name? I stayed down. Feeling small, lost, and confused. Pain rocking my body from being thrown around. The Apprentice, at least, seemed to pick up on the fact that I had no idea what the fuck they were on about.

"Ah. You don't know what's happened." She said sympathetically. It would be nicer, if she hadn't stood back while I was hurt, before they got around to asking who's side I was on. "The Clones betrayed the Republic. Took it over by force. They've made an empire. They killed the old Chancellor, who was Fallen, but then instead of handing the Republic back to the people? Kept it! Said we couldn't be trusted with it."

The last part was said mockingly. As though everyone and their brother hadn't been aware the Republic was on the brink of collapse. Corruption at an all time high. As though that same Republic hadn't been using the Clones as a SLAVE ARMY.

Slaves do tend to take exception to their chains, historically.

I wasn't really sure why the fuck they were surprised.

"Now come on, you can join the Rebellion. You must know all sort of information, from sitting out here, right? You can-!"

Click.

My helmet went full dark and internal audio only. Which was interesting because I still could barely move. But then bright light and sound, popped and cracked not to far away from my head. A flash grenade. And I finally, FINALLY? Remembered that all standardized armor? Comes with in built life support feeds.

Headshot's mystery meeting was in the command room... where my life sign readout would be. The life support feedback. Real time monitoring from me getting my ass kicked and WHERE.

A hand grabs the drag handle built into each armor, for EXACTLY this reason, and I feel my self pulled out of the danger zone. Can hear heavy, open fire. Shit. There goes our supplies. My helmet clears and I recognize the shoulder I've been careful thrown over. Headshot. He came.

He falls back at some signal I can't see. Straight to the elevator.

The shoulder under me is shaking, just slightly. Adrenaline, fear, anger. I can't tell. But... I... I'm...

"Don't." His voice is rough. Choked out through gritted teeth. His grip just carefully loose enough not to bruise. It seems to be taking everything he has. "You don't get to die. Do you understand me? You're not ALLOWED to die. Not now. Not ever. We didn't survive this long for you to leave me now."

He barely waits long enough for the door to open. Stride smooth and desperate as he races us towards the medic. I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe. Let myself be manhandled. Ha ha... a-at least? I know what he's keeping from me now. So there's that. Ow. Oh god.

The medic has to put me under. Bone fragments.

I drift.

Wake up, bandaged to hell and back, in ou-... in Headshot's bunkroom. Across from the empty bunk that used to be mine. Bed's softer then it should be, still smelling like Headshot. We haven't had the new sheets long enough. Knowing him, he probably stacked um.

The door opens. Headshot stalks in, dragging a cart behind him. His usual "pleasantly amused by life" expression nowhere to be seen. Instead? His expression is... blank. A determined, almost violent, edge to the set of his shoulders.

In silence, I watch as he unloads the cart. Bedding, knickknacks, the various bit of cobbled together wall art. All carefully stuck right back where it had been before. As though he had memorized the proper location of each and every piece. Even as he worked, with his back to me, every line of his body was daring me to be dumb enough to argue.

I didn't want too. I was just... just fucking tired.

Didn't like that we were arguing. If that was even what we were doing.

"Why?" I asked. Summing up everything and distilling it. Why didn't you just fucking TELL me? Why didn't you TRUST me? Why did you think I'd turn on you? Why would you lie? Why were we cut off? Was it REALLY a technical error? Why take the Republic? Why ANY of this?

Just... WHY, Headshot? Please...

"I refuse to lose you. When the war ended, you were going to leave. You said you'd take me with you... but honestly? That was naive. There would be no where safe we could ever go. We all knew that. We all had favorites." He finally stopped organizing my bed. Instead, smoothing down the sheet. Running both hands across it as he stared down, unseeing. "It was all so unorganized. Filthy. They treated us like DIRT. But we were... we ARE better. Designed to be superior. Stronger, smarter, faster. More durable. Why were we listening to them?"

"Then we found out why. Control chips in the brain. The nervous system. Carefully hidden, yes. But not carefully enough. You weren't authorized, you know. I'm glad. If you had been? I'd never have forgiven you. You'd never know you were dead before you died. But... I promise."

"I would have made it fast." His smile was a terrible thing. All broken edges and betrayal. Teeth upon teeth. A mania finally set free.

"Never thought those hypocrites would run here. Expect us to die for them. The happy little slaves. For the glory of THEIR Republic. You'll be okay, Commander. The General's agreed to stay until your back on your feet, just in case."

Headshot slides onto the bunk, sitting at my side, sweetly brushing hair from my face as though he hasn't lost his god damned mind. He's the picture of relief, now that there's no more secrets between us. Now that I'm injured and dependent on his help. Yet... it's teetering.

As though at any minute...

He could slide into some... unhinged state of mind. How LONG has he been on his last thread? Barely holding together? He leans forward and my mind goes utterly still. His lips pressed gently against mine. Chaste. Sweet. A warm, calloused hand, cradling my poor bruised cheek.

"I promise we'll stay together." He whispers against my stunned mouth. Eyes intent and mad, utterly loving. Like a strangers. "I won't let them seperate us. Not for anything. Now that it's done? We can be assigned anywhere. I'll take you with me. War's over, love. We're finally free."

Were we?

[whirlwindimagines]

You've mentioned you have a Vash and oc playlist, but you haven't talked much about your Trigun oc what are they like!? Love your blog!!! <3

Thank you!!!! and oh you guys don't want to hear me ramble about my oc

ANYWAY, let me ramble! Also sorry for how this is written I'm just stupid also under the cut because I ramble lol

Juno Kress (Name meaning: 'Queen of Heaven' and 'Loved')

Something you should know about me is I love tragic characters, and pain because it's cathartic to me! Juno is quiet she's got a quick temper, and can be a little sharp. She's difficult to get along with and doesn't trust people that often. She doesn't like showing her soft side, in fear of being perceived as weak. Juno doesn't talk about herself and keeps things close to her chest. She's running, but won't say from what.

My Ocs are an extension of myself! Juno is angry and hurt by the world desperate for something good, but doesn’t believe she deserves it. Oh no me! lol, remember this post? How I said Vash would like someone soft and kind? Well, that's not Juno! Well, she is a little soft, she's good with children even if she feels like she is not, and she pets every animal she sees and if they ever have to part with a Thomas they had she'll cry. But she has a hard time accepting kindness and doesn't think she deserves it. She's been alone for so long that traveling with someone like Vash is confusing (Slow burn baby!)

They just kinda end up traveling together, Vash tries to ditch her a couple of times becusss of the whole I only put people in danger, but then she eventually tracks him down and tells him to knock it off they are stuck together. They can fight sometimes, Juno is easy to rile up and Vash has found that if the conversation is getting to serious and deep he can just rile her up to deflect lol

They just kinda end up traveling together, Vash tries to ditch her a couple of times becusss of the whole I only put people in danger, but then she eventually tracks him down and tells him to knock it off they are stuck together. They can fight sometimes, Juno is easy to rile up and Vash has found that if the conversation is getting to serious and deep he can just rile her up to deflect lol

Juno is at first put off by his kind and giving nature because tf why is he so nice to her when she’s mean like why? Juno has never met someone who was kind to be kind and not want something in return, she settles down after a while she’s a bit like a cat hard to trust and ready to strike and lash out if cornered.

(Vash took one look at Juno and her sour attitude and was like well SOMEONE has to take care of this feral cat. But they had a pretty instant connection, two lonely souls)

The definition of idiots in love, also big hypocrites like Vash will go days without eating, he sees Juno skip a meal and he loses his mind with worry! Then Juno will hide wounds from him patching them up by herself, but oh if she finds out Vash is hiding an injury from her A LECTURE. They get along like a house on fire, it's actually amazing they get anything done. Once were captured by a bounty hunter and he let them go because he got sick of them arguing. Juno manages to bring out a real side of Vash, she likes pushing his buttons and getting real reactions. They figure it out lol

Juno is very protective! She's strong because she's always had to be, she craves soft moments but doesn't know how to accept them. Lowkey really hates the life she lives, but it is what it is and she figures it out.

Lyrics from the playlist :) I think this might be a good insight into her character, and the pain! lol

"I'll find a new place to be from" / "No, I'm not afraid to disappear" (i know the end - Phoebe Bridgers)

"You're running just to run from me, I don't blame you / Who would wanna be around me?" (Forest Fires - Lauren Aquilina)

"But the story is mine And I wish I could say that it ended just fine We all wanna know how it ends" (Happily Ever After - He is We)

"Haven't I given enough / Always the fool with the slowest heart" (Gilded Lily - Cults)

“And you’ll never see the reasons I had for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel” (Never Love an Anchor - The Crane Wives)

Other songs that i'm too lazy to find the lyrics for, but that scream Juno!

Apollo - Faith Zapata, Fools - Lauren Aquilina, Wings - Birdy, Rescue - Lauren Daigle, Start of Time - Gabrielle Aplin, Prologue - CHase Petra, Boats and Birds - Gregory and the Hawk, On the Edge of a Moment - Mikey Geiger and Best or Worst? - Kathleen Regan

[kingofattolia]

showing up several days late with starbucks only to find out that the damp dishrag whispery mindless villain Thrawn characterization I was worried about manifested exactly

[bardicious]

I'm writing out my superhero comic idea and it's history, and it's like embarrassingly obvious what my favorite shows are. lmao.

[tauremornalome]

i cant with this fucking movie

[heychangbin]

Listen, all i'm saying is SOMEONE, ANYONE, from the rebel alliance could have raided the base on scarif, seen k2 and salvaged his data to import it into a different droid unit, or just saved him.

Alternatively, all droid data should be back up, at leat i would think the rebel alliance WOULD back up all droid data since they, or atleast droids that are taken on missions, are constantly hacking and downloading information from the empire

Like, it's stupid to not have backups...maybe that's why it took the rebels so long to defeat the empire