#and it turns long winded

[wizard-finix]

LU Star Wars AU: Part 2

feeling very validated by the fact that people like this SO LETS CONTINUE

Next up, Four and Wind!

PART 1

Four

A droidsmith and technician by trade, he and his grandfather run a shop dedicated to repairing ships. However, Four is also skilled enough to make his own technology out of parts when he sets his mind to it, and as a result he has expanded his skill set to making and repairing droids, and he's even learned how to forge and repair most kinds of weapons.

When Four was young, he met an older man named Ezlo and learned how to make droids in the brief time Four knew him. Four has made hundreds of tiny miniature droids in the years since, and is very fond of all of them. (Four named his first one EZ-10.) Ezlo also taught Four how to meditate and attune himself to his surroundings, but it wasn't until much later that Four learned that these were actually basic Jedi training techniques— and with that, the fact that Ezlo may have been a Jedi, and that Four himself had the ability to use the Force.

Four has no interest in having a lightsaber, and claims he has better weapons of his own suited to him. Vaati showed up shortly after Ezlo, and he causes problems for him and his grandfather. Four was also friends with Shadow until his death at Vaati’s hands.

Wind

Wind is young, but like Legend he has spent much of his life traveling across the galaxy, and he feels most at home in his small spaceship, the King of Red Lions.

Wind originally got his start as a crewmember of the famous intergalactic pirate Tetra of the Outer Rim territories as a way to rescue his sister Aryll after she was wrongly arrested by the Empire. He then later traveled on Linebeck's ship not long after parting ways with Tetra. Wind found** the Red Lion during his adventures, and has been traveling the galaxy with it since. He's still close friends with Tetra.

Wind is very in tune with the Force, especially spirits, and better learned how to use his abilities when he was traveling with Linebeck. He doesn’t have a saber, but he still has a weapon or two of his own and plenty of tricks up his sleeves.

**(stole it from spice traders)

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[jellydragons]

tetra is having a Day

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

I Thought It Was Obvious: Taking a Closer Look at Tech's Character Development and Journey

I had been debating with myself since the middle of season 3 whether to outline the development of each of the main characters - and then a random online comment (with upvotes, no less) gave me the motivation I needed to do it for Tech 😂 (no but seriously, I thought Tech's development was obvious!) What I had originally planned as being a brief summary rapidly ballooned into a roughly 6500-word essay, so... apologies in advance 😬 I do include pictures here because, well, it's Tech! 😍

Before we begin, a few points about how character development can take place within a story, and the difference between character development versus character arcs.

Sometimes, character development occurs as a character discovers something new or different about themselves – a hidden talent, a new priority, etc. – or follows a certain trajectory to develop toward or away from traits that have been established. This is the most easily recognized type of development and typically directly informs the character’s arc. (Examples: Omega’s compassion is established early on, and we see this continue deepening and developing to where it becomes one of her defining personality traits, strong enough to impact even Crosshair’s trajectory. We also see Omega’s initial uncertainty and naivete fade away into independence and confidence as the show progresses.) Other times, character development is less about the character themselves changing (or not), and more about our (as the audience) understanding of the character changing as new information comes to light or we see the character in various circumstances. This information doesn’t actually change the character’s traits or actions up to that point, but rather adjusts OUR perception of the character. (Example: discovering that Crosshair’s chip had been removed before the season 1 finale. Crosshair is still Crosshair, his actions and traits are exactly the same as they have been presented, but our perception of those actions/traits is altered as we grapple with the knowledge that Crosshair is choosing the Empire of his own accord and we come to realize that some of his previous actions were not influenced by the chip. Another example: Tech himself explains how he processes change and emotions in “The Crossing.” There is no real difference in how he processes these things now compared to before, but our perception of Tech may shift as this element of his personality is granted additional clarity.)

Also note that character development can be distinct from a character arc. There are many well-developed, fleshed-out characters with rich backstories and intricate motivations and desires who don’t have a defined journey within a certain story, usually because they are secondary characters - Phee, Mayday, and even Rex are just a few examples in this particular show taken in isolation from other stories (and yes I’m being super specific here so it's clear why I’m including Rex on this list!). Despite what seems to be popular belief, however, every one of the titular/main characters – including Tech – has both development and an arc (and it’s not a flat arc, either).

So, with all that being said, let's get down to it!

This analysis is split up into three parts. Part 1 covers Tech’s baseline characteristics and personality that are established early on in the show and are reinforced (developed) throughout the story as he consistently leans into those baseline traits. Part 2 dives into how some of Tech’s baseline traits and the beliefs/perceptions that inform those traits subtly shift over the course of the show. Part 3 offers a discussion of how the interplay between some of Tech’s traits remaining stable while others change over time informs his character arc.

Part 1: Characteristics, personality, skills, and relationships that are reinforced and strengthened over the course of the show.

Part 1a. I find it fascinating how thoroughly our initial introductions to Clone Force 99 – an introduction I consider to be comprised of both the Bad Batch story in The Clone Wars and the premiere of Bad Batch – establishes the baseline personalities of each of our main characters. In this section, I first provide examples from the two introductory stories that establish a certain trait, and then provide select examples from the remainder of the show that reiterate these traits as part of Tech’s characterization. (Note: this is not an exhaustive list of examples.)

He has an “exceptional mind,” though he is not infallible.

INTRO: He is the technology/decryption guy, of course. He also fluently pronounces other languages and therefore can act as a translator. He makes split-second calculations to aid Crosshair with identifying targets. While Hunter gently pokes fun at the sheer breadth of what he calls Tech’s “useless information,” Tech does have the information and uses it to the team’s advantage - including knowing the basics of the Poletecs on Skako Minor and (as mentioned above) even being able to fluently pronounce their language. His fascination with recording everything indicates his curiosity and love for learning. He reprograms a battle droid and uses it to the squad’s advantage – and the battle simulation isn’t the first time he has done so. And he almost immediately recognizes several key differences between the operations of the Republic versus the newly-formed Empire.

OTHER: He figures out how to forge chain codes even when the Empire itself has just barely rolled them out. He knows how to scramble a ship’s signature (which is implied even in Rebels to not be common knowledge). He builds a brain scanner from scratch, which is shown to work accurately once Rex shows up and Tech finally has the comparative data needed to finish the scanner. He is the first to infer that Ryloth is under military occupation despite not being a Separatist planet. He researches the irlings after he finally knows what they are (no thanks to Cid) and comes up with a plan to handle them. Not only is he fascinated by the Zillo beast, he also pieces together that the Empire is seeking to control all cloning operations and that the Zillo can be weaponized in the hands of the right scientist. Note that he is not infallible – for example, he can sometimes get thrown off with his plans when he doesn’t have accurate data (such as when he attempts to use clone codes in the installation on Daro), and Crosshair frequently outmaneuvers him since Crosshair knows the squad’s playbook – but his success rate is such that he is not overstating things when he says “I am seldom wrong.”  

He is what some might call “socially awkward,” others might identify as “autistic.”

(I am not autistic myself nor am I a psychologist, so “socially awkward” is the term that came to my mind when first describing Tech after watching his introduction in The Clone Wars.  After reading others’ reasons as to why they see Tech as an autistic-coded character, I am very much inclined to agree with this description as well.)

INTRO: Upon being introduced to new regs, Tech opens with an unsolicited info dump, then spends the majority of the time looking at his data pad. He tries to stop Crosshair and Wrecker from getting into a physical fight with the regs, but is not nearly as successful as Hunter is. He seems slightly uncomfortable when Rex puts a hand on his shoulder. He is brutally honest about his opinions as he outright tells Rex and even Echo that there was some doubt over Echo’s loyalties, and he clearly is bothered by what appears to be most regs’ attitude toward his squad (especially as seen on Kamino), yet he also doesn’t initiate any conflict with the regs. Even with his own squad, with whom he is the most comfortable, he doesn't always pick up on social cues that sometimes inform the flow of conversations - he occasionally leaves out details (“I thought it was obvious”) or perhaps unnecessarily zeroes in on a given topic.

OTHER: Given that we primarily see Tech interact with his own siblings, his behavior around others who are not of his squad stands out. When first introduced to Phee, his pattern remains similar to what it was with the regs on Anaxes: when not startled into prattling on about tangential topics, he stays engrossed in his data pad. Even as his relationship with Phee deepens, there are some circumstances - such as goodbyes - where Tech seems at a total loss as to what to say and do (“Do you require a briefing?”). With Romar, Tech maintains professional detachment until Romar broaches a topic that piques Tech's curiosity. With his own squad, his communication style sometimes leads to exasperation from his brothers (read: Hunter on comms). He also takes Omega at her word when she says she wants to be left alone while they are stuck in the cave, and has to be prodded by Wrecker and Hunter that, actually, he needs to go talk to her. 

He is pragmatic in terms of considering the squad's needs first, and approaches relationships, major events, and decisions from a logical/rational standpoint, taking in different sides and looking at the bigger picture (which makes sense considering how frequently he engages in risk assessment/cost-benefit analysis).

INTRO: While he may not agree with the Empire, he does take into account the official line that Palpatine’s actions were a “defensive measure” as a result of the reported Jedi assassination attempt. When he takes an interest in something/someone, he studies/analyzes them - including Omega (ex: scanning her genetic profile while they are waiting for Echo to recover after the mess hall fight).

OTHER: Not only is he the first to point out the fact that they are deserters after fleeing Kamino (and citing this as a reason to trust Cut), he is also the first to point out that the squad will need to fend for themselves and acquire their own supplies after defecting. When it’s a question over whether to take on a “side quest,” Tech brings up the squad’s physical/material needs for consideration. After Crosshair turns on the squad, Tech doubles down on learning more about the inhibitor chips in order to prove his theories. He disapproves of slavery but also shows equal relief that they will be getting paid for freeing “Muchi.” He describes the war like reciting a textbook definition: “A primary mission objective comprised of battles on various fronts.” He takes the stance on Serreno that, even without the war chest, they “are no worse off than [they] were before.” He explains to Omega that while he does “feel” change, he “cares” about it by contextualizing it as a “fundamental part of life.” He keeps the squad’s safety as his top priority and suggests a “diplomatic approach” to cutting ties with Cid given what she knows about them. He points out to Saw the strategic disadvantages of blowing up Tarkin’s base simply for the sake of, well, sticking it to the Empire.

He is (unintentionally) hilarious with a great sense of dry, blunt, situational humor.

I’m just going to let some of his own words speak for themselves here:

INTRO: “Hopefully not mental, clearly we would never pass that.” “Careful, Wrecker, your programming is kicking in.”

OTHER: “Found her,” he says nonchalantly to Echo, pointing to Omega running across an off-limits dock while in possession of forged chain codes. “It’s not affecting life support. We’re fine.” “That’s not her ugly side?” “Yes, your dangerous and uncontrolled maneuvering is as confusing to them as it is to us.” “It is an unscheduled study break.” “If I am incorrect, we will instantly be sucked out and perish. I am seldom wrong.” “You sound surprised.” “With a few repairs, it will be a slightly operational heap of junk.” “I will note the date and time to commemorate such a momentous occasion.” “The collision alarms haven’t gone off once,” Omega says, to which Tech replies, “Because it shorted out during your last lesson.” “Now that is not what it is called, but I rather like it. I suggest you proceed before I come to my senses.”  

He has physical/warrior skills at least equal to a standard trained Fett clone (and often superior).

Given that Tech easily keeps up with his brothers and matches almost all of their skills (with, perhaps, the exception of Wrecker’s) during every single mission, I’m just pointing out the highlights.

INTRO: He carries Echo up through a ventilation shaft without breaking a sweat. When he’s not holding a data pad with one hand, he’s wielding double blasters.

OTHER: He shows off his piloting skills with the Marauder on Ryloth and Daro, and the transferability of his skills when hijacking and piloting both the speeder and the escape pod in the Coruscant shipyard in “Truth and Consequences.” He shows his stamina and physical strength when fighting off troops on Serreno despite his broken femur (as a physical therapist I cannot overstate how incredible of a feat this is – especially since this wasn’t some hairline fracture, his femur was crushed. Disclaimer: do NOT try this at home; if your femur is broken, please seek immediate medical attention!). He also easily takes over from Wrecker in carrying the ipsium case on Ipsidon. 

He is a calculated risk-taker – a skill he puts to use primarily for the sake of his squad.  

INTRO STORY: Our earliest version of “I thought it was obvious” comes when Tech is asked how the team is supposed to get on the keeradaks, and Tech replies matter-of-factly: “How else? We jump.”

OTHER: He takes the risks of first collapsing the deck to escape Crosshair’s ambush on Bracca, and then blowing up the ion engine for the squad to escape incineration. He wants his (and the squad’s) skills to be utilized to their full potential, but he also wants to know what he’s getting into (as evidenced by his requesting more information from Cid before the events on Safa Toma Speedway, and his frequent comments that Cid rarely gives them complete intel). He enters a riot race – and wins – in order to extricate the squad from being at the mercy of Millegi. On Ipsidon, his primary concern is less about having the ipsium simply to fulfill the mission for Cid and more about making sure they don’t all blow up. And on Eriadu, as always, he does what is required to keep the squad safe, including not hesitating to go out on the rail line to reboot the power, and this before sacrificing himself to give the others the chance to escape.

He is confident in his abilities and remains calm under pressure.

INTRO: “I do have a brilliant idea!” Tech immediately says when Crosshair and Wrecker are dangling off a support beam and they are all surrounded by droids. He smiles a bit as he references his own “exceptional mind.”

OTHER: When asked if he can forge chain codes, Tech replies, “I only learned of them moments ago, but yes.” “Of course I can do it,” he says about scrambling the Marauder’s signature. “I can do both,” he says, cool as a cucumber in the middle of a riot race, in reference to analyzing the track schematics while focusing on not getting injured. Tech himself recognizes this trait, referencing his own “ability to think clearly in stressful situations,” but he isn’t arrogant or condescending in saying so – he’s just right.

He has a moral compass and follows it. And even considering his pragmatism that focuses on the squad, it doesn't take much to nudge him toward choosing “the greater good” that will help others over the course of action that will more likely provide resources for the squad alone.

INTRO: He quickly identifies major differences between the Republic and the new Empire. The “systematic termination of the Jedi” bothers him enough that he shows no hesitation in joining Hunter and the others as they break away from the Empire. He also shows no hesitation in following Hunter’s lead by leaving the insurgents on Onderon alone and then returning for Omega – indeed, he even questions Crosshair for having a problem with it.

OTHER: Tech mentions the squad split from the Empire because of a “fundamental difference in ideology,” and these “fundamental differences” continue to be emphasized as Tech (along with most of his brothers) clearly disapprove of the Empire’s actions on Raxus and Ryloth, Kamino and Kashyyyk, the Empire’s treatment of clones in general, and the tactic that Tech spells out as being similar to Mokko’s operation on Ipsidon – “using power and means as leverage over [their] workers.” One example that illustrates his willingness to be nudged into “the greater good:” when Trace reveals why she and Rafa wanted the tactical droid’s intel, we linger on Tech’s reaction to this information, which to me indicates that Tech is likely the one who convinces Hunter to give the data rod with the droid’s intel to the Martez sisters. And, while Tech always speaks to material practicality when Hunter needs to decide between missions, when the decision is made to do more to help, Tech goes all in.

Above all, Tech loves his family, is loyal to them, and, in his own way, prioritizes them above all else.

This leads us into Part 1b: TECH’S EARLY RELATIONSHIPS

In this section I’ll be summarizing Tech’s relationships with his brothers. Other relationships, including that which he builds with Omega, will be covered in Part 2.

It should come as no surprise that Tech loves his family dearly, and – like any of his brothers – he was willing to lay down his life for the squad from the moment we first met him. He works seamlessly with his squad in The Clone Wars, he instantly jumps in to back up his team during the mess hall fight in “Aftermath,” and just a few examples of the ways he looks out for his family are already outlined above. Let’s take a look at the differences in his relationships with each of his brothers:

Hunter: Clone Force 99 may be deviant and have no qualms about disobeying orders; but when it comes to having Hunter as a leader, Tech is a devoted follower. Given that Tech certainly has a mind and standards of his own, the fact that Tech so loyally follows Hunter’s lead is as much a testament to Hunter’s strong and thoughtful leadership and moral code as it is to Tech’s character. Tech openly shares his opinions, knowledge, and plans with Hunter; but whatever Hunter decides, Tech will follow through. We see this when Tech looks to Hunter for verification before jumping to hyperspace from Bracca and before acting on Senator Singh’s suggestion on Raxus, and when Tech hesitates but still follows Hunter’s order to leave him behind on Daro. Of note, even though the entire squad decides they want to go after the war chest on Serreno, they (and Tech) wait until Hunter gives in before proceeding. And, exasperated though Hunter may sometimes get with Tech, Hunter deeply trusts and relies on his brother, and frequently adopts his intel and plans.

Echo: Tech and Echo strike me as besties who frequently annoy each other (let’s face it, Echo is the one who’s annoyed most of the time). Tech was more than willing to help save Echo’s life (indeed, he ensured it by being the one who safely disconnected Echo from the experimental equipment and carried him through the ventilation shaft), but when it came to Echo participating in combat Tech still had doubts about Echo’s loyalty; however, once Echo had proven himself to be a loyal brother in battle, Tech was open and welcoming of the idea of Echo joining the squad (lest there be any doubt: Tech smiles at Echo after the invitation to join Clone Force 99 is extended. Enough said). When it comes to advising Hunter, Tech and Echo tend to serve as foils: Tech offers the more practical, squad-first side, while Echo pushes for the do more/do better, “greater good” side. The two of them frequently work closely together as their skill sets complement each other; and, while Echo bluntly calls out Tech as much as any of the other members of the squad when a plan goes awry, Echo clearly trusts Tech’s plans and skills. In turn, Tech shares his own viewpoints with Echo and doesn't hesitate to call his brother out either (such as when Echo keeps complaining about helping Senator Singh); and it becomes clear early on that Tech misses Echo after his departure when it's revealed that Tech knows Echo's comm is disabled. 

Wrecker: If we were to select two brothers with seemingly opposite personalities, Tech and Wrecker would be the most obvious choice. To put it in overly simple terms, Tech is the brain of the group, while Wrecker is the heart; and with any other characters this could be a recipe for relationship disaster. However, both brothers love each other enough and are both low-drama enough that the teasing and even straight-up disagreements never escalate to full blown arguments or grudges. Tech may suggest that Wrecker learn the hand signals and reiterate that he himself HAS memorized them, thank you very much; but he’ll quickly follow up with explaining the plan in terms he knows Wrecker will immediately recognize. Wrecker may tease Tech for not knowing the odds of escaping slavers and zone out when Tech attempts to explain himself; but when Tech tells Wrecker to fight a rancor to assert dominance, Wrecker is on it with no questions asked, and when Tech volunteers for a death race, Wrecker will be openly worried about him. The worst we see of them bickering with each other is when Tech is clearly affected by Echo’s departure but trying not to show it and therefore takes his irritation out on Wrecker, and even that friction quickly blows over, as Tech soon accepts some responsibility and Wrecker doesn’t hold a grudge.

Crosshair: we actually don’t get to see much of Tech and Crosshair directly interacting (cue me screaming into the void 😭💔), but the little we do see, along with snippets of information dropped throughout the show, paint a decent picture – mostly of Tech’s views of Crosshair. We see them fight seamlessly as a team in The Clone Wars, with Tech providing direction and targets for Crosshair and (one of my top favorite moments) casually tilting his head for Crosshair to steady the rifle on his shoulder. Months before Tech’s famous line that outright states how well he understands his brother, we see that Tech is the first to suspect something is actually off with Crosshair – long before the others really take note of Crosshair’s odd behavior, Tech is already closely eyeing Crosshair in the barracks – and that it might be due to the “programming;” he is the first to posit the idea the Crosshair’s behavior is due to the inhibitor chip; he respects Crosshair enough as a brother that he also respects Crosshair’s decision to stay with the Empire (even if Tech doesn’t agree with it); and he tells Phee about his absentee brother in a way that, while Crosshair’s “sparkling personality” is apparent, equally obvious is the fact that Tech considers Crosshair a friend/comrade (especially telling, considering that this conversation must have taken place before Tech discovered Crosshair had turned on the Empire). And, while we never get an on-screen depiction of Crosshair’s reaction to Tech’s death nor do we get much closure on this point (cue me screaming into the void again 😭💔😭💔), Crosshair’s infamous line in the finale reads to me as Crosshair desperately missing his brother and feeling his absence, if not also feeling some measure of (undeserved) guilt over Tech’s death. So, Tech and Crosshair worked well together within the group, Tech strove to understand Crosshair’s nature and how it informed his decisions, and Tech loved his brother enough to push for a rescue mission when it became a real possibility that Crosshair might actually accept the squad’s help.  

Part 2: Character perspectives and beliefs that shift over the course of the show.

As shown above, the show primarily leans in on and deepens traits and relationships Tech already has developed; and given that Tech is already the openminded, big-picture, practical, curious and always-learning genius of the squad, it might seem at first glance that the show slacks on letting him develop in the “new traits/hobbies/goals” department. But Tech gets development here as well, primarily through new relationships and situations that provide him with key paradigm shifts. 

First and foremost, development occurs for Tech in the form of a growing relationship with a brand-new member of the team: Omega.

Omega endears herself to Tech as soon as she indicates that she wants to be associated with the group. However, Tech – like the rest of the squad – has to adapt and account for the presence of an untrained child on the team. Nowhere is this clearer than on Saleucami, when Tech’s seemingly seamless plan has clearly NOT factored in “child behavior" (and he still has a bit of a learning curve with children in general as, some time later on Ryloth, he states that Hera’s situation may not be dire as “children often overreact.”) However, Tech does adapt relatively quickly, and soon it is apparent he has adopted the “supportive but not overbearing older brother” role. He aligns more with Echo in recognizing Omega’s skills and putting them to good use while also expanding upon them. He rarely, if ever, voices any opposition to Omega being present on missions; and while he is rather less hyperfocused on Omega’s whereabouts than Hunter or even Echo are (how many times does Echo have to ask Tech “Where’s Omega?”), he still does everything he can to protect her – not least by ensuring she has all the knowledge she needs to excel as a cunning strategist and warrior. All the members of the squad train Omega in different areas, but Tech is Omega’s primary tutor and mentor of general and sundry topics, strict about keeping her focused on her studies but also recognizing when circumstances warrant “unscheduled study breaks” and readily allowing Omega to participate in the action, as well as acknowledging and implementing Omega’s ideas and suggestions during missions.

This new relationship opens the door to a key development for Tech. Omega's "We're more than [soldiers], we're a family" line seems to be the moment that shifts Tech toward considering his roles outside of the soldier paradigm. These clones had been raised as soldiers; it was all they ever knew, it was their very identity. They called each other "brothers," so to them, “squad” must equal “family” - the terms would be synonymous. And even as Tech was the first to state the obvious fact that they were deserters after “Aftermath,” he and the rest of the team continued acting as soldiers and functioning as a military unit – again, this being what they understood as “brothers” and “family.” Omega is the first to make a clear distinction between being a soldier (as part of a squad) and being a member of a family; and while Tech is initially thrown for a loop, I think this statement is what opens his eyes to the possibility that he and his brothers are and can remain a family, have roles and responsibilities, and apply their skills in ways other than being soldiers. And we see this shift come into play later as Tech reveals that he, like Hunter, wants to stay on Pabu to help the people rebuild: Tech, who had earlier indicated that he wanted his skills put to good use, is considering ways he can use his talents in roles outside of being a soldier operating in battles and conflicts. 

Romar plays a small but distinct role in shifting Tech’s perspective on history, culture, and the impact of the war on the citizens of the galaxy. Recall that Tech had described the war to Omega as if reciting an encyclopedia entry, devoid of any thoughts on how the missions and battles may have had a personal/emotional impact, and initially views Romar’s data core as a “Separatist archive.” Romar, however, brings a much more personal approach to the effect of the war: he doesn't seem to care for politics either way, both the Separatist and the Republic (now Imperial) cause has exploited and destroyed Serreno, and he has no interest in treasure but rather in legacy, in the preservation of his culture and history, which existed before the war and - if Romar has anything to say about it - will exist after. And Tech is clearly touched by this perspective: he is thoughtful as he admits that he had never considered Serrenian culture outside of and apart from the Separatist/Republic debate, and the task of preserving even a slice of Serrenian history seems to become personal for him as he resolutely states, “Oh, I can handle that,” in reference to repairing the data core. Tech, who - like all the clones - has a war to thank for his very existence, and who has literally only ever known life within the framework of his role and working relationship with a military - either as a soldier or a deserter or a mercenary - sees the possibilities of life and tradition extending far beyond the narrow confines of war and conflict, thanks to Romar’s influence. 

And then there's Phee, who unwittingly takes the lesson Tech had learned from Romar - history and culture doesn't have to be defined within the Separatist/Republic dichotomy - and expands it by teaching Tech to not brush off discarded and unknown items as “junk,” but rather to look at things with a different perspective and thereby find hidden treasures. Phee’s examination of “junk” materials yields the discovery of a compass that leads Tech and the squad to ancient wonders and new knowledge - and of course Tech’s “interest is certainly piqued.” She continues to gently shift Tech’s perspective by eventually revealing that her actual motivation as a “pirate” truly does lend credence to her being a self-described “liberator of ancient wonders,” and by prodding Tech into putting down the datapad long enough to enjoy a sunset. She goes the furthest in offering Tech and his family a life far separated from being soldiers by introducing them to a community, people who accept them without ultimately demanding that they remain soldiers, a place that welcomes people of all backgrounds and values their history. And, of course, she is the first to open up the possibility for Tech of developing a deep friendship with the distinct potential for romance.

And so, while Tech remains our logical, rational, socially awkward, self-confident, calm, curious, risk-taking warrior, these traits expand to include Tech assimilating and acting on new perspectives, ideas, and possibilities outside the rigid framework of a military identity. 

Part 3: How Tech’s baseline personality and subsequent paradigm shifts inform his character arc.

There are diverse themes running through the show, but one theme stands out as a common thread that not only links Clone Force 99 to all the other clones and their plight, but also serves as the driving force behind the character arcs for most of the titular characters. Each character’s journey (Omega being the one exception) in this story revolves around each of them answering these questions: 

“We were born and bred to be soldiers of the Republic. It is our entire identity, culture, and purpose. So what do we do when the Republic is no more, the war we were born for is over, and we face the possibility of being decommissioned? What are we if we are not soldiers?”

Crosshair’s arc is the most obvious as he goes from clinging so tightly to his identity as a soldier that he is willing to walk away from his family and throw in with the Empire, to eventually giving up the soldier life and retiring with his family on Pabu. Hunter’s and Echo’s arcs almost act as foils to Crosshair’s, but from different approaches: Echo deliberately chooses to stay in the fight and continues soldiering, but for a bigger cause he believes in and is one that aligns more closely with the ideals of the other members of his squad; whereas Hunter finds himself feeling that he needs to remain a soldier to protect his family from the Empire and has a difficult time letting go of that role even as other options open up to him, until the missions tragically lead to the loss of one of his brothers… and then he remains fighting as a soldier only long enough to recover what he can of his family and peripherally help Echo as needed.

Tech’s and Wrecker’s arcs are more subtle than those of their brothers, since these two are very much the “followers” in the group and seem content to continue following Hunter’s lead (especially since they agree with Hunter’s morals) and keep the squad intact as much as possible. But arcs they do have as their development leads to them individually answering the driving question of the show. Tech’s arc, of course, is tragically cut short before all the pieces can come to full fruition, but his trajectory has still taken him to where he is not exactly the same person he was when we first met him, even as his core personality has remained the same.

The squad splits apart in the first episode of the show as each one answers the question of what they will do when the Republic is no more. Tech won’t stay with the Empire since he recognizes early on that it very clearly isn’t the Republic and he doesn’t agree with the direction the Imperial ideology appears to be heading, and with this in mind he unquestioningly backs up Hunter.

Tech, Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo just as quickly find themselves adapting to new responsibilities as the protectors and caregivers of an adolescent clone who, unlike every other clone they have encountered, has not received military training (and doesn’t even know what dirt is). They can no longer “just” be an efficient elite military unit, knowing and trusting each other’s strengths and weaknesses so well that all they have to do is communicate a plan number before charging in with confidence; now, at the same time that they are grappling with Crosshair's departure, they have to learn the extent of Omega’s capabilities and take on the task of teaching and training her to be a part of the team, not only because she wants this, but because it is necessary for her very survival. As noted in previous sections, Tech – along with the others – adjusts relatively quickly and his relationship with Omega blossoms as he embraces his teaching role.

But, while one part of the driving theme - “What do we do when the Republic is no more, the war we were born for is over, and we face the possibility of being decommissioned” - is answered rather quickly, Tech’s answer to the rest of the question – “What are we if we are not soldiers” – is a slow burn. Why? Because being soldiers is so deeply ingrained into their identities that the squad quite literally knows nothing else, and therefore they continue acting and defining themselves relative to the “soldier” framework for months, even years: when they are not soldiers for a cause, they are soldiers who left a cause (deserters), or soldiers for hire (mercenaries). Even the teaching/mentoring role centers on training Omega to be a soldier.

And Tech doesn’t seem to mind sticking to a soldier-like role, even early on in season 2 when he begins to see the possibilities of life outside of being a soldier. This is understandable: the squad is stuck with Cid, who has absolutely no qualms about openly blackmailing them. Besides, Tech’s top priority is and always will be his family, and if continuing to act as a soldier is what keeps them alive and together, then Tech won’t even question it. But when a real opportunity comes to settle down with his squad – his family – into a purpose and place away from the soldier/mercenary life, Tech is one of the first to openly say that he wants to take it. He has been given a different perspective on what “family” can mean, and he quickly sees not only the opportunity for his sister to have friends “her own age and who don’t share her genetic profile,” but also the positive effect this has on her (“I have not heard her laugh like that in some time”). He recognizes that his intelligence and skills can be of value to a community that needs help rebuilding and recovering. He is clearly interested in spending more time with Phee (if anyone doubts this, I invite you to keep track of the number of times Tech smiles specifically at Phee in “Pabu”). After months/years of answering “What are we if we are not soldiers” with a matter-of-fact “The question is moot, because we are soldiers,” Tech now expresses interest in pursuing other roles and purposes on a long-term basis: “I am a soldier, AND I can be more.”

True to form, however, and emphasizing yet again that his family’s safety is Tech’s top priority, when it turns out Crosshair’s chosen path has landed him on the wrong side of the Empire, Tech will push for embarking on another mission for the sake of saving his brother. Tech may otherwise be content staying on Pabu and becoming something more than (or even in addition to) a soldier; but when his family’s wellbeing is on the line, Tech will fight.

And so, while Tech’s character arc is cut short before he can enjoy a life of retirement and newfound purpose with his family and friends on Pabu, the fact remains that Tech did indeed have a character arc in that he had answered the main questions of the show, he had made a choice and was well on his way to following through on that decision. The only consideration that pushed him back into the fight was the chance to bring Crosshair home.

I have said before that I don't consider Tech’s sacrifice as a defining part of his character arc, since this seems to imply that self-sacrifice was a trait Tech had ever struggled with and/or needed to develop. This implication, of course, is patently incorrect: Tech has demonstrated time and again that he will put himself at immense risk – including risk of death – to save his squad (indeed, the same could be said for every one of the Bad Batch members). What I will say here in reference to Tech’s sacrifice on Eriadu is that he died* to fulfill what he had already proven to be his first priority: save his family.

He died*, NOT because he couldn’t stop being a soldier – he had already decided he could be more than just a soldier, that was part of his arc – but because he was and always would be a brother.

*I put the asterisk by the word “died” because I will never stop holding out hope that someone of influence at Lucasfilm will take pity on us poor “please for the love of everything good in this world let Tech live!” souls and allow Tech to be brought back.

^(Also I'm including two more images because I can and because it's Tech 😍)

In summary: Tech’s character development primarily consists of the show re-emphasizing and bolstering his core character traits and relationships, while also subtly expanding his perspective of life outside of war and identity beyond being a soldier. To that end, Tech’s character arc involved him not only splitting from the Empire and becoming a devoted brother and teacher to Omega, but also ultimately deciding to pursue interests, roles, and relationships in addition to his soldier identity.

[hypogryffin]

Your art is so flipping pretty, and I just adore how you style all of the persona characters! But my question is, are there any other fandoms/works of art that you want to post or start rambling about? I hope you have a lovely day! (o゜▽゜)o☆

you can have those?

[mantisgodsdomain]

More notes for Roach conlanging. Roach has grammatical gender, in which only Male, Female, and Object are grammatical genders, whereas Worker uses feminine grammar, Queen and King use a slight variant on feminine grammar, and Drone, and Queen-Alate use masculine grammar. This is because King is derived from Queen, due to their similar positions in a colony, and Queen-Alate is derived from Drone, as both are forms of alate.

Queen is an alteration of feminine grammar that functionally just adds a handful of extra syllables to it, and King is an offsprout of Queen that uses the same grammar with different pronouns. Queen-Alate, despite the name, is derived from Drone, as they are both for referring to different types of alate ant.

Most Roach dialects are intelligible to speakers of Snakemouth Den Cordyceps Roach, but Snakemouth Den Cordyceps Roach is not entirely intelligable to speakers of Roach dialects due to a mix of the excessively specialized vocabulary caused by the specific needs of its speakers, the fact that its speakers do not necessarily have Roach mouthparts and thus may not pronounce syllables in a similar way, and due to the fact that Inanimate Object is a full grammatical gender that does not exist in any other dialect of roach and replaces a decent chunk of terminology for things that previously had Other Words For Them.

[kaahmbem]

THANK YOU FOR THE CIRSCYLLA LOVE EVERYONE HERE'S MORE SCYLLA SKETCHES I DID IN A LECTURE... my favorite nymph ever

[bbinkus11]

I had a thought.

I was replaying Botw the other day, and I was running around the map doing stuff. Especially regions like Lanayru, Eldin, Tabantha, and Gerudo. Anyways, I was reading all the signs and stuff. And I noticed they were all in different font, not even different font, but different languages! So this makes me think, can Wild speak and read multiple languages? Can multiple members of the Chain speak and read different languages? I’ve only played BotW, TotK, AoC, SkSw, and some of OoT, so I’m not entirely sure if there are different languages in the different regions there.

I’m aware Legend has been shoved into many headcannons about him knowing various languages, but can others? Would they be able to speak to each other in said languages? Are the languages different in each era? I dunno.

[cherryflavoredbutch]

you know i just typed a paragraph about it and then deleted it but in far fewer words I fucking hate the trope of women characters in traditional fantasy who are clearly intended to be empowering to SOME members of the audience by merit of the fact that they wield some secondhand power over like magic or dragons or a politician or something all while still embodying this sexy nonthreatening mystically-beautiful divine femininity. so the writer has fulfilled their feminism quota by inventing a woman whose entire character could easily be eclipsed in artistic merit by rachel platten's hit single fight song to the exact same emotional effect, and much of their audience is satisfied by this, so we as the dissatisfied reader have no hope in hell of getting to take in a woman character who can heft a sword or be big and muscular or god forbid do anything interesting with her gender. and trans characters of any kind? FORGET about it. not gonna happen. this fantasy is someone else's fantasy and it won't let you forget it.

[youling-the-ghost]

I like to think that there was a feasible for Geoff to stay at the rocks with Persephone, either by turning him into a sea creature of some sort or by just having him live away from the other sirens, but Persephone sent him away because she felt like she was betraying her sisters by being in love with a human.

But she thinks of Geoff everyday after he leaves, and suddenly the rocks feel empty and lifeless without his presence. The other sirens still ostracise her for healing Geoff in the first place, and it makes Persephone realise that trying to gain her sisters' approval was a fruitless endeavour. The regret of sending Geoff away washes over her; it's too late, Geoff is already gone, and all she can do is sing at the rocks, perpetually waiting and hoping that the man she loves would come back one day.

[celestialdaily]

The celestial object of the day is IGR J17091-3624!

This black hole has in its accretion disk the fastest winds ever discovered, at 32 million km/h (20 million miles per hour) or 3% of the speed of light. And just like the black hole GRS 1915+105, it also has X-ray variability patterns or 'heartbeats.' While fainter than the ones of GRS 1915+105, IGR J17091's are faster!

[nerosdayinanime]

midnight city(M83)

[mondaymelon]

ignore the fact i disappeared that was simple winter hibernation ( still sick and coughing out my lungs btw )

for a basically nonexistent context it’s currently 1:50 am my paper is literally just on my mattress hello hard surface who and this is the most abhorrent lighting and i COOKED (dubious) 🔥🔥🔥‼️🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🌶️🌶️✨🌶️😋😋🌶️😋😋🥺🥺💖💖✨✨

one of my ocs grgrggrjekslalksj I need to talk about them more on here nyways yeah uhm bye read the tags thanks

[myothertardisisonthemun]

Last year, I had the idea to make a Santa Sleigh I could fly beneath my drone. This ended up not happening as my computer was away for repairs. This year, I don't have that problem.

Here's the cad model, drawn up based on some clip art I found.

Everything needs to be outlines to minimise air resistance, and keep it as light as possible.

As you can see, this Santa is being made with an Australian twist.

Here's the Santa in print:

And the first "Boomer" (Kangaroo)

Several hours of printing later, and it was time to stick it together. Wanting strength, I used skewers, even though they were a little thicker than I originally planed for.

I'm balancing the roos on the back, to make sure

It must be wide enough to not confuse the drone's downward sensor.

The morning of Christmas Eve, I awoke to this weather forecast.

I proceeded with final assembly anyway. There were gaps in the clouds, it was only bucketing down some of the time.

The strings need to be equidistant from the balance point, and all the same length.

Launch has to be done very carefully. Going to have to fly very smoothly to prevent twisting.

It flies!

I took it down to the park.

Here is the view from the air:

Maybe if the weather holds, there'll be people in the park to see it.

Merry Christmas!

[spearxwind]

Oof I'm kinda scared to ask... Why do you not want to be an artist professionally?

Its just like, incredibly miserable in my experience.

Everyone wants their dream job of being paid to draw whatever the hell they want but 99% of the time you are hired and tasked to draw things that you don't have a lot of interest in, professionally speaking, and constantly getting your artistic efforts undermined by the rest of the team (this is esp. true in the videogame industry) artists always try to push for better designs and get their takes watered down for the sake of general public pleasing. Also you don't have a security blanket unless you're under long term contract. Most freelancers live gig to gig with the fear of not being able to support themselves if they don't take a job to take a break. Videogame and movie jobs arent stable because companies never keep the art teams, they are laid off and rehired whenever there is a new project

During my major, I drew nonstop for 4 years for class. Not always things I enjoyed, but also not always things I didnt like. In fact I enjoyed my major immensely! It was so fun. But the burnout is very, very real, and the workload was similar (even inferior to) regular art jobs. What happens if you like to draw in your off time? You spend your days making and pumping out art nonstop for hours, and then on your free time breaks you draw some more? I personally couldn't do it. I just wanted to do other things

And like.... I spent the first three years being told by teachers (people with stable, contract based jobs) how cool of a job it is to do art, and then the last year getting grilled on how insanely hard it is to make it out there. If you don't have connections, money, an audience, a studio, it's actually impossible. You need to be your own lawyer, abide by the very strict self employment rules that take a severe chunk out of your earnings. Do all of your finance/schedule/marketing etc while on top of that constantly producing work (I know there's people who can do it but, personally, I cannot) I really admire the people who were able to build themselves up as artists from the ground like this (because its definitely possible, just insanely hard)

Also, making something you love into your job ends up being miserable too. I experienced this with patreon, which I posted to as like a chill thing and it just got increasingly hard to make content for it or just post in general, even drawing my own ocs and sharing stuff about them started to feel like a chore.

Maybe it's just me though, this has just been my personal experience but yeah in general I realized I am immensely happier just keeping art as a hobby or its gonna suck my soul out (Since I already experienced it)

I don't mean to discourage anyone, I think the world in general needs more artists. But for that we would need to actually be taken seriously and valued, which sadly we are not, at all. And if there's anyone reading that is considering art as a job: it is absolutely grueling. It's not an easy job. Even if you desperately love art it can suck the life out of you and the joy for what you do

(As an extra sidenote. Artists are usually exploited using this mentality as well. That they are supposed to love their job. So they expect you to work your wrists off "For the passion". Dont fall victim to it)