#best nerf blasters

[hazelplaysgames]

clash... well, blasters on the whole are a bit on the weak side, especially for single target issues, but the blast radius means i just think directs need to hit a bit harder most often. in this case though, straight 100 doesn't feel right at all, and already doing 85 means buffing it to 90 doesn't really do... much. like, ooh, one hit less for Drizzlers? huge, game changing, am i right? i would like it to be buffed, but i can't really justify doing that where it matters most.

i think we'd get more out of buffing... honestly, every other blaster, except maybe the S-blast, that one feels the best of the lot.

[januaryembrs]

HOT UNDER THE HELMET | Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Request: Hi, would you mind writing for Poe Dameron where Poe accidentally injures the reader (whose a mechanic), which is how they meet for the first time. And would you mind using the dialogue prompt “Oh, oh my god! It was an accident! I’m so sorry!”? 

Description: Poe finds out the hard way the best mechanic in the resistance is also most beautiful woman he’s ever seen; too bad you’re so hot headed. 

word count: 1.5k

trigger warnings: sexism, fire, women in stem facing problems even in space (because ofcourse they do).

main masterlist

As much as you would love to admit times of war made people more benevolent towards each other, you’d be dead wrong. Not only had you been one of the only females in the resistance who knew her way around a wrench, but as it also turned out, not even the risk of dying could pull a males head out of his arse. 

You heard snickering before you saw them. The other three mechanics in your squadron crowded around a starfighter, laughing to themselves as they watched you tinker with a leaky engine, your body strewn across a lying board as you worked above yourself, your tools against your foot. 

Rolling out from underneath the ship, you paid them no mind as you searched for a screwdriver small enough to fit the flathead you needed removing. Scanning your work area, that you were proud to say you kept much neater than the blaster brained males you shared a space with, your brow furrowed when you saw your equipment nowhere to be seen. 

“Looking for something?” You heard Zagg, one of the males, say, and you felt a rage boil up inside you at the smug look on their faces as you regarded them with a sweaty, pissed off expression. 

“Where’d you boneheads put it?” You snapped, hauling yourself to your feet as you approached them hotly, your scowl only growing as they burst out laughing, “Real mature. The galaxy is going to bantha fodder, and you guys are hiding my tools,”

“You know, if you need help from someone who knows what they’re doing, you could just ask,” The tallest of the trio, Bran, goaded you, a smarmy smile on his face as he watched your cheeks puff with exhaustion, whirling around to charge up to him, no matter if you did have to turn your neck upwards to confront the pig of a male. 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, instead of going after little girls who make you look like rookies,” You hissed, eying up the other two who seemed to exchange a sneer, “Leia chose me herself, handpicked me from the academy. You three nerf herders got through on sheer size alone, and it’s obvious you feel the need to compensate everywhere else possible,” 

You sauntered away, back towards the rear of the workshop where spare apparatus was kept, banging around the drawers with a foul mood, muttering about how useless the opposite sex was in times of crisis. 

As if he had heard the call of a siren, Poe strolled into the hangar, fully suited with his helmet under his arm, an all too cheery smile on his face for the belly of the beast he was unknowingly heading straight for. 

Catching the eye of one of the mechanics, a freakishly tall man that seemed to be chatting to the other two as they stood around an X-wing with a huge hole ripped into the body of it, he watched the worker drop his bitter face and regard him with raised eyebrows when he saw the chirpy pilot approach.

“General,” He nodded respectfully, though there was not a single trace of regard on his face. “You’ve come for your ship?”

“Leia said you had your best guy on it?” He said, almost missing the way the three of them nodded hesitantly, “She said it should be ready today,”

“Right this way, General Dameron,” The shorter, beefy one said, leading him away to a pristine looking starfighter, by far in the best shape he could see it being without it being brand new. He thought he caught a snigger behind him as the mechanic, whose oiled badge read as Kripply, took him over to the ship, “Why don’t you give her a whirl? As you said, we had our very best on the case,” 

Poe looked at him with an odd mix of a smile and wariness as he couldn’t miss the devilish excitement the man looked at him with. Had he sat in paint again, he wondered. Finn had had a field day walking him around the entire compound with two white ass cheek marks on his suit, he wouldn’t put it past his co-pilot to try his luck again seeing as Poe had been the one to win at cards last night and had not so graciously rubbed his credits in the man’s face. 

“Sure, let’s give this baby a whirl,” He said after a moment, his hair falling all over the place as he shoved his helmet over his thick, sable locks. 

Maybe he had a case of bedhead, he wondered. Afterall, he’d not exactly been sober as he’d stumbled back to his room last night, his winnings buying him round after round of smuggled Corellian Whiskey. 

He hopped up onto the wing, yanking himself into the cockpit that had been cleaned thoroughly, and he didn’t know why he ever doubted his repair team if this was the condition they left their vehicles in. The engine hummed to life as he flicked the tiny lever, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the oddly floral smell inside the small flight deck, and he wondered if they had gone so far as to spray freshener in there. 

You had found a spare tightener that would fit the screw, the last thing that needed fastening up before the engine should be good to run, Leia’s general would be by any second now. 

Rolling back under the vehicle, you tuned out the way Zagg cackled over the sound of an engine springing to life, you assumed their own, focusing on the tiny panel you had yet to cover the machinery with to protect the pilot from any stray blaster fire cutting the engine. 

But no sooner had you settled on your back beneath the jet, your hand reaching up for the metal sheet, you heard the familiar rumble of oil being fired through the motor, the drums whirling as the ignition started and a short blast of heat hit you in the face. 

You blanched as you knew that meant, knew what would come shooting out any second now. Heat always got kicked out of the engine first, the left over energy dishcharged out of the bottom grate. Because then came the fire as it sprung to life.

Your hand came up before you could think through what you were doing, the hard work you were unravelling in the interest of keeping your face intact, your brain from turning to crispy mush, as you yanked the oil pipe from where you’d connected it to the drum, the thick black liquid pouring over your entire body as you stumbled from out beneath the plane, just incase your plan hadn’t worked. 

You heard the engine cut, the sound of the cockpit sliding open as someone cursed from above, and you were filled with a new wave of rage as two feet jumped from the wing above you, turning to the three men who watched with entertained chuckles. 

“What happened, I thought you said-” Poe had started chewing out the males who didn’t seem to care all too much about the fact the jet had broken down, when he felt two hands shove him from behind, and he spun on his heel with annoyance. 

His face dropped entirely when he saw you, covered head to toe in a thick, gunky oil, your nostrils flaring as you glared at him with a heat he had yet to see from a woman before.

Usually women were so receptive to his charming good looks. Not this one it seemed. 

“What the kriff was that, man,”  You yelled, shoving his chest again with your slimy hands, and he quickly put it together what had been the problem. 

“What that me?” His brows flew into his hair line as you looked at him like he’d just learned there were stars in the sky, “Oh, maker! It was an accident! I’m so sorry!”  

“Oh he’s sorry. Thank goodness he’s sorry,” You threw your arms up, wiping the oil away from your eyes with slippy hands, and Poe had no idea what to say for the best. 

Though, he supposed telling you you were by far the prettiest woman he’d seen in moons was not the correct thing to go for, despite the fact it was the first thing he’d thought. 

“I’m a decorated pilot, I would never intentionally-” He spluttered, but you had already turned away, heading towards a small work bench where a bunch of old, dirty rags lay, supposedly for hands only. 

“You can decorate my ass, general. You’re waiting another week for that plane,” You seethed, barely regarding him over your shoulder. 

And he stood there, speechless, because what was he supposed to say. No one had ever spoken down to him like that, not since he’d grown into his good looks and had women falling at his feet to be near him. Certainly not since he’d become leader. 

You huffed past him, as he was rooted to the spot, jaw hung slack as you left the workshop, cursing him out clearly to yourself, and it was only then that he turned to the other three males who had watched him get his ass served to him with another round of sniggers. “Who in the maker was she?”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

-

Ask to be added to my Leon taglist!

[classicanalyzer]

LEGO Star Wars Rebuild The Galaxy Thoughts

"Nothing makes sense, and everything's mixed up, and that's okay. Things fall apart, but maybe they can come back together better than before." Sig Greebling

Rebuild The Galaxy is my favorite out of all the D+ LEGO SW specials. I really love the connections to LEGO and SW, including the previous LEGO SW shows, especially Freemaker Adventures. Michael Kramer did an amazing job with the soundtrack, Sig's and Yesi's themes were well-composed.

Part I

"For someone who spends all his time telling stories about heroes, you have no idea how to be one. Maybe that's why you like history so much. It's over and done, but your life isn't. There's so much ahead of you if you'd just try, but you're afraid." Dev Greebling

Sig Greebling is such a cool name. I really love how he's a literal in-universe SW fan, yet someone who actually wants to be normal despite his Force sensitivity. I find it funny he's a literal Nerf herder. I do emphasize of how he wanted to avoid all the expectations if people know he's Force-sensitive.

I love the reference to Wookiees originally being a part of RotJ before being replaced with Ewoks.

Fennesa is a cool-looking world. Yesi Scala is another cool name (I get reminded of Scala Ad Caleum from KH haha). It's too bad Sig's indecisiveness and inability to step out of his comfort zone translates to his social life, even his crush. The background painting showing the sunset is so beautiful.

I really like how the Ackbar Troopers are the Clones in this universe. They must have chosen Ackbar as the main host due to his skills since he was a skilled warrior and leader, but definitely also for the memes out of universe. I also love how Phase I was used because the Kaminionans designed the Phase I suit based on aquatic species like themselves and would fit the Mon Calamari Clones.

The fighting animation and choreography for Yesi's fight against the Ackbar Troopers are so well animated. I laughed seeing that one Ackbar Trooper shooting with two blasters. I can see why Sig likes Yesi. Also ooff, Yesi lost her father in this timeline to the Empire. You can feel the bleak state of this galaxy under this Empire. At least, Yesi's desire to fly among the stars and not live in a backwater world is still there. I like how Sig also mentioned how Rancors are actually misunderstood intelligent creatures.

Double ooff, Sig's brother is now Darth Devastator "Dev". At least we finally get our first on-screen appearance of Jedi Bob!

Part II

"Being a hero is easier when you don't know the cost...Sig, the Force doesn't work that way. The dark side is loud and obvious like a big, mean Gamorrean kicking you in the head over and over. But the light side, the light side of the Force is just a whisper in the back of your mind." Bobolian Afol "Jedi Bob"

Darth Rey as Dev's apprentice feels so wrong about the intentional nature of aspects of this new universe. Jedi Bob!...or rather Bobolian Afol lmao (I also love how the markings seem a bit faded which signals his age). I love this cynical Jedi who sucks at fighting but is amazing at the Force...which is what a true Jedi should specialize in.

FREEMAKER LORE! THE FORCE BUILDERS ARE BACK! I love seeing them once again and hearing Bob recap them feels cathartic.

Ewok Bounty Hunters is one thing but bounty hunter C-3PO channeling his Triple 0 and HK-47 vibes in a Naboo Royal Cruiser with gold plating feels so right yet so wrong in the best ways possible. Yesi really has a lot of baggage with her wanting to prove herself and redeem herself for accidentally getting a rebel base captured.

Mos Eisley Marina made me die on the inside lmao. Tatooine isn't boring anymore lmao. I do love how this is a nod to how the BoBF and Legends mention Tatooine being once covered with oceans before becoming a desert world.

Like father like son indeed, however, even Anakin wouldn't go that far to cheat. I do love how Luke and Anakin use the same Podracer. Poor Max Rebo.

I love how Maul in this galaxy is much more relaxed and happy. At least, in this galaxy, Maul gets to live his life without the tragedies in his main galaxy life.

I love the implication that Nubs is well-known in the main galaxy that Sig knows about him. I'm incredibly confident that Darth Hammerhead is Rusty. Even in another universe, nobody remembers his name lmao.

That brief Duel of the Fates theme playing when Darth Jar Jar appeared was so hype and chilling. His line goes unironically hard.

Part III

"I know you can't restore a galaxy once it's gone because I tried to restore my own, and I failed. In the galaxy I'm from, things were simpler. I was a Padawan on Alistan Nor, learning the secrets of Force Building. I'd heard rumors about the Cornerstone. The more I read, the more obsessed I became. Was it possible to remake an entire galaxy? I needed to know the truth. My Masters forbid me from searching for the Cornerstone, but I wasn't exactly good at following orders. There were so many rules. I just wanted to do things my own way. I thought I could control the Cornerstone. I never thought -- When I left that temple, everything was different. My galaxy was gone, Sig. And yours had just been born." Bobolian Afol "Jedi Bob"

We truly reached the pinnacle of miniaturized Death Star tech with the Dark Falcon lmao.

Darth Jar Jar definitely isn't dead and I love what little time we had with him.

I love the lights looking like the Binary Sun and the music playing as Luke looks towards them.

I love how Palpatine in this universe is a cynic who gave up on fighting. I like that fascinating take on this alternate Palpatine. The new Jedi Council (I like the faded and scratched markings similar to Jedi Bob signals their age and tiredness of a seemingly hopeless war) is insane with Jedi Vader (I love that this is a SW Infinities comic reference, it felt cathartic to see it realized in visual media), Dooku, Cad Bane, Jannah, Lobot, IG-88(?), and even Jabba. I really love that Jannah has more to do here including her actress returning to voice her.

Greedo being the Han of this universe was so funny. He even has the Rodian ears for his Slave I Firespray ship lmao.

I love how Yesi recreates the energy in TFA when she does smth incredibly insane with Greedo's ship. Sig saying I do feels like his and Yesi's "I know" moment. And a Star Trous mention. I also feel like Yesi's point of how you fix the mistake got to Jedi Bob and got to him into revealing the truth. I love how Grevious is one of the rebels in this universe.

Alistan Nor!!! THAT'S THE FORCE BUILDER WORLD AND IT WAS MENTIONED IN FREEMAKER ADVENTURES.

Damn, this Han really became just like his mentor in the old universe. A true scoundrel.

God that twist of the old universe never coming back is gut-wrenching...especially since Jedi Bob is the only survivor of his old universe. The story of Jedi Bob is beyond tragic. One simple curiosity into the cornerstone left him the only survivor. Spending all that time alone in the Temple to make sure it doesn't happen again...only for it to happen again. I also really love how the simple galaxy is represented by 4:3 aspect ratio and all LEGO figures are the classic yellow designs.

WHEN SERVO WAS DESTROYED, I FELT MY HEART BREAKING APART. God that was heartbreaking to see, just like many heroes before him in his stories, to save his friends Sig gave himself up.

Part IV

"The tales of my galaxy. The tales of people like Dev. My Dev. I don't wanna forget them. They matter." Sig Greebling

God the intro with the sad music and Servo shutting down just hurts me in ways I cannot comprehend. The collapsing logo really showcases we're in the endgame.

I love how Yoda is voiced by his Young Jedi Adventure VA in this show. It is heartbreaking to see Ian Han hate Yoda given the very first major LEGO SW special (The Padawan Menace was one of my first non-SW movie experiences in my childhood).

Even if Dev is mentally messed up, I really like how he came around to having a brother and want to be brothers. I like how Sig realizes this is all a fantasy of a galaxy he can never restore. He fights to save this galaxy now.

I'm happy Tico got to a substantial role in this show alongside Rey. Reusing the Nobody line toward Darth Rey was pretty cruel.

The space battle was shot very well and I love the designs of the Calamari Destroyers.

Dev's breakdown was pretty disturbing to see and how he took the rage and lack of happiness in his life to put his idea of "order" and to take control of his life. Especially how he sees himself as beyond redemption and the point of no return.

The quote I used for the introduction quote is beautifully anti-nihilist.

The fight is so well choreographed and so peak, especially when the brief moment the windows were destroyed and the energy shield was activated. The fact the Nerf herder stick came back to be a major turning point in the fight against Dev is great. It was heartbreaking and I got a bit misty-eyed to see Dev ultimately decide to remain evil.

My heart repaired itself as Servo was reconstructed. The old galaxy is gone but the stories will live on. And leave it for Servo to interrupt Sig and Yesi's tender moment haha.

The ending shot with the new crew really felt like the passing of the torch between the Freemaker Adventures to Rebuild the Galaxy. I hope we get to see the Freemaker cast, especially the Freemaker family on Alistan Nor.

Also, The Landolorian and Evil Grogu has been so hyped as the sequel hook alongside Darth Rey and Tico being in charge of the Empire.

This is such a great show and I can't wait to see more LEGO SW stories set in this universe.

I love the score by Kramer who is also responsible for Ninjago’s score (alongside Jay Vincent):

[iron-strangers]

tell us moooore about the mudhorn babies!!!

Yes! Yesyesyesyes, ask me more about the babies!💞

The babies are a part of my Dad!Mand'alor!Din x Jedi!Reader series called Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Grogu no longer hangs in Din's bag/carrier, he's now riding with Mirshka in her little backpack.

Grogu is now enrolled in a space kindergarten and the fridge is full of the drawings he brings home from school.

He's also been terrorizing the frog population in the pond behind their home.

Grogu's first word is buir and Din isn't shy to admit that he BAWLED.

The kids can see the old Mand’alor's force ghosts. Aranar is Jaster Mereel's favorite, Mirshka is Tarre Vizsla's.

Aranar once stole the darksaber and he messed up the ignition, cutting half of his hair. He wears helmets everywhere for two weeks.

Just like Din, Aranar is not painting his armor.

Mirshka wants a vod'ika for her life day present (Din is encouraging her).

She wants her vod'ika to be called tra'cyuur.

"No, Din, I don't care if she sulks, we're not naming our baby 'blaster'."

You and Din finally settled on Kote, and Kote is perfect. Kote is a sweet baby who can never do wrong.

Aranar is three years older than Mirshka. Mirshka is two years older than Kote.

The Djarin genes are way too strong and the babies looks exactly like their buir.

Aranar always wins the sword-fight sparring sessions.

Mirshka is very strong in the living force, she even befriended the Mythosaur under the Living Waters of Mandalore.

Kote is the best shooter out of the four kids. Aranar has known no peace since his brother started shooting nerf-gun around the house.

Boba teaches Aranar to swear. Aranar then teaches Mirshka. Rid'ika threatens everyone that she will go dark if Kote started to swear too.

Din is Mirshka's favorite person in the whole galaxy.

Rid'ika is Aranar's.

Kote and Grogu baby talks to each other. No one knows what they're talking about, yet the two babies are giggling like a couple of maniacs.

Fenn'buir would steal the kids away and return them all muddy and smelly, much to your chagrin. At least they always sleep soundly after roughhousing with their ba'buir (grandfather).

One time, Din finally said "fuck this" and gave the darksaber to an eight years old Aranar. The boy led the court for one day (with your guidance, of course) while Din played hooky and took the rest of the kids flying all over Mandalore.

Aranar gave the council a fourty five minutes nap break. With just one day of ruling, Aranar is now known as Mand’alor the Kriffing Best.

Din was then banished to the couch for two days.

Thank you for this anon, this is the most fun I've had since writing this series. I hope you love the kids! 💞

Questions and requests are always open!

[toxicmetalblasttro]

IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!

I had started this as a sketch last year, built now that I've actually finished it I'm rather happy with the results cause art block is a bitchy toe stomper.

Art bellow cut ↓↓↓

Although I had originally thought of them as a simple oc, I realize this was one of my first ocs that has now kinda developed into a self insert oc and I'm okay with that!! I'm happy I've come this far and still have a lot farther to go, but I'm proud of myself.

I really hope Tumblr hasn't nerfed the quality :__-(

(*＾＾*)//

Also a bit of ranting!!!

Her name, famously, is Toxicblast, not as in she has a snarky attitude or degrading acids she shoots out of blasters or whatever, although a cool idea, it's more that in pre-war times, she joined the Autobots as a speed/stealth patrols and assist teams, stuff like that, and when the decepticons began using toxic, metal degrading fluids and gas, (in my au) Wheeljack and many other of the Autobot scientists and doctors rushed to create anti degrading metals and materials to immune themselves from the defensive and offensive tactics, she was the first to step up for testing, her metals replaced carefully, both inside and out with the reinforced new materials and such, after she had recovered from her surgery, she would undergo many tests, such as sitting in a room with the toxic gass, her systems filtering the gass into fresh, or less damaging levels of degrational air, or drink the toxic liquids, once she was finally over with and confirmed the metals worked, she was set free with a new name, Toxicblast.

She had been a less famous racer before the war, and had even met Blurr and plenty of other racers, although just as she had been getting to the upper levels and succeeding in her career, the war started and all racing had been shut to a stop, with nothing left asides from her possessions and her skills, she decided joining the Autobots would be the best option for her.

Thanks for reading my rambles!!!

♥︎

[theneptuneflytrap]

In the wake of the new Marvel 6v6 game, I propose a Transformers 6v6 game where:

Transformation is a mechanic that has a timer and a cool-down

Soundwave and Blaster give their team great buffs when in alt mode but are easy to attack

Cassettes are individual playable characters

R&F and R&E have to be played together, like the tag-team mechanic that the ice climbers have in smash bros

The map is interactable, for example, there are movable platforms to get to high-up areas but you need someone who can hack them to bring them down (Scrounge, etc.) OR either a) a flying ability (flying alt-modes, Lazerbeak, etc.), b) an ability to climb (Ravage, Carnivac, etc), or c) someone who can launch (Windcharger), or otherwise carry (Cosmos, alt-mode) you up there.

Cosmos can also pick up enemies and drop them from high heights to do damage.

Pretenders work exactly the same as they do in cannon. They're very strong and you can separate them from the shell to do extra damage but you take damage if the shell does.

ppl with gun alt-modes have a very quick timer so you have to turn into alt-mode shoot and turn back but the shot does a ton of damage.

Sixshots robot mode is very weak in terms of abilities pretty much requiring players to cycle through his alt-modes (he has to be nerfed somehow lmao)

Xaaron doesn't have a transformation ability but he's like the best support character in the game.

Fort Max wields the master sword. This is non-negotiable.

[hellfiresky]

No laws in the Underworld

Inspired by @corrie-crime-solver and @1313-hunter’s interaction, here’s a one shot of Lesiil’s eventual visit to the Underworld.

Lesiil Thrace is courtesy of @orangez3st - read her stories here!

Pairings: Commander Fox x OC & Captain Rex x OC (mentioned only).

—————

It had been a while since a fucking LAAT came all the way down to 1313. Usually, when a Republic gunship made its way down here, it meant either a raid or a CIS-related warzone, and neither was the problem today.

The ship landed at the rarely used Terminal 24, kicking up dust and the distinct stench of the hangar. The hatch opened, and flanked by two shock troopers was her.

Detective Lesiil Thrace. Fox’s posh girlfriend.

Curly hair neatly tied in half, deep brown skin clad in red leather jacket that was tailored to absolute perfection. A blaster pistol rested at her hip - very posh, but not helpless. Tal had to admit, she looked the part.

Lesiil stepped off the gunship, thanked the troopers (which, who even does that?), and started making her way over. But before she could get far, one of the shock troopers made a beeline for Tal. “Marshal Commander specifically instructed you to keep eyes on her at all times.”

Tal sighed. “Yeah, he fucking texted me.”

Because of course he did. Last night, half past midnight.

Fox: Ge’tal, pick up Lesiil tomorrow at 1800. Be nice.

No warning, no details, just a command. Classic Fox. Tal had stared at her datapad for a full minute before responding.

Tal: Afraid she’ll get mugged on the way to Bug’s?

Fox: I’m serious.

Tal: That’s a first.

No reply after that. Which, fine. Typical. He didn’t need to put it in writing, but Lesiil was important. Tal might be an asshole sometimes, but she wasn’t about to fuck this up just to be petty. Still. “Be nice”? Like she was some rabid tooka he had to keep on a leash?

The detective stopped a few feet away, adjusting her matching fingerless gloves before looking Tal up and down. Not in the usual way topsiders do when they see her - no judgment, no disdain, no what hole did you crawl out of? Just… taking her in.

“Tal?”

Her voice was refined, definitely a topside accent. Federal District, for sure. Not Uscru. No way. She’d make a damn fine weather announcer or a news anchor.

Tal shoved her hands into her pockets. “Yeah. You Lesiil?”

Lesiil smiled. “I am.”

“Well,” Tal drawled, cocking her chin, “finally meeting in person, huh?”

Lesiil’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, like she already knew Tal was going to be like this. “Yes,” she chided. “Fox has mentioned you often.”

“Hope he kept it flattering.”

“Depends on your definition.” A polite chuckle came out of her mouth. “Mostly, he described you as ‘a menace.’”

“Sounds about right.” Tal grinned.

She could feel the shock troopers’ eyes on her at all times, Fox’s orders, as if Lesiil was some delicate flower who needed a transparisteel dome. She clearly wasn’t. That was the problem with Fox, overprotective as hell. Always thinking five steps ahead, planning for every worst-case scenario, assuming everyone he cared about was one step away from a disaster. Tal understood it. Didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.

“So, what’s the plan? I assume you have one.”

Tal scratched her jaw. “Yeah, sure. Dinner first. Gonna take you to the best damn nerf meatball soup in the underworld.”

Lesiil lifted a brow. “That a fact?”

“You doubtin’ me?”

“Not yet.”

Tal rolled her eyes, jerking her head toward the main street. “C’mon, this way.”

Lesiil just smiled again, walking beside her like they were actual friends. Which was weird because Tal still hadn’t decided if she liked her or not, but at the very least, she was not stuck up.

Tal turned her head back again, watching as the LAAT lifted off. “They gonna pick you up, or…?”

“Fox said you’ll fly me back to the surface. Preferably before 0200.”

What.

Dammit. Fox hadn’t said shit about flying her back. But - yeah, makes sense, actually. He’d mentioned a new assignment, which meant he’d probably call her in for a briefing anyway. Probably at exactly 0800, because that’s just how his annoying ass operates. She sighed, mentally doing the math. That meant if she flew Lesiil up, then got called in, she might as well just stay topside overnight instead of wasting time flying back down.

Shit. Where was she even gonna crash? If Rex was being his usual “sleep at 2100” self, then she was fucked. She’d knock on his door, he wouldn’t answer, and she’d be stuck either finding a hole in the topside, or worse, sleeping in Rancid.

Which, gods, what a waste of fuel.

“Yeah, alright. 0200.” Tal unhooked her spare helmet from the speederbike and tossed it over. “You good with a speederbike, yeah? Hop on.”

“I do drive, you know,” Lesiil said, turning the helmet over in her hands before securing it over her curls.

“Yeah? Topsider driving ain’t the same as down here,” Tal muttered, swinging a leg over the speeder. “We have no traffic lanes to follow in 1313, so try not to fall off.”

Lesiil let out a surprisingly unbothered laugh before hopping onto the seat behind her. Most topsiders hesitated before getting onto a speederbike in the underworld, especially behind someone like Tal. Fox’s girl? Just held on like she’d done this before.

The Mandalorian revved the engine, felt the hum beneath her legs, and gave the detective a look from the mirror. “Hold on tight, Les.”

—————

“Back again with another victim, Bug.” Tal waved at the Duros behind the counter as they stepped into Bug’s Fry-Up. The place was packed, even more than usual. The dinner rush, when the real underworld labourers - dock workers, utility technicians, the ones who actually kept Coruscant from falling apart - finally crawled out of their shifts and into places like this. Cheap, hot, greasy food. The best kind.

“Another topsider, Tal?” Bug chided as he tossed a grease-stained apron into the corner and grabbed a fresh one from a hook. The old one hit the floor with a wet slap, which was concerning considering the reddish-brown stain across the front. Probably nerf blood. Hopefully.

“Yeah, yeah, I keep ‘em comin’. Gotta educate the poor surface folk, y’know.” Tal huffed.

To her credit, Lesiil did not react to the grimy surroundings. No nose wrinkling, no wide-eyed horror, no immediate instinct to wipe down the table with sanitising wipes. Tal had expected at least one of those things. But she took in the place with genuine interest, almost as if she was assessing a crime scene. “When was the last time this place was disinfected?” she asked, crossing her legs neatly.

“Yeah, don’t let Bug or his husband hear that.” Tal grimaced, earning a raised brow from the woman across her. “Look, everyone here’s alive. I eat here almost every day, and look at my guns.” Tal flexed an arm, rolling her eyes as she pointed at her bicep. Lesiil, not even slightly impressed, gave her a shrug. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t see the rats in front of the joint.”

“Perfect.”

Lesiil smiled politely. “I’ll get the soup you mentioned.”

“Good choice. Welcome to the underworld.” The bounty hunter pushed off her chair, and headed over to the counter to shout their order at Bug.

Behind her, Lesiil dropped her gaze to the red crisps wrapped in crinkled plastic on the table. Tal, catching the look, snorted. She grabbed a bag, ripped it open with her teeth, and popped a crisp into her mouth. Crunchy, spicy, probably terrible for you (especially if you have IBS). Perfect.

“Here,” she tossed the bag towards Lesiil. “Try it. Protato chips. Chilli powder. Maker knows what the hell else they put in ‘em.”

Haphazardly taking the bag, the curly haired detective studied the crisps like they might be some kind of illegal substance.

“You know protato, right? That’s—”

“Synthetic potatoes. I know,” Lesiil interrupted, finally plucking a crisp from the bag.

“Well?”

Lesiil swallowed, exhaled slowly, and reached for the nearest cup of water. “That… has a kick.”

“Wakes you up,” Tal popped some more crisps.

“I believe there are healthier ways to keep yourself awake,” Lesiil smoothed down an invisible wrinkle on her sleeve, another perfectly polite smile stretching across her face.

“Alright, what do you want?”

“You invited me here for the nerf soup,” Lesiil folded her hands neatly, “and I came. Besides, like I said, I’d like to get to know the contractor the Marshal Commander talks so much about.”

Tal groaned, slumping into her seat. “Dude still complains about me?”

“Hmm. Depends. Do daily grievances count as complaining?”

Tal rolled her eyes so hard her skull nearly cracked. “He loves me.”

“Oh, yes. Just as one loves a persistent migraine.” Lesiil stirred the water in her cup with the straw.

“You topsiders always this mean, or is that just a you thing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fox has a weird way of showing appreciation. He yelled at me last week for smoking in the weapons holding room.” Tal rolled her eyes, crumpling the already crinkled plastic wrapping and tossing it to the bin.

“As he should,” Lesiil said without missing a beat. “You were in a government building.”

“It’s CG’s hangar. Not the Senate chambers.”

“And yet, still subject to fire codes,” Lesiil mused. “How did you even get past security with a lighter?”

Tal grinned. “I got my ways.”

Lesiil sighed, setting down her cup. “I don’t know how Fox puts up with you.”

“Pure admiration,” Tal said smugly. “Maybe even a little awe.”

Before she could politely dismantle Tal’s ego, Bug appeared, setting their bowls down. Clear broth, glass noodles, perfectly round nerf meatballs floating between, and a spoon absolutely drowning in red chili paste. He gave Lesiil a toothy grin. “Hope you brought your digestive medication, topsider.”

Tal barked out a laugh as Bug walked off, leaving them to their fate. “Yeah,” she stirred the chili paste into her broth. “What he said.”

In front of her, Lesiil eyed the deep red spice coating her spoon with thinly veiled skepticism before looking back to the red-haired Mandalorian. “You eat using this… spoon?” she asked.

“No, you stare at it ‘til it finishes itself. Yeah, of course, how else?” Tal slurped her noodles loudly, making a point of it.

Lesiil breathed - one of those patient, I-am-above-this breaths - before picking up her own spoon and giving it one last judgmental look. Then, with the kind of graceful resolve only a posh and rich topsider could manage, she took a bite. Chewed. Raised both eyebrows. Exhaled. Then, very calmly, she reached for her water.

Tal cackled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

—————

“I still don’t get how the underworld works without laws,” Lesiil said, finally giving in to the inevitable and tying her hair all the way back. None of that half-up, half-down bantha shit anymore. The smog had finally gotten to her.

“You topsiders always think you’d drop dead the second you breathe a little dirty air.”

Lesiil didn’t dignify that with a response, just fixed her hair and kept walking. “I mean it. No central government, no proper law enforcement, no stability. How does it function?”

Tal kicked a loose piece of pebble as they strolled. The meal had been good, and Lesiil had managed to finish her soup - though it had required several water breaks and one emergency fresher run a klick away from the joint because, apparently, Bug’s fresher was “not up to her standards.”

“It functions.” Tal shrugged.

Lesiil deadpanned. “That’s not an answer.”

Tal snorted. “It is an answer. Just not the one you want.”

“Alright, then. Why do you live here? Knowing how much you earn and—”

Tal cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Listen, topside’s got laws, right?”

Lesiil frowned, clearly not appreciating being interrupted, but nodded. “Yes.”

“And who do those laws actually protect?” Tal tilted her head. “You got entire districts of working-class people in the mid-levels barely scraping by, still getting taxed like they live in the Senate District. You got corpos sitting on more credits than they can spend while people beg on the streets a few blocks away. That’s with laws. So what’s so great about ‘em?”

“Laws provide order.” Lesiil pressed her lips together.

“Order for who?” Tal bit back. “The people making the rules?”

That successfully drew a long sigh from the detective, but it didn’t sound dismissive. Tal could tell she was actually thinking about it. She stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “Down here, we got our own systems. Might not be legal, but it works. No one’s waiting on a damn permission slip from some senator who’s never stepped foot outside the upper levels. You wanna survive, you make it happen yourself.”

Lesiil was quiet for a moment before answering with more questions, “And that’s what you like about it?”

“That, and the rent’s cheap.” Tal grinned.

Lesiil let out a surprised laugh. It was quick, real, and Tal felt a little victorious at finally dragging it out of her. The detective shook her head, adjusting her fingerless gloves. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know,”

Lesiil sighed dramatically. “Fine. You’re also… tolerable.”

“Gosh, you sound like Fox.” A short, disbelieving laugh escaped Tal’s lips.

Beside her, Lesiil giggled. Yep, giggles. Giddily, even. Like she couldn’t help herself. “I mean…” She hugged herself, rocking on her heels. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“Right, and the sun is hot,” Tal huffed.

The detective beamed, looking altogether too pleased with herself. “You know, it’s cute,” she started. “He… you know him, right? He’s quite fond of this Saleucami cheese biscuits brand. Paired with his favourite artisan caf that I usually buy. That…” She made a little abstract motion with her hands, “… softens him.”

“That man is ridiculous.” Tal blinked. Then laughed, shaking her head. “You also know he’s a big-ass film buff, right?”

“Oh?”

“We had lunch together once, and bro talked about Nokru Express like his life depended on it.” Tal grinned wider.

Lesiil lit up, laughing as she palmed her forehead. “Oh—oh, I know!”

“He quoted the whole thing, Les!” Tal cackled. “The whole thing. In between bites of his stew.”

“Please tell me he did the canned fruit monologue—” Lesiil gasped, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“The fucking monologue.”

”Maker’s sake, I love that man.” A wheezed finally came out of Lesiil, earning a laugh from Tal. She didn’t know that a posh lady like her could even laugh with her mouth open.

“A bunch of silly guys, those troopers are,” Tal chuckled. “Rex sleeps at 2100, on the dot, and watches speeder repair tutorials before bed like it’s a fucking lullaby.”

“… He doesn’t own a speeder.” Lesiil scrunched her brows.

Tal pointed at her. “That’s what I said!”

Lesiil stifled another giggle.

“And,” Tal continued, with increasing bafflement, “he also loves reading those comic strips on the Holonet.”

“The real old-fashioned ones?”

“Yes! The ones for kids!”

“Oh, that’s adorable!” Lesiil pressed a hand to her mouth with her eyes sparking with amusement.

Befriending a topsider, hell, an ex-law enforcer nonetheless, was never part of Tal’s plan. Not even remotely. She had rules about that sort of thing: topsiders don’t get it, don’t want to get it, and eventually, they leave. Same way non-clone Republic dogs weren’t meant to be trusted, even if you could get along with them for a drink or two. But, well… if the clones trusted her, then Tal would trust her. Simple as that.

Besides, Lesiil wasn’t too bad. A little too composed, too clean, too observant in a way that felt deeply topsider-ish, but not judgmental. She had a habit of making barely audible noises whenever something disgusted her, a faint grimace at a puddle that smelled too putrid, a slow exhale when they passed a stall that sold exotic meat - and Tal was starting to think it was a subconscious reflex, like her own tendency to roll her eyes at authority figures.

“I was actually gonna bring you to The Wharf, but—” Tal started, leading Lesiil towards a balcony at the end of the street. One of the few places overlooking the lower sector, where you could get a full, unobstructed view of The Wharf. Lesiil stepped up beside her, gaze following where Tal was staring.

The Wharf was alive tonight. People slamming bodies like bugs, the unmistakable noise of commotion - shouting, the occasional crash of heavy duty tools, and… Blaster shots.

“Turf war.” Tal jerked her head.

“How long before it ends?”

Tal shrugged. “Give or take a few hours. Maybe less, if someone pulls out a thermal detonator.”

Lesiil’s expression didn’t falter, which was interesting. Most topsiders would at least react. They’d pull back, frown, sigh about how tragic it all is, say something about the lack of order, how things should be fixed, as if this wasn’t the way it had always been. But she simply watched, lips pressed together in thought.

Tal leaned her arms against the railing. “You ever been to a real turf war before?”

With her arms crossed over her chest, Lesiil didn’t answer right away. She was watching the scene unfold with that same composed expression, the one Tal had already clocked as a detective’s trained patience - the ability to observe, to wait, to put the pieces together before speaking. After a moment, she exhaled. “We don’t have gangs on the surface.”

Tal turned her head so fast it almost gave her a whiplash. “Oh, word.” The laughter that followed was loud - genuinely entertained, as if she’d just heard the best joke of the night. For a second, she was going to let it go - just laugh and move on - but no. Of course, Tal couldn’t help herself. “I beg to differ though.”

Lesiil side-eyed her, and Tal simply pointed her finger at the structure above them. “You got gangs. They’re just wearing better suits.”

“Oh, right. Them.” The detective let out a quiet professional laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She shifted her weight to the other foot, fingers tapping a calculating rhythm against her arm. “I almost forgot about the ones who don’t need blasters to do damage.”

“Yeah? And what do you call those guys, Les?”

“Institutional criminals.” She answered. “Or, if you ask them, executives.”

“Naw, you get it. Funny how the law seems to stretch to accommodate certain crimes more than others.” Tal barked out a laugh, earning a thoughtful hum from the detective. That was the thing about her, Tal was realising. Sharp mind, sharper tongue, but she picked her battles. Knew exactly when to play along and when to dig deeper.

She turned, lifting her brows. “So, where to next, Tal?”

“You ever been to Chiaki?” Tal squinted at her.

Lesiil blinked. “The what? Again, first time here.”

“Chiaki.” Tal grinned. “It’s a market. Kinda. But also kinda not. S’got this area where people just… drop off weird shit. Artifacts, weapons, tech, maybe some stuff that fell off a speeder—”

Lesiil cut in smoothly, “You mean stolen goods.”

Tal snapped her fingers at her. “Semantics. Anyway, point is, people dump stuff, and if no one claims it, it just kinda… becomes public property.”

“That sounds deeply illegal and unsanitary.”

“Oh, it absolutely is.”

“Will it get me stabbed?” Lesiil sighed, adjusting her sleek blaster strapped around her hip.

“Nah,” Tal waved her off, already walking. “I gotchu.”

Lesiil didn’t move right away. She watched her go for a moment, then sighed again as if reconsidering her life choices, before finally falling into step beside her.

“Come on,” Tal stretched her arms over her head, cracking her back with a satisfying pop. “Before I gotta fly you back upstairs and, hopefully, crash at Rex’s - and then off to that thrilling briefing with your boyfriend at precisely 0800.”

“Fox does love his punctuality.” Lesiil smiled knowingly.

“Oh, I know. Bro probably schedules his thoughts by the hour.”

“And if you can’t crash at Rex’s?”

“Then I gotta sleep in my ship, burnin’ fuel like a dumbass.” Tal let out a heavy sigh like the weight of the galaxy had just dropped onto her shoulders.

“Tragic.”

Tal glared at her “You topsiders are so unsympathetic.”

“Says the one killing people for a living.”

“Oh, gosh, you really are a professional yapper. You weren’t kidding when you said Fox calls you that.” Tal threw her hands up.

Lesiil’s lips curved in quiet satisfaction, that posh little smirk settling neatly on her face like it belonged there. “He’s not wrong.”

“Man, no wonder he’s obsessed with you.” Tal tossed an arm around her shoulder like they’d been partners in crime for years. “You out-talk him. That’s some real power move shit.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Lesiil barked out a laugh.

She tossed Lesiil her spare helmet, watching as the detective caught it and adjusted the straps. Tal swung a leg over the speederbike, looking back at her. “Alright, yapper, we’re hitting Chiaki before some poor bastard claims the good stolen speeder parts.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Lesiil still climbed onto the speeder with no hesitation. “You do know you’re involving an ex-law enforcer in a crime, right?”

“Tch, it’s not a crime if no one reports it.”

Lesiil let out another one of those practiced career laughs, which only earned a shit eating grin from the Mandalorian in front of her. “Hold on tight, Les.” And with that, Tal gunned it, the speeder tearing through the floating billboards, past poorly lit alleys and glowing storefronts, until laughter and engine noise melted into the commotion of Coruscant Underworld’s never-ending night.

[padawansuggest]

You know what else I like???? I like watching people eat. I can watch a mukbang if I’m extremely hungry but need something to watch while stuffing my face (tho for mukbangs themselves I have to turn off the volume entirely because those sounds make me wanna nerf someone lol) or I could watch someone going through a convenience store, getting a whole meal, and eating it, but my fave??? Watching someone do one of those ‘challenge platters’. The ones where ‘you have ab hour to finish this whole platter and get the whole meal, or take longer and pay full’ sorta situations???

Yeah idk what it is about someone stuffing themselves sick but maybe it’s because I actually have a very small stomach and have to eat tiny meals so I don’t throw up, but also because as soon as I’m full, food doesn’t even TASTE good anymore and people in these videos seem to enjoy it the whole way through. I smell a food while full and I’m gagging even if it’s my fave.

Either way. So I get it. I don’t like exaggerated eating sounds, but I love watching someone eat a massive delicious meal.

Either way. This is gonna sound like it’s outta left field. But. AU where Qui-Gon has Once More had to leave his Padawan in the middle of nowhere, only for Obi to run out of money.

Of course, that’s when he passes by someone doing a food volg and talking about the one hour challenge to eat all this food and you get your meal free. You have to eat it all and you gotta do it in an hour.

Obviously, he stops right behind them, not realizing they’re live-streaming, and is all ‘omfg free meal if I eat it all in an hour??’ And the vlogger is all ‘omfg hungy baby Jedi’ and parks his ass next to them all ‘okay, let’s explain the rules’ and Obi is all ‘shit, I can’t afford 100 credits if I fail’ but the vlogger is all ‘baby Jedi, if you try this with me on livestream, I will likely make enough in this one stream to pay for our meals 100x over, lemme feed you’ and then they hear a ding of someone sending like 500 credits worth of blogging tokens all ‘feed him before I track you down and feed him for you’. See. Already paid for.

Anyways. That was the day that the galaxy at large learned that a smol Jedi padawan can eat a Bantha, purrs really nice and contented when they’re stuffed full, and also is a cuddly little worm who very much tried to be the bloggers lap warmer after a nice meal. He’s a baby.

Anyways I’ve decided the vlogger should be a Mandalorian OC and they adopt him and follow him and Qui-Gon on missions for the next 10 years (till Obi is knighted and has a kid of his own, then they follow him and Ani instead) and do a bunch of live-streaming challenges all over the galaxy of food challenge platters.

Also maybe make Obi a lil more plump???? As a treato 🥺🥺🥺????

Yes. That can also be allowed. Bant is his Mando parent’s bestie she’s never seen her bestie so healthy and happy before. Qui-Gon is trying his best but now he has someone to hold a blaster to his head when he’s not being a good master at the moment. Anakin is spoiled rotten and Obi’s Mando Buir gets married to Shmi probably and they travel the galaxy. Shmi isn’t a big eater but she likes her fancy lil delicate meals while riduur is eating a bantha’s share. It’s cute.

Is this entirely For Me? Probably. Am I considering making it because I love playing with holonet, social media in the galaxy, and Mandos adopting Obi? Ya.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's kid runs up to Skeleton, and excitedly tells them that they want to show them something "really really really cool!!!"

The kid proceeds to take them outside, and promptly summons a Gaster Blaster the size of a house.

Undertale Sans - Uh oh. He carefully says that it's nice and that you can make it disappear because he is terrified that the house will get atomized if you fire it. He then proceeds to run to Alphys so they can find a way to nerf the kid's magic so he doesn't explode the house because of a strong feeling, please. He thought Papyrus' magic was bad but you're a whole another level. He's so anxious.

Undertale Papyrus - Hum... Well, he should have expected it since his own magic is quite wild, but... Well. Even for him, who makes bones the size of a building, that's something. He wonders if he should talk to Sans about this. That's probably bad. But also that's so freaking cool. Aunt Undyne is going to flip hard.

Underswap Sans - D: What the hell. You can't do that. That's illegal. He's the one with cool magic, you're not supposed to be cooler than him. He's not jealous or anything. But more importantly, can he ride it? He needs to ride your attack. Please let him, he's begging you.

Underswap Papyrus - The amount of work he will have to do to fix this is filling him with so much dread he passes out on the floor. When he wakes up, he calls Undyne to beg her for help because he can't do this.

Underfell Sans - "holy bloody fucking shit". And you don't even have LV???? How the hell is that possible? Does he have boss monster genes he ignores? He doesn't understand how your attack can be this big. It's quite awesome but also quite worrying, he won't lie. You're still a kid and your magic is supposed to grow for still a few years. He's scared to see how powerful you will get.

Underfell Papyrus - He whistles, impressed. Clearly, this is the result of his expert fatherhood and training. He knew it would be worth it in the end. He's very proud of his kid and seems nothing wrong with that. All he sees is that his kid is going to kick Undyne's ass in a few years and that he will be there to laugh at her face when it finally happens.

Horrortale Sans - Uh. Is this normal? He's not sure anymore what is and what's not. He shrugs and pets his kid on the head. That's quite a nice job, very impressive. Please don't use it in the house or Uncle Willow will lecture you to death for sure though.

Horrortale Papyrus - Mr. Safety First is having a mental breakdown right now. How is he supposed to help his kid to control his magic better when after a week only you're doing this to him? Willow wants to cry. He has no idea what to do to fix this. It's incredibly dangerous for yourself, the house and the farm too. Welp. That's it. He's calling Toriel. That's out of his jurisdiction.

Swapfell Sans - He laughs hysterically. This is AWESOME. He's ecstatic. Rus magic was quite weak and he got bored teaching him how to use it. However yours? That's a real challenge. He's so excited! This is the best gift of his life. The kid wonders if they should take it as a compliment or not.

Swapfell Papyrus - Wow. Yep. Nope. That's not his problem. He didn't sign for this. If you destroy something, he's not here lol. He gently pushes you towards his brother and lets him take care of your magic training. There's no way he can help with this. His magic is too weak to restrain yours anyway, so he can't be a good teacher even if he wanted to.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's quite speechless, even the kid is shocked. Wine is never speechless, he always has something to say or to criticize. That's quite a first. He never expected that. Welp. He's going to have quite some work to keep your magic controlled. Well done, your training starts the new day. At 4 a.m. You regret your decision to show him.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He throws himself on the floor and curls up to protect his head instinctively. Uh. The kid is staring. Welp, this is awkward. There's a long silence. Then Coffee shakily says that it's nice. But he's not taking care of this. As soon as the kid is gone, he's running to his brother to ask for help. He has no idea what to do about that.

[mushroomsoupofficial]

Sleep laughing is objectively horrifying but the best way to wake up especially because the joke that woke me up was a police officer getting tapped into a nerf fight and the person who threw him a nerf gun said "this one is called Asteroid Blaster and that one (points at policeman holding a nerf gun) is the Cum Collector"