Omg, I just realized why lil anakin made C3-P0 such a worry wort —-

Because he was built to look after his mom 🥲😭

Of course he’d be always worried, he made him to worry about his mother mama when he wasn’t there 😭😭😭

Leaving Tatooine

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:18:05

Guys I'm so incredibly sorry. My brain is currently full of gen 1 my little pony thoughts only suitable for the fictbio blog

34 and obikin for the fic list! 👀👀👀

Thank you for this prompt!

from this prompt list

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au (760 words)

Someone had allowed the event planner to hire a quartet of jizz-wailers for the masquerade. The off-key kloo horn player was adding to the headache that Obi-Wan’s elaborate suit and matching mask had brought on at the beginning of the night. The only upside to the mask Obi-Wan had been required to don for it was that it hid his facial expressions. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide his distaste for the worst of the songs otherwise.

The mask otherwise was nothing but a hindrance. The Order had sent him because they’d gotten a tip that there would be an illicit deal taking place during the ball: that the Zygerrians were selling force sensitives to the Neimoidians. For what purpose was unknown, and Obi-Wan was tasked with stopping the deal and gathering information. He had his suspicions on which Trade Federation and Zygerrian representatives would be here, but it was difficult to identify anyone with the ornate masks and disguises every being in the room wore.

Obi-Wan was startled out of his perusal of the dance floor – he’d been tracking three different Zygerrians on the floor, and he was about to rule out one of them as his mark - by someone bumping into his elbow and spilling their drink on him.

“So sorry, I didn’t see you there. Here, let me help you clean up.” Before Obi-Wan could say anything the stranger had looped their arm through his and was pulling Obi-Wan toward the freshers.

“I’m quite alright,” Obi-Wan protested, “It’s just white wine, I can just grab a napkin here to clean it up.”

“Kriff,” the stranger muttered. “I knew I should have grabbed a different drink.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and dug his heels in. Regardless, the other man kept dragging him. Unwilling to cause a scene, Obi-Wan gave in and followed. When they made it through the fresher door the stranger took off his blue and green mask, covered in large feathers, and revealed his face.

“Again, I’m so sorry Master Kenobi, but I’ve got important information for you.” Earnest blue eyes met his and Obi-Wan swallowed back the biting retort he’d been prepared to reply with.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said instead. The stranger bit their plush lip, drawing in Obi-Wan’s eyes, while they debated whether to reveal their identity or not.

“Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the man said finally, offering his hand out for Obi-Wan to shake. Instead, he grasped his fingers gently and bent down to press a soft kiss to the back of Anakin’s hand. “I – I’m a shadow from the Tatoo system. I’ve been tracking the Zygerrians you’re here for.”

Obi-Wan pushed his own mask up so he could speak to Anakin face to face. It was a relief to have another Jedi here. Normally this mission would have been assigned to a Master with a senior Padawan, or two Knights, but with rising tensions throughout the galaxy the Jedi were spread thin.

“Pleased to meet you Anakin,” he said warmly. “People might start to notice if we hide in the fresher for too long, why don’t you fill me in on the dance floor?”

Anakin smiled and put his mask back on before looping an arm through Obi-Wan’s. “I’ll follow your lead, Master.”

On the dance floor, Obi-Wan drew Anakin close and guided him into a simple dance step. Anakin followed his lead easily. They spun around the floor and Anakin pointed out the Zyerrian he’d followed across two systems, and told Obi-Wan what he’d learned about the trafficking operation. They had some time until the handoff, and Obi-Wan decided to keep them on the dance floor and wait for the mark to leave before they followed.

Tipping his face down, Anakin whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear. “What do you say after we kick some slaver ass and free some force sensitives, you give me a ride on your ship after?” He let one of his hands slide down Obi-Wan’s chest, making his intentions clear.

Obi-Wan pulled back slightly to get a better look at Anakin. “Surely they teach shadows how to flirt better than that?”

Anakin shrugged. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Force help me, it is. Though you could have gotten what you wanted without opening your mouth.” Anakin smirked at him and started to say something. “Don’t say anything,” Obi-Wan said exasperatedly.

Anakin wiggled his eyebrows and pulled Obi-Wan off the floor. “Come on,” he said excitedly, “it’s go time. We can talk about what to do with my mouth after we take care of this.”  

Modern au trans Ace has been consuming my mind lately so I thought I'll just share all of my headcanons or else I'll explode:

• Sabo was the first person he had come out to. It happened when they were around 9. Ace had always felt that something was "wrong" about him. That the way he acted, his interests and past times, and just how he would do things were "unnatural" or wierd". Once Ace became familiar with the conspet of transgenderism he just opened up to him, and was met with instant support.

• Immediately after this, Sabo gave Ace his (trademark) transgender haircut in the bathroom of Dadan's house. She actually entered it while they were there and upon seeing it she cried out of happyness. (Mothers know everything)

• Coming out to Garp was a bit harder for Ace since he wasn't sure how an older person would have reacted, I mean Garp just left there his grand"daughter" and came back to a grandson after all. But we all know that Garp would never discriminate, and plus now he has another grandson to train.

• Luffy arrived in his life after a full year after he had transitioned, so at first Ace wasn't sure how to exacly explain this to Luffy, but he did manage to open up to him after they officially became brothers. Luffy wasn't just an innocent kid, while he didn't fully understood concepts like transphobia, to him Ace is just his brother so if anyone is mean to him or calls him names he'll just kick their asses.

• Ace had been homeschooled for the 5 years that would have been him attending elementary school. Middle school was the first time he attended an actual school and at first he wasn't open or confident at all and was ready to just beat up anyone who tried to shit talk him.

• Surprisingly he made a few friends. They were mostly just Luffy's friends who were older than him or his friends's siblings, but he appreciated it anyway. His absolute best friend ever tho is Kuina. I hd her as non binary using she/they so its just trans supporting trans, and they also have like a million of other reasons to be friends but those were already pointed out.

• His top surgery was payed by none other than his father Newgate. The Whitebeards pirates would be just this one tatoo shop Ace works at that Newgate he opened after "retiring" from biker gangs and stuff.

• Obbligatory T4T Yamace, but we all already knew this, didn't we?

• Ace gets the best older trans guy advice from Franky. Because to me, he is just what every trans guy aspires to be, cool and hardboiled. And who wouldn't want to get advice from the dude who did his own top surgery in his father's mechanic shop at 15?

These are all from me, but feel free to add your own or elaborate on the ones you like.

Trans Ace is so real to me that I quite literally can't imagine him being cis. It's just so,,, Weird to me. And I absolutely love everything you said. I definitely think Sabo was the first one to know and the one who helped Ace the most with his transition, also telling Garp, who actually is way better (if you can say 'better' when something isn't even 'good' but yeah) at raising boys. At least he understands them better. So I think he wouldn't have a problem with it at all even if he's more on the "I don't really get it that much, kid, but as long as you're happy" type of vibe. I agree with everything,, When he was younger he really didn't interact with many people and usually preferred to be alone. Teachers considered him more of a problematic kid than anything, and always compared him to Sabo with the typical "how are you like this when your brother is just so polite and smart!?" but then Sabo always ends up fighting the teachers for saying that shit in front of the class and Sabo stops being so perfect in their eyes (also he starts rebelling himself a lot against the educational system lmao). And not to talk shit about Garp, but talking shit about Garp I'm sure Ace would get in trouble a lot and Garp wouldn't show up to the meetings with Ace's teachers. That only makes Ace feel lonelier and everyone thinks he's extremely troubled. When he's literally a sweetheart to both Sabo and Luffy,, When he meets Luffy's friends, he starts to open up to people. He still gets in a lot of trouble, honestly, but that's just him. I think his classmates find out about him being trans, of course, and not a lot of people are okay with that. He truly wants to fight them but he knows that if he keeps going like this he'll get expelled and he doesn't like the idea of leaving Sabo and Luffy alone ('doesn't like the idea' meaning he almost gets expelled and Sabo had to scold him and tell him that even though he has his own friends he doesn't know what he would do without him in school), so Luffy and Sabo are usually the one defending him a lot of the time since the teachers, even though they're chaotic, don't really hate them (because look at those cutie patooties how could you hate Luffy???? He gets along even with teachers). The Whitebeard pirates accept him with open arms and he finally feels he has a place to belong to. Newgate doesn't even offer to pay for the surgery, he just pays without telling him first because he knows Ace wouldn't have let him do it otherwise. He's so so grateful for them. And his brothers. And his friends. And everybody that has ever supported him. I think that he has lots of issues with depression and self-image and he often has a hard time when he acts impulsively, but Newgate always helps him. He grounds him. Gives him something to focus on. And Franky is soooo fun to be around. Newgate tells him to go see Franky and give him the money he owes him, and that's how they meet, basically. It's obvious he's trans because he goes shirtless all the time and scars are there and everything... And Ace just has to ask about his experience. Franky helps him gladly. And it's not only cathartic but also very comforting. He also meets Robin there!!!! Because married Frobin in this one. And I think Ace would absolutely love her because she keeps being oh so nice to him. She kind of reminds him of Makino, and it's extremely sweet. I think Ace now goes to help Franky from time to time when the Tattoo shop doesn't really need him there or, well, whenever he wants to because he also is extremely interested in bikes.

T4T Yamace my beloved.... Guys being guys. Dudes being dudes. I think they meet because Newgate tells Ace something about this man Kaido (leader of a gang) who owes him lots of money or something or did something very nasty to him yadda yadda Maybe they just have beef from when Newgate was into the gang stuff. And Ace keeps saying he should go and settle things with Kaido and beat him up for that, but Newgate is retired and he really, really doesn't give a single fuck about it. Lmao. Ace says he could take down Kaido himself. Newgate laughs. Ace is too proud. So he ends up looking for Kaido and fighting Yamato late at night in the street and,, Well. You know how it goes. They become daddy issues besties and turns out Yamato does not want to follow his dad's steps. Ace is curious about Yamato's experience because he doesn't seem to want to have surgery or anything, and they keep bonding over their pasts and family and Yamato ends up joining the friend group. And it's so cute. Newgate can see the kid is in love because every day he waits for Yamato to come pick him up to hang out. Or maybe he begs to get out earlier to go see Yamato. He keeps talking about Yamato,,, All the time. Even Sabo and Luffy are done with him. It's endearing.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA This is just so good. Modern Au my absolute beloved.

I keep getting hyperspecific polls across my dash and it looks fun so here's one from me. Reblogs are appreciated I wanna see how unhinged the results are with a wider sample.

My personal favela five headcanons (and bonus redstone gang trio ones)

Cellbit - So this wet cat of a man has a Backstory. You know. Born a catboy, occultists took him and experienced on him, ascended, learned some rituals and escaped. Was kinda out of sanity at that time so he kinda became a serial killer, classical Cellbit things. He was indeed rescued by Felps after Alcatraz, and had to get some reeeeealy intense therapy... how Felps found a therapist that would effectively treat him is a mystery, but he did and slowly, Cellbit got better. Nowadays, he looks like a mostly normal man. Mostly thanks to his appearance distortion ritual hiding the biggest part of his scars, the tatoos from when he was a guinea pig to occultists and his cat ears. Oh and he also has faceblindness.

Felps - A Felps from the felpsverse that decided to go on a simple vacation to meets some old friends but was dragged to the island. This Felps is actually a quite important Felps, being the one to bring the Felpses that die outside of the felpsverse back home. Sometimes he likes to substitute for other Felpses (The Fuga Impossível universe doesn’t actually have a Felps, it was this guide Felps the “Felps” there). He used to hang quite a lot around some of the few non-Felps entities back on felpsverse, like Rubens. Physically, he has some small differences that distinguish him from the other Felpses, like how he always walks barefoot and how he can float some centimeters off the ground. He can’t really die, but can be hurt. He bleeds black, has lots of spirals over his whole body, and any chunk of flesh that is ripped out of him turns into goo. He has a small mental link to the greater Felps conscience that sends small bits of information about the other Felpses memories whenever he needs it.

Mike - So Mike started out as a simple slime hybrid, orphan, met Pac at school and the two ran away when they finished 9th grade and did some shit, including going to prison. But well, they get out and try a new life for themselves of scientists, with pretty good results if they do say. Anyways, things got kinda freaky when the two figured out genetic modification. So Pac, at the time a simple human, decided to be reasonable despite Mike’s and his own voice and just did a simple fusion. Now, Mike, very confident that his hybrid status would make him sturdier to more extreme transformations, decided to go a little crazy. First was creeper, complete success. A touch of spider, only for the wall climbing? Yup, splendid. Now... blaze? Blaze fucked things up beyond repair. The blaze dna didn’t interact well with his slime dna, fused into magma cube dna and overwrote a lot of his own genome. He almost died and his body became almost unrecognizable. If analyzed, he is around 1% spider, 5% human, 16% slime, 23% creeper and 55% magma cube nowadays. His body is basically a slime mold, vaguely human in shape, red fading into pink, lightly explosive with large eye spots. Despite this body having its uses, Mike was always used to a human body so he and Pac worked hard to make him a robot body. His body went through lots of versions, and it still is being updated. The most recent version has a digital TV face, fingers that have deployable tools (A staple since the second version), and a complex camouflage system. If you pay attention to the joints, you can see glimpses of his true body.

Pac - So Pac used to be a human, but now he is a third planaria. His leg suffered more than Jesus. Despite the rumors, Cellbit DIDN’T eat his leg. But he did bite it. At first it wasn’t all that bad, excluding the obvious, but he still could walk ok, things just got bad when they returned to land and it got infected so bad the leg had to be amputated, bellow the knee. So one of the first things Tazercraft built when they got their lab was a prosthesis for him. And thing were well and swell, buuuut a lab accident happened and Pac’s leg had to be amputated further, over the knee. New prosthesis, everything ok again. Genetic modification time! Mike’s adventures are already written, but Pac decided think a little bit more about it. He decided to go for planaria, because of their regeneration capabilities. He went, got that planaria dna and almost died. But he survived. His leg, for some miraculous reason, got regenerated, but not perfectly, so nowadays he needs a cane a lot of the time. He does wonder what would happen if he is cut in half, but its better to not think about it too much.

 Now the bonus Viniccius13 and DaviGamerHD because they were for a very long time the only minecraft channels I watched

Viniccus13 - He is something of a demigod, almost omnipresent and omniscient, but only on his home world. He is basically a ginormous redstone circuit, the size of a minecraft world, that reached sentience. He can feel and see through all the redstone that is from his home world, and he can “contaminate” the redstone of other worlds to also do that. His body is completely made out of redstone. Think of him a little like a mushroom. He, the man, is the fruiting body, and the redstone underground is the hypha. But he can’t survive outside of his world for very long, he will simply crumble and loose consciousness. To be able to go to other worlds he uses a stabilizer in the form of sunglasses.

Davi - Davi is a hybrid of deer and dryad, a little of a strange mix. His antlers form a ring over his head like a halo, but they have lots of cracks and fractures, and are also very uneven with different growth patterns, caused by his frequents deaths in Viniccius world. Some of Richarlyson body language reminds Forever of Davi, so he calls Richas Davi as a small joke.

For the prompt game: “You’re a terrible cook.” (Mostly because the bit about Obi-Wan making nutrient rich meals in t&t has ruined me forever, thanks)

oooooh ok so i felt like y'all might riot if i wrote another t&t snippet without actually updating the fic (the next chapter is in the works i swear)

so this prompt is still about obi-wan's terrible yet nutrient necessary dishes, only it's set in the fix-a-sith au. no worries if you haven't heard of it!!! it's only 3 posts lol but i thought about it when i read this prompt. basically, jedi treat force users falling to the dark side as a sickness that one can heal from if they have a firm connection to the Light side. So it's standard practice for a Jedi to marry a Fallen Jedi turned Sith in order to rehabilitate them. Jedi!Obi-Wan gets tapped to marry recently Fallen Jedi Watchman Anakin. They, of course, fall in love as well.

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Obi-Wan’s new husband is, to put it lightly, terribly unenthusiastic to wear his last name. That had been the very first thing he’d said, actually, upon their meeting. He’d looked Obi-Wan up and down with Sith-sick yellow eyes and sneered. “I’m not taking your last name, Husband.”

Obi-Wan had smiled,  only half ruffled at the Fallen Jedi’s open hostility. “That’s alright,” he’d said pleasantly. “I can take yours. Obi-Wan Skywalker. What do you think?”

The Sith had fallen silent and still at that, but it was obvious in the Force how much base parts of him enjoyed putting his name on someone else. Sith, after all, were very possessive individuals. The Dark Side demanded it.

Of course, officially Anakin’s name was changed in the Temple registers to Anakin Kenobi. It’s a necessary part of the filing system, how they keep track of the married Siths, and the records provide a helpful start and end-date for each couple.

After all, it’s common practice to divorce once the Sith has been nursed back into the Light by their Jedi spouse. Why keep a live-in nurse when the patient is no longer suffering from an illness?

If, that is, the nurse survives the live-in part.

Obi-Wan isn’t quite sure he will.

He’d volunteered to be on the list of marriageable Jedi back when he was newly Knighted, on the same form where he agreed to be an organ donor. He hadn’t expected, as the years trickled by, to actually be called on to fulfill his promise. But then he’d received a missive, calling him back from the warfront: Jedi Watchman Anakin Skywalker had fallen to the Dark Side in the Tatoo system. He’d been sedated and brought back to the Temple, and the healers had decided that he needed a bonding and a marriage with someone pure and Light in order to have a chance at beating the illness of the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan supposes he should be flattered at being chosen for this. After all, Anakin Skywalker is a very, very powerful Force user. The Jedi Council’s certainty that he would be strong enough in the Light to bring him back is unexpected and honoring. That’s the word. He should feel honored.

Mostly he just feels a headache coming on.

No one told him that the fearsome Sith were really just overgrown younglings. He’d equated the marriage with nursing in his head. Wrong sort of nursing, apparently.

“You’re a terrible cook,” the Sith says from across the table. He’s lounging in his chair, chin tilted up and eyes half shut as he watches Obi-Wan move around the kitchen. “Horrifically inefficient. And I haven’t seen you touch a single spice. Will this be more bland slaw?”

Obi-Wan clenches his jaw slightly before releasing his irritation into the Force. There is no emotion, there is peace.

“Is this the Jedi plan? Bring me back to the Light by forcing me to eat unseasoned and overcooked chicken?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. There is no passion, there is serenity—”

“I might just, if it means I can put something with flavor into my mouth.”

Obi-Wan grabs the nearest available spice and dumps it into the pot.

“Do you take criticism, Jedi?” The Sith asks. Are all Sith so very obnoxious, or is Anakin Skywalker just special?

“Far better than you, I imagine,” Obi-Wan is saying before he can stop himself.

The Force grows colder around them, but Obi-Wan will not give the man the pleasure of seeing his face and whatever emotion is on it right now. He does not turn around.

“What was that?” Skywalker asks, sounding curious. Deceptively curious. “I don’t think I heard you right.

“Perhaps the Dark Side is affecting your hearing,” Obi-Wan replies lightly. The chair scrapes as Skywalker gets to his feet. Obi-Wan refuses to turn around, even now. He is being idiotic. There is a viper, a Sith, behind him, who could strike at any moment, and he is putting his pride first.

This is probably how the Jedi who have died trying to rehabilitate their Siths lost their lives.

“What do you have to criticize me about?” Skywalker is suddenly much closer. His hands fall onto his hips and squeeze.

Obi-Wan says the first thing that comes to mind, which feels like a mistake immediately. “You’re a terrible kisser.”

If possible, Skywalker’s hands tighten. “I am not.”

“Oh, but you are,” Obi-Wan disagrees, thinking back to the one and only kiss they’d shared. The Sith had requested it, probably wanting to see how much bullshit Obi-Wan would tolerate from him. Obi-Wan had kissed him, mostly to prove that he could tolerate a lot. “Much too wet.”

Skywalker snarls behind him and forces him to turn around. His eyes are bright yellow and burning orange, like two suns staring into his soul. The bond between them, sickly and weak as all beginning bonds between Jedi and Sith are, twitches and comes alive. “I’m not a bad kisser.”

“I’ve had better,” Obi-Wan replies, wetting his lips for reasons unknown, even to himself. 

His husband snarls at him. He is quite handsome, Obi-Wan supposes, what with his tan and his square jaw and his soft lips. And his hair is nice as well, blond curls that cascade down his head to hit at his shoulders. He must have been able to pull anyone he wanted in the entire Tatoo system.

Too bad he ended up Fallen and married to an old and washed up Jedi.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out a hand to rest on Skywalker’s cheek. “Perhaps kissing with skill is something no Darksider can do. You’re the only Sith I’ve ever kissed, but I suppose I can do my own research if you would like?”

The Force grows oppressively heavy around them and Skywalker’s hands graduate from his hips to the small of his back. One sneaks up to latch around the back of his neck. “You wear my name,” he growls. “You’re mine.”

There’s the possesssiveness of the Sith. 

Obi-Wan studies the lines of his face curiously. “I didn’t think you liked me much,” he replies cautiously.  “Why should you care?” “You’re mine,” his husband repeats, bringing their foreheads together. Obi-Wan tenses, but the Sith doesn’t seem to have any further designs. He just breathes against his face as the Force twists and turns around them.

Carefully, Obi-Wan reaches out across the bond. He thinks this could probably be a teaching moment, but he doesn’t exactly know where to begin. The idea of telling the Sith currently clinging to his front to give these pesky, negative emotions to the Force feels trite and useless and probably how at least one Jedi has died.

“Yes,” he says instead as he lets his Force signature twine and tangle with his husband’s. “I did take on certain vows when I married you. One of them was to not kiss another, no matter how terribly my husband kisses me.”

“Let me try again,” Skywalker requests lowly. Obi-Wan blinks.

“Pardon?”

“Let me show you how good I can be. For you. Because you’re mine.”

Obi-Wan pauses. Obi-Wan processes. Obi-Wan deflects.

Because—it’s an unspoken rule, really. One may marry a Sith in order to rehabilitate them back into the life of a Jedi, but one should never ever take advantage of them by touching them…carnally. They’re sick. They’re not in their right minds. To sleep with a Sith would be to use them without their proper consent.

It’s very, very hard to remember that when there is a very attractive Sith rubbing up and down his front, practically begging for his touch. Obi-Wan could show him how to kiss. Obi-Wan could show him a lot of things.

No. That must be the dark side’s influence. There have been cases where Jedi married to a Sith have Fallen as well, so contagious was the illness. Obi-Wan cannot slip. The Council has entrusted him with the care and keeping of Anakin Skywalker. He cannot fail.

“But dinner’s ready, darling,” he murmurs, carefully tilting his head away. When he still feels the compulsion to grab Anakin by his curls and kiss him senseless, he forces himself to turn around in the man’s grip and pick up the spoon he’d been stirring the food with. Picking up a small piece of vegetable, he turns back around and offers it wordlessly to his husband.

Without breaking eye contact, the Sith leans down and bites the food before carefully licking the spoon clean. After a second to chew and swallow, Anakin raises his head and tilts it slightly to the side. “What’s that? The flavor? It’s new. Different from your other awful dishes.”

Obi-Wan’s dishes are simply and carefully made to give the consumer precisely the amount of nutrition one needs for a day’s activities and to keep one healthy and filled. Obi-Wan does not say this though. Who knows what his husband would respond with?

“Love,” he says instead, because he knows it’ll make his husband shiver and go hazy in the Force. “It’s made with love.”

It’s made with paprika.

Hi! How are you. I was wondering wcif the tattoos you use on your male sims and if you have any reccommended tatoos for male sims?

Hello, all of my sims tattoos are directly on their skins so you won't be able to find them anywhere because I make them myself. I have no idea about accessory tattoos I don't use them myself cause they omit a weird glare that I don't like but I would suggest looking through any cc finds blog that has a tagging system to try and find something suitable.

The Scimitar Approaches Tatooine

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:51:13

beat Forspoken, and while I probably will write an in-depth review down the line cuz i have many thoughts, I'm just going to pointform my basic thoughts while it's still fresh.

PROS

Great designs all around, the Tantas look so breathtaking with their extravagant designs and yet it doesn't take away from their world, it fits just right in. Absolutely love it.

Good world building most questions i had were answered either through the main story or extra archive stuff. Nothing felt too weird yknow

Gameplay gameplay gameplay. The magic system is literally amazing. I dont think I've had this much fun fighting in an rpg in a long time. Theres so much fun variety so you can focus on whats comfortable for you while also looking sick as fuck. Have i mentioned how good the battle system is cuz i avoid playing mage in every game because its such a slog but here its so fast paced and hits hard. Perfect for me.

The music is soooo good, I love the main theme and find myself humming it literally all the time.

Great graphics but maybe a lil too many particle effects but otherwise really pretty.

The story is technically a pro. Like its good, not bad, not great, just good. Basically something you'd find in the YA Fantasy section, thats the kinda quality it was. Which isn't a insult I did enjoy the story and characters. It just needed polish, fix up the dialogue and trim some of the story fat and i wouldn't have any complaints tbh. Probably would do better as a book series tho ngl, not sure what game format would have saved it.

Shoutout to the accessibility options. I'm glad more games are including these. I'll never understand complaints about them though, like just dont use them if you dont want/need to thats it.

ALMOST FORGOT THE COOLEST THING. THE NAILS. I'm sorry but the idea of using nail art to inscribe magic runes to give you buffs is the coolest fucking idea ever, why has this concept not been used till now. We always see rune tatoos or written on gear and stuff im fantasy media but this is such a neat ideaaaa and im forever thankful for it. Her capes are cool too I guess, with there was more variety rather than recolors tho. Kinda wish we could also get different outfits for her tho. Those jeans probably chafe.

CONS

THE OPEN WORLD IS SO BIG FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. I honestly wish this wasn't an open world game tbh, its so unnecessary. Halfway through the game, i got so frustrated and ignored everything that wasn't story points cuz getting everywhere takes so damn long, especially early on when you dont have fancy parkour or stamina. Easily its biggest fault for me.

I understand they thought it'd do way better than what happened but planning out a story as a trilogy in the gaming industry is not a smart move. I've yet to play the dlc so idk if we get closure but the loose ends werent a great way for the game to end.

Oh, the dialogue. Its easily one of the gamest weakest points. Like the type of dialogue i was writing in my original stories when i was 13 (not that ive gotten any better tbh). Basically, it's not what you expect from such a vaunted company. Frey is great when shes excited or angry, which is most of the time, but occasionally, they'll hit me with the cheesiest line I've heard in years, and idk how to handle it. Like the stuff she says in the final chapter is honestly so robotic, there is no natural flow present. Which is a pity cuz the actress was killing it tbh, like she definitely carried the lines with her emotion. Unfortunately, it couldn't save them. Like if it was something they dropped on ps3 or wii, it honestly would have done fine. What i mean to say is the dialogue is very outdated in this age of gaming. im actually surprised how out of touch it feels. Especially since otherwise its a solid game all around. Regarding Cuff and Frey banter you do have the option to make it less frequent or just turn it off but i never really found them annoying regardless.

Maybe its just me but the control scheme feels so weird, the games makes you feel like you should be gliding most of the time but holding O while spaming all those trigger buttons feels so awkward to me. But then again I also didnt care enough to change the control scheme so.

Vivian mentions of being proud of her digestion. I was thinking with that and how she keeps stuff inside her as something akin to tattoos, does she get better with age on how she steers what she digests and how much? Like say, could she rend a snake of its flesh leaving only the bones? And also I'm curious about her habits to store stuff in herself :)

Yeah, she could do that when she's older. Though I don't think she would, there's not much point to it lol. Also while yes, she could store objects in her body, she probably wouldn't unless it looked cool visually, i.e. tatoos. All the effort she puts into shapeshifting is focused on creating a nice/cool-looking appearance. She doesn't care about practicality.

Also, I'd like to mention that in the comic where she says she worked really hard on her digestive system, she's not talking about how she's proud of her ability to digest things, shes talking about how she's contained where she digests things into the same area where it'd be on a human. Most slimes will have food digesting just like in their face area lol.

Written the 04/06/2021

You are already a cyborg ~

Your body doesn't have a perfect distinction between you and your clothes and your car and your glasses and your wheelchair and your immune system is hacked by vaccines since you were a kid and we're all already cyborgs

Cyborg is accepting new things to be a part of your body and identity and deciding you have the right to modify it to suit your needs.

Try the binder, try the testosterone, try the cane, try the piercing, try the meds, try the colored hairs

You don't end where your skin end. You end where your conscience of yourself end, and the version of you who exists in your head is as valid as you are in shared reality

I'm a cyborg, and there is no strict border between me and my dog and my wheelchair and my red hairs and my computer and my tatoos and my artificial hormones and my hacked immune system and the image you all have of me

I am something greater than the sum of its parts

And so are you.

I grew up terrified of needles, terrified of anything that would touch or modify my body. My clothes were only there to make me disappear. My dad was firmly anti bodmods.

But this is my body, not my dad's. He doesn't have the experience of not recogizing himself in the mirror for 18 years. He doesn't engrave his memories on his skin. He didn't have to fight for years to be himself, to be recognized as himself.

This is your body, so make yourself at home.

Cyborg is kind, Cyborg is trans, Cyborg is cripplepunk, Cyborg is the version of yourself that is not how everyone expected you to grow up

It is full of your mistakes and humanity and disabilities and sexuality and invention and relationships and traumas

We never stop mutating

Artistic Movements in Arcane: Punk

This is part three of a series of analysis’s of the influence of real life art movements in arcane (part one). The first analysis focused on Art Deco, which is pretty much Piltover™ (but don’t worry, there’s more). The second analysis took place in Zaun, with its swirls of Art Nouveau. This is now the third analysis. We’ll be staying down in Zaun to take a look at:

PUNK

Most people are familiar with or have at least seen the punk art movement. If not, where have you been in the past 50 years? But, to recap, punk was a music scene that evolved in the 70s rejecting the excess of previous rock and roll bands. Songs were short, fast, loud, and angry. A core of punk was the anti-establishment and political sentiments. 

Punk music inspired a whole new subculture of fashion and visual art as well. The visual side of punk mirrors the feel of the musical and ideological side: sharp, antiestablishment, and do-it-yourself. Blacks, reds, bold lines, and bold colours are hallmark features of punk art. Common materials are leather, metal studs, and more industrialised cloths. Hair, tatoos, and piercings are often on the adventurous side. Punk art and fashion is also intentionally loud and doing its best to not be “refined” and “proper”. 

Even though this series is more focused on visual art, specifically character design, and some narrative decisions, punk is so rooted in music that I’ll also be paying some extra attention to the musical scores of Arcane as well. 

BACKGROUND CHARACTER DESIGN

Because punk has a heavy fashion scene, Arcane mainly uses it in a visual context during Zaunite character design. Here are a few background/side characters:

Take a good look at their hair, tats, leather, and studs. These background characters are from many different parts of Zaun. Some work for Silco, some are Firelights, and some just frick around and have no possible indications of who they are loyal to. But they all dress very punk. Not all background characters in Zaun dress punk, but quite a few have at least elements of it.

Punk has historically been a product of the British, and later the American, working class. It has been their struggles and frustrations poured out into music and dress. The hard, angry music and explicit political dissent from being fucked over resonated with these people. And Zaun resonates with that too. Piltover and the ruling elite have failed them. Stupid corruption and corporate greed has gotten in the way of just getting access to clean water and having enough to eat. There is literally no reason for them not to be angry. Piltovan culture is not something they can latch onto, so they have created their own Zaunite culture that pushes against everything Piltover stands for.

MAIN CHARACTER DESIGN

Obviously, our three main Zaunite characters will probably have some punk influence.

JINX

Let’s start with Jinx. She is someone who has not just been hurt by the system, but has actually lost her sanity because of it. She’d need intensive trauma therapy to piece herself back together, at least at this point of the story. Not that she’d be able to afford it, deal with classist Piltovan psychologists, or escape a feeling of stigma for getting help, if therapy even exists in Runeterra. Maybe I’m projecting. But literally everyone needs therapy in this show. It’s depressing.

Jinx has had hints of punk in her since the Powder days, though I would classify her at this stage as emo/scene than punk. Emo does derive from punk though, so let’s analyse. A quick little background on emo might be apt, in case you don’t already know. Emo originated from hardcore punk around the 90s and 2000s. Emo is a lot more about inner feelings and a bit less political. Themes that feature depression, sadness, being outcast, and shyness are common. Definitely in tune for Jinx. Powder is definitely very 2000′s in some manner. The layering, stripes, and leggings feature very prominently on her. The colour palette is somewhat toned down, but it gives her a more moody, introspective look.

Here’s something to compare her to:

As Powder becomes a teen, she becomes Jinx. Her fashion has changed, as does most people’s when they hit that weird mess of hormones.

Her colour palette has stayed pretty similar, but the emphasis has changed. And it looks the short pants, arm warmers, and worn boots were her old childhood clothes, but modified to a) fit her, and b) look edgy, because no teen enjoys dressing like they’re eight. There are a lot more jagged, hard edges with her. She could still be considered an emo, but she is more in line with punk. Her hate of the establishment and status quo has only grown with time, she is filled with rage, and she loves pushing the boundaries. Jinx is not the shy little Powder anymore. Her punk vibes in contrast to her emo vibes are really symbolic of how she’s changed and who she is now. 

The delicate irony is that now she works for Silco, who is a firm, hard authority in Zaun. Silco is a man who claims to fight the authority, but just becomes a tyrant in his own right. Many subsets of punk rock are anarchist, but there are such this as fascist punks (though most punks do not accept them) who really fit that irony. These fascists call themselves punk, but punk is about freedom, and fascism is about controlling the masses. I would put Jinx in a fascist punk category. Sure, Piltover sucks, but Silco’s reign of terror is just as bad, if not worse. A lot of people turn towards an authoritarian regime or authoritarian ideals because these ideals make them feel special. They are usually lacking structure in their lives, whether it is not having a loving figure at home, mental health, financial ills, or trauma such as grief. Jinx is hugely at risk. When these dictators and ideals come up, they appeal to someone. They promise power while systematically taking it away. They hold you on a pedestal. Their ideals are your new support system, reason to cling on. This is what Silco did with Jinx. He gave her power and support through his regime. And not only that, Silco took her in as a daughter. When a parent is entrenched in these ideals, you are more at risk to take them on. Silco genuinely loves Jinx and does his best as a parent, and there is a lot of care in their relationship. But that doesn’t mean it is anything near a healthy relationship, or that there aren’t toxic bits.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There is more coming up about Vi, Ekko, the music, and some other bits of art. Punk is the longest one yet, as it’s the movement I am the most familiar with. I was also super busy with APs and going on holiday, so now that I am back, I will release this part instead of waiting for ages to post the entire thing at once.

49 51 68 for math asks!

49. What’s your favorite number system? Integers? Reals? Rationals? Hyper-reals? Surreals? Complex? Natural numbers?

I am an algebraist, a formal logician, and a computer scientist. My heart belongs to the natural numbers. Which, if anyone cares, does include zero god dammit!!!

51. Favorite casual math book?

Y'know, I don't think I've ever actually read any of these! Does Gödel, Escher, Bach count? Is that sufficiently casual? Also any recommendations, anyone?

68. Do you want any math tatoos?

Hadn't considered it, but getting something mathy inked permanently on my skin would be pretty fuckin hot of me I think. Maybe the Cayley graph of F₂? Much to consider 🤔

just to prove we are still here

star wars / kenobi series — obi-wan kenobi/original character (sivala sylwiri). 1.7k. first kiss stuffs :) 

A smuggling route brings Sivala near the Tatoo System for the first time since Obi-Wan gave her his location. Domesticity ensues. 

When she does finally kiss him, it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s morning on Tatooine. The twin suns have already begun to burn over the horizon; sweat gathers on Sivala’s brow, even if it’ll be hours yet until high noon, when the heat becomes truly unbearable. Her layers itch uncomfortably against her damp skin. She only makes it a few minutes past dawn before she’s shrugging off her over-tunic and leaving it folded on the bed her and Obi-Wan have shared for the last three days.

Shared. Sivala hasn’t had a bedmate since she was a Padawan. Not that— that’s not what he is, exactly. She’s woken tangled in his arms every morning since she arrived, and the thought of sleeping without him is so impossible that she’s concerned for the coming nights after she leaves, but they haven’t… touched. In that way. Honestly, Obi-Wan was once so renowned for his adherence to the Code that she’s not sure he’s ever touched anyone like that.

Not that she’s asked him, exactly. It’s a thought she’s considered now and again; perhaps more frequently since landing on Tatooine, where she can feel the rise-then-fall of his chest against her bowed spine at night. It’s so much harder to lapse back into loneliness when he’s within arm’s reach, tangible and solid and alive.

On some level, she understands that these kinds of ideas are unworthy of a Jedi; that the path of attachment all-too-frequently leads to the dark side. But here, that doesn’t seem to matter so much. The Code, the Jedi, her vows— strangely enough, it all seems so far away when she’s around her old comrade. There’s just… this. The quiet hum of his vaporator under the hiss and spit of breakfast rehydrating in his kitchen; the low whisper of the wind rushing through the stone chambers of his home. All the domestic sounds of the life this man has made space for her within, however temporary it is.

Make no mistake, this is still an alien environment to picture him in. He was once more suited for the cushy interiors of Coruscanti apartments than anything else, after all. But in the details— yes, there’s something of him there. How organised the space is; the few shabby books he keeps on-hand, stacked neatly in the corner. Even the pale browns and muted oranges of the cave fit him, so that there’s something… soothing about this place she’d never seen before four days ago. 

His aura has always been blue, in her mind’s eye. Maybe she should reconsider.

“Breakfast,” he calls, footsteps shuffling over stone. 

Still halfway through packing away the blankets — as they have to do every morning, she’s learned, or else the sand will get into them by night — Sivala hums and gives him a distracted smile over her shoulder.

“Give me a minute.”

It takes some manoeuvring, but eventually she gets the fabric into place and locks the box away. Then she heaves a sigh and straightens, dusting her hands on her legs once, twice, three times. The sand on Tatooine. It gets everywhere.

“What are we eating?”

The light streams in behind him through the crevasse on the other side of the cave, so when she turns to look at him, she’s blinded for a moment. Long enough for him to cross the cramped space in only a few strides, then offer her one of the plates with a look she’s tempted to name sheepish.

“Hardly a local delicacy, I’m afraid. There’s little in the way of foraging all the way out here.”

Sivala reaches out, peering at it cautiously. It doesn’t look bad, thankfully; just sticky rice and rehydrated fruit, which is better than the carefully-rationed breakfasts they used to share in the old days, at least. She goes to say as much— and then realises he hasn’t let go of the plate yet, and neither has she.

The back of his hand is warm under her palm and questing fingers; calloused and somehow fragile. And it’s suddenly the simplest thing in the world, to lean forward and kiss him in thanks. Like something she’s been doing her whole life. Like— like something she’s meant to do every morning until that life ends.

It’s only quick. A peck. More than reflex; less than conscious choice. She can still feel the brush of his beard against her chin when she pulls away, like a bee sting. It’s a somehow pleasant kind of burn.

“Oh,” he says, afterwards.

Just that. ‘Oh.’ Nothing else. 

Sivala studies him thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing. She doesn’t— think it was unwelcome, or it doesn’t feel like it should be unwelcome, but she suddenly finds herself a little less certain than before. He doesn’t seem repulsed, at least. More than anything, he just looks startled; the lips she just touched part slightly around a hitched breath, his brows arching over wide blue eyes. 

And his aura has gone oddly quiet — after so long alone, she misses its low buzz, just a heartbeat away. But it isn’t panic that rises in her as she watches and waits. It’s… it’s something else. Something more cautious; not like facing an enemy, but like going into battle together again. Like placing her trust and her life in his hands the way she used to.

One of those hands twitches under her own now. Sivala licks her suddenly-dry lips, and he audibly swallows. She watches the movement of his throat under his beard and can only think, beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“Right,” he murmurs, more to himself than her. “Yes.”

“Obi-Wan—”

He puts the plates down on the hunk of rock they’ve been using as a table for the last few days. First his, pushed by the fingers she isn’t touching. She expects him to release her so he can put down the other, but he doesn’t; he just switches hands and places the plate beside his own. Like… like he doesn’t intend on letting her go.

When he turns back to her, he says so softly, “wait.” Like a plea.

So she does.

His hand turns in her own until their fingers tangle; his are oddly cold, for how hot the planet is, and on instinct, she tightens her grip until their palms brush. Something electric and alive shoots up Sivala’s spine at the touch, and she wants— she wants to pull away, or maybe she wants to lean in, but she does neither. Just inhales carefully. Exhales. Watches him watch her.

Watches him— step into her, his face set. He’s drawn close enough now that her arm has to bend at the elbow to accommodate his grip, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s… it’s strangely nice. She can’t remember the last time she stood this close to someone that wasn’t trying to kill her. She’d forgotten what it felt like.

“Obi-Wan,” Sivala whispers, his name plush and sweet and familiar on her tongue.

He shudders out a breath. Again: “Wait.”

With his free hand, he cups her jaw. His pulse throbs through his palm and into her teeth; she could count his heartbeats like this. Count the greys threading through his temples. Count his eyelashes.

She doesn’t do any of those things. She just— waits.

And then, between one moment and the next, he kisses her. He kisses her, and it’s achingly gentle. Like the press of his chest against her back in bed, Obi-Wan’s kiss isn’t an assumption or an imposition; it’s a comfort. Not alone, thumps her heart in triple-time. Not alone anymore.

Maybe he deepens it. Maybe she does. She’s not— things get a little blurry once his mouth opens against hers and she tastes his breath for the first time. Cinnamon and fruit and something spicy on her tongue. Home, for all she never thought it had a taste.

He makes a fragile little noise in the back of his throat, and that has a taste, too, something sharp and cold but somehow refreshing, like ice water behind the teeth. Leaning into him, she chases the sound with a small sigh of her own, luxuriating in the slow ease that kissing him brings with it. It’s like working through Shien manoeuvres before the sun rises, or the way that meditation used to feel to her. It’s— peaceful.

His fingers tremble ever-so-finely where they touch her cheek. With her free hand, Sivala follows the curve of his forearm from inner elbow all the way to wrist; encircles the delicate map of bones and veins between her fingers, and rubs her thumb over his pulse. 

Not alone, she thinks again, this time for his benefit, because she sees no need to guard her mind here. You’re not alone.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitches, his grip on her cheek solidifying slightly as the knowledge settles over them both like a cloak or a warm blanket; a shield against the cold. Their kisses slow, become more lingering, unwilling to part for long. The whole planet has gone silent, but it’s not the kind she usually hates. It’s… reassuring. There’s only this: only them and the air between them and the feeling of relief that comes from it, like finally dousing a rotten wound in bacta.

He barely pulls away, resting his brow on hers, and Sivala feels his reluctance to put any distance between them like it’s her own. Honestly, at this point, it could be. It’s somehow harder to tell the difference between him and her, now, here, with Obi-Wan’s presence wrapped around her as it is. 

She lets herself live in that cottony ambiguity for several more moments, just committing the feeling of it all to memory. In what’s probably the closest to meditation she’s come to in some time, she finds herself picking out the noises around her; his breathing; her heartbeat; a vaporator on the fritz. Such simple sounds, but somehow, they mean so much.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already looking at her. 

“Hello there.”

She huffs a laugh. Presses her forehead more firmly to his. “Hello, indeed.”

There’s a hundred things wrong with the galaxy in this moment. Somewhere, a Force-sensitive child is being ripped away from their mother. Somewhere, an Inquisitor puts a lightsaber through an innocent. Somewhere, goodness is dying.

But here, this morning, there’s breakfast to be eaten and hopefully a few more kisses to be had. So that’s what they’ll do.