These Guys Are So Cute!

these guys are so cute!

Quiet Moments

I decided to write a sweet little bonding moment between Sparks and Thumbs. I am in no shape or form an experienced writer but I hope you all enjoy this bit of fluff before the upcoming angst nonetheless! 

Thanks to @just-another-dreamerr for helping me edit this! :D 

Thumbs belongs to the awesome @oo-hazel-oo !  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of pained cries and screams fills his ears as the smell of blaster fire begins to suffocate him, with a seed of guilt and regret settles and begins to grow in his stomach, all these factors overwhelming the engineer. 

“This is all your fault.”

Sparks jolted awake with a sharp gasp. Taking in his surroundings, he tried to slow his elevated heart rate. The sound of his brothers’ snores and relaxed breaths reminds him that he was on the Clover. With a tired sigh, he got up from his bed and walked out of the room to avoid waking anyone. The engineer leaned against the now closed door with a tired sigh.

 ‘Well, at least I tried.’ He thought to himself as he ran a hand through his hair and down his face.

“Sparks?” He looked up to see Thumbs standing a few feet away from him, a concerned expression evident on his face. 

“Thumbs, hey.” Sparks straightened up, stepping away from the wall. “What are you doing up?” he asked, trying to seem casual.

 “It’s my turn to keep watch of the ship.” Thumbs stepped next to him, gently putting a hand on his often-stoic brother’s shoulder. “Why are you awake?”

 Sparks turned his head to look at the floor. “Ah, I just … I couldn’t sleep. That’s all.” He looked up at him, giving him a small, forced smile. 

Thumbs, unconvinced at his brother’s response, gave his shoulder a comforting pat. “You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know.” He responded quietly. “Thank you.” The corners of his lips quirked up slightly, giving a quick genuine smile. Thumbs returned the smile with one of his own. 

’`Would you like to keep watch with me?” he offered. Sparks gave him a nod in response as they both walked to the cockpit of the ship. The engineer spoke up again, his voice almost too quiet to hear, “Thanks again, I needed this.”

 “Anytime, vod.” Thumbs responded as they both sat down looking out at space, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet together.

@lavenderstaars  @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @lusiawonder

@monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @just-another-dreamerr @oo-hazel-oo 

@radbatch @letsunity @generaltano @longearedowlfromouterspace @maygalodon @lynnpaper @stereotypicalpicnicmat and anyone else I missed! :)

I just need to say this.

If you like Star Wars, and if you have absolutely any compassion, you need to speak up against the colorism and racism in The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch.

I don’t care if you think “unwhitewashtbb” is incorrect about certain things. I don’t care who you like or don’t like in the fandom. This isn’t about supporting a singular individual and something they started. This isn’t about who you like or don’t like. This is beyond one person.

This is about supporting the fans of color. This is about supporting real life people. People who just want to see representation on screen, people who keep getting slapped in the face my mainstream media.

This is about Polynesian fans, who watch Clone Troopers, some of our only representation, be reduced to a Rambo ripoff. This is about watching our round features be erased and replaced by eurocentric standards. This is about Wrecker, Portrayed as the “strong dumb” Clone, looking the most Polynesian. This is about Tech, the smartest Clone, looking white.

This is about Black fans, who’s representation is drawn ashy and grey. Who have to sit and watch character designers disregard their skin and hair texture over and over and over. Who get told “well it’s hard to animate curly hair” or “darker tones are harder to render” whenever they point out the racism. Disney is a billion dollar company. They have the means. It’s not hard. It’s racism.

This is about Asian fans. Who had to relive racial trauma. Who watched as their only representation came in the form of Imperials. Murders. Who watched, as Fennec Shand was designed and animated to look nothing like Ming-Na Wen.

This is about Jewish fans. Who spend every week staring at a greedy lizard be voiced by a Jewish woman, who cares about nothing but money.

It’s about Muslim fans. Who had an entire race based on them. Only for their main representation, a Jedi healer, become a terrorist

This movement isn’t about you. It has nothing to do with who you hate or who you like.

It’s about all the fans of color out there, who feel defeated, degraded, mocked. Who feel ugly in their identity, because they have been tossed aside for so long. Who wanted to be Jedi when they grew up, but now they can’t even image a world without racism.

Fans who feel ignored. And alone.

It’s about standing up for them.

It’s about standing with them.

So say something. Do something.

Please.

Tweet about it. Post about it. Write essays. Email LucasArts and Disney. Support fans of color.

It’s not about a hashtag.

Just speak.

in this house we stan thumbs and his amazing knitting skills

37th Battalion (The Lucky Batch ☘️)

Thumbs is a sweetheart @oo-hazel-oo , and here’s a little ficlet of appreciation for the boy.

Tied together

Thumbs liked to knit.

Ever since the General had gotten him a couple of hooks and needles at his request, he’d slowly but persistently taught himself the ways of weaving: how to hold the thread so that it wouldn’t get tangled, the different kinds of stitches there were, the various patterns… He’d gradually practiced and practiced until yarning over felt as natural to his fingers as pressing the trigger of his blaster.

Brisk would smuggle him thick turquoise wool after a quick trip to the market on Coruscant, sometimes adding some small pastry she had baked herself wrapped neatly and tied with a bow.

Luna would occasionally bring him a bright, rainbow colored yarn that shone in the dark. (He'd always tried to get her to tell him where in the world she got the stuff, but the girl would simply stick out her tongue playfully and cheekily tell him it was "a top-Jedi secret", whatever that meant. He couldn’t help but smile and pat her head.)

His brothers would sometimes pitch in to get him a color he had run out of. He would find the replacement waiting at the end of his bunk, packed in a simple bag with a couple of thumb and heart stickers. Nobody would say anything, but the gesture never failed to make the corners of his lips tug upwards softly.

He could make little gifts for his friends: a sweater for Kenhla, a scarf for Brisk, a pair of fluffy mittens for Luna’s cold hands, pouches for his brother, a blanket for field missions…

War could be way too cold sometimes; he wanted to keep his family warm.

It wasn’t conventional, he knew. A being made for war, weaving socks instead of training his body or his shooting. A part of him whispered that it was useless, ridiculous, completely absurd.

What do you hope to achieve? Are you trying to make amends with these bloody broken hands?

Don't you know you're meant only for pain?

But he liked knitting. It was comforting to feel the yarn slip between his fingers gently, the piece he was working on slowly growing as he added stitches and time into it in the rare moments of quiet between battlefields and screams.

He tied them together carefully; every loop had a place, a role, and the whole thing wouldn’t be the same without each woven yarn tightly tangled into the final piece.

Every finished work, no matter how small, made the world shine a little brighter in his eyes; a little warmer. He’d put a bit of himself in it, a bit of his heart, and that meant something to a clone who’d all his life been told he was nothing. It sometimes meant more than he could ever imagine.

And it was kind of bittersweet, giving someone the thing he’d poured so much time and kindness and effort into, but it was worth it to see the smiles— to make the people he cared about feel loved. There was no more rewarding feeling than the one that bloomed in his chest every time he spotted his brothers or the Jedi wearing the gifts he’d made them, faces beaming proudly, comfortable in their own skin, unlike how he used to feel some times.

As soon as he’d finished his latest project, he’d immediately start with a new one.

After all, knitting was always better than letting his mind wander.

The ridge was half way down the steep, sharp cliff and the torrential downpour wasn’t making the job of carefully making their way through it any easier.

There was a yelp behind him as rocks behind him gave way, and he turned around fast enough to see, amidst the thick water curtain, Boots slipped.

Without a heartbeat of hesitation, Thumbs lunged.

His fingers managed to grasp his and he latched on fast, desperately, willing the world to stop for a moment as his brother dangled over the edge of the cliff, feet kicking wildly for purchase on traitorous rock. He could feel shuffling next to him and the Captain was probably yelling instructions through the coms from the way the sides of his head were buzzing, but he couldn't hear anything but the sharp downpour on his ears and his wildly beating heart.

Don't let go.

He held his brother's hands tightly as the wind roared, rain mercilessly splattering against their armor, so thick and cold he could barely move. His fingers felt numb, absent.

But he forced himself to clutch tighter, refusing to let the clone slip from his grasp. Refusing to give up.

He was not letting go.

With a grunt and a desperate burst of strength, he managed to pull his brother up to the ledge and, as soon as he’d made sure Boots' knees were secure on the ground, he wrapped his arm around him to keep him steady.

To keep him close and reassure himself he was safe; that he was still with him, with them, alive.

A brother had not fallen: Thumbs would never let that happen.

Even with the storm thundering around them, and water running like rivers down their armor, he could feel their frantic breathing, the raging beating of their hearts as the scare slowly washed away with the rain. Willing his knees to stop trembling, he slowly got back on his feet, back pressed hard against the ledge as he helped Boots up, aware about the way his own hand was shaking in his. But he gave him a nod, a reassurance to both of them, and straightened his back.

Standing next to him in line, Sparks placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out from the haze of terrible what ifs, the image of loss that had flashed inside his head in those few moments. He looked up at him and found in his gesture a message of gratitude and approval expressed quietly: good job.

And then they were off again, ears still pounding with adrenaline, feet shaking yet pushing forward. Thumbs tightened his trembling fingers over the slippery surface of the cliff, itching to reach once again to his brothers, to make sure they wouldn’t fall.

He would always keep them together, even if he had to pull every single string in the galaxy to keep his family safe.

@lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @lusiawonder @monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @cosmicghostie @generaltano @radbatch @letsunity @longearedowlfromouterspace @maygalodon @lynnpaper

Ok i have to get in on this!!

channeling those cad bane vibes with the hat

join in!!!

Hi! I got to do the art for another dressupgames.com game!

This one has a vintage western-y theme, & I had a lot of fun drawing it!

You can play it here! 😊

you wHAT???

If you ever need reassurance that you’re smart I’ll share the fact I found out rice isn’t a noodle and it’s actually a plant literally last year

@monako-jinn-stories YES! you are a bold one..

Do you guys want a General Grievous fic?

Yes or yes?