concept: bob ross but he draws ocs instead of landscapes
Bob: And we’re just going to give her a rich backstory. Just the right ammount of angst.
Bob: Now don’t be affraid of a little angst, a little bit of sad helps us remember the happy times.
bob: let’s put in a happy little kink! remember, you can make this kink whatever you want. just make it out of aaanything you feel like! there’s no wrong way to do it.
bob: i think this one’s going to be for tentacles.
bob: Oops, looks like we made this one half-demon and half-angel. But that’s okay. I think we can make something beautiful and original out of it.
bob: We don’t make mistakes. We just have happy accidents.
Blenny is a group of fish which lives on the sea floor. There are many types of blennies. Some of these fishes are very colorful and odd looking.
The above fish is a sailfin blenny. Look at the yellow horns. The blenny looks like a close relative of the dragons.
It’s a tessellated blenny.
It’s a Moyer’s scooter blenny – colorful, is not it?
Yellow watchman blenny.
This blue blenny looks like a cartoon character.
Redspot blenny.
The lawnmower blenny.
The curious blenny comes out to watch the diver.
Panamic fanged blenny
Yellow watchman blenny.
Yellow blenny.
Blue streamed blenny.
Look how diverse and colorful they are.share with friends to see this
They are all very good and wonderful friends, but there are a couple imposters in among them! The moyer’s scooter blenny is actually a dragonet (in the Callionymidae family) while the yellow watchman, yellow and blue streamed are all gobies (Gobiidae). I’m pretty certain the rest are in the suborder Blennioidei which actually is like 5 families but they are all just considered blennies because fish phylogeny is a mess.
That last goby is actually a freshwater goby, a species of Sicyopterus! There are a whole bunch of amazingly colourful freshwater gobies and I adore them all.
But I love all the small benthic fish with all my heart and yes we need more of them all the time forever.
All these people sneering “well how would YOU have done it better?” to people who hated TLJ like there isn’t a simple answer–focus on the stormtroopers.
Keeps Finn center stage. Puts Phasma in a key position for a bigger role. Not to mention it puts Star Wars in the unique position of not relying on the default “blow it up and we win” position. What if the Resistance, with nothing to blow up, focuses on the people? What if it decides to undermine the First Order that way–by attempting to liberate the very people trained to kill them? And who would lead the charge? Finn.
Finn wakes and there is a doctor who rushes in and calmly answers his questions, who helps him extricate himself from his suit with dignity and informs Poe and Leia immediately. They sit him down and talk about their plan–starting a stormtrooper rebellion. It was Poe’s idea, but he wouldn’t have thought of it if he had never met Finn. Leia looks at him critically, and takes his hand. With that touch, they can both feel how powerful the Force is in him.
“You’ll be a symbol of hope,” she says, and Poe beams. There could be no greater compliment from the general. They spend a little time preparing, but they need something else. They need Luke.
Luke Skywalker, in this version, did not run away, did not even consider running away, but rather went looking for the Jedi’s beginnings find the balance of dark and light–Luke Skywalker felt Rey and Finn awaken across half the galaxy, and settled on Ach-To, and waited. And when Rey came to him, he taught her the way he himself had been taught. He had her run. He had her face her demons (in this version, it is less her longing for her parents and more her fear of abandonment), and when she is ready, he lifts his X-Wing out of the sea. She didn’t need to. She already has faith. She started with the trust Luke worked so hard to find.
They leave when she has a vision about Finn being in trouble, because she needs to help her friends. Luke smiles. He knows that feeling.
Meanwhile, there’s another young stormtrooper feeling the stirrings of rebellion inside them. Perhaps it’s Rose. Perhaps she’s a lowly mechanic and kept to herself, kept her head down, just trying to survive. Perhaps her older sister (unrelated by blood, perhaps, but they knew what they were to each other) was still killed as battle fodder and she’s had enough. He didn’t know her but she recognizes him. Pulls him aside to a corridor and hisses “traitor” but she says it with a degree of awe, not condemnation. By the end of the conversation she’s nodding and saying she’ll help. By the end of the conversation, Finn catches himself asking her name and she says “R0S-E23” and he thinks of the flowers Poe showed him on Yavin and he asks if he can call her “Rose”. She beams.
And somewhere out in hyperspace, Luke and Rey and Poe are speeding toward their location–Phasma’s caught the scent, and they’re in danger. Rey could feel it.
They manage to get enough stormtroopers on their side to start a rebellion and symbolically blow up the ship in the process (because they have to blow up something), but Phasma confronts them in a huge hangar bay. Brothers and sisters, face off against each other and Finn has had enough. He walks right in the middle of all the shooting and calls for a cease-fire, his eyes flashing, his stance tall and proud. Everyone knew FN-2187. Everyone knew how high his aptitude was, and of his escape. He’s legendary among the stormtroopers, envied and hated and revered. Phasma screams at them to keep firing but all of them stop and listen. Several of the stormtroopers on Finn’s side forcibly wrestle her to the ground, disarming her and ensuring she doesn’t move.
“My name is Finn!” he calls out, and it echoes through the hangar bays. He is a person. He has a name. He was not born for this, being cannon fodder and less than nothing, and neither were they, he tells them. Some of them shift, unsure of what to believe. Rose, who was wearing her helmet, takes it off and goes to stand by Finn. “My name is Rose,” she says proudly. Another takes their helmet off. And then another. And then another. “There is still hope,” Finn says, looking every single person in the eye that he can. “For a life beyond this. There is still light beyond the darkness.” He turns to Phasma where she is being held on the ground. “Even for you.”
“TRAITOR!” Kylo Ren screams from where he has arrived, one cue, at the end of the hangar bay. Finn, without a lightsaber but still armed, goes to fight him and is losing ground fast, and just as Kylo goes to strike the killing blow, he is intercepted by none of other than Rey. She had built a double bladed lightsaber during her training, and untwists it now, handing one half to Finn. He lights it, and they charge together.
At one point, Kylo Ren escapes to the upper levels of the hangar, and spots Luke, who has been evacuating as many stormtroopers as he can to Leia’s ship. They take Phasma with them as a hostage. Poe, meanwhile, has been coordinating a separate assault as a diversion. “I DESTROYED YOUR ORDER!” Kylo screams, pointing an accusing finger at Luke. “THERE IS NO HOPE LEFT FOR THE JEDI!”
“Wrong,” Luke says, dropping his cloak and striding forward, gripping his father’s lightsaber in his hand, going to stand by his students (for Finn, he knows, will be among the greatest of his pupils). “The word ‘Jedi’ means hope. These two are Jedi, but so are all of those people back there, who you took as children and corrupted. Every spark of light that is still left inside you is the Jedi.”
“Hope is like the sun,” Leia says, striding up in front of her brother and his students and standing, her old lightsaber finally in hand again, blue as the sky of Alderaan. “If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night. And they all will,” she says, nodding back to the stormtroopers. “So can you, Ben. Come with us.”
Kylo hesitates, but ultimately bares his teeth and charges toward his mother, rage radiating off of him like a tidal wave. He never makes it within five feet of her–Luke Skywalker Force-pushes him so strongly he flies a hundred feet down the corridor. Before the hangar doors close, we see his face contorted with rage, and possibly confusion.
They all make it out, and Rey is wondering what they do now, since they didn’t defeat Kylo. Luke puts his arms around both her and Finn’s shoulders, and says, “Now the real training begins.”
A blonde and a lawyer are seated next to each other on a flight from LA to NY.
The lawyer asks if she would like to play a fun game? The blonde, tired, just wants to take a nap, politely declines and rolls over to the window to catch a few winks. The lawyer persists and explains that the game is easy and a lot of fun.
He explains, “I ask you a question, and if you don’t know the answer, you pay me $5.00, and vice versa.”
Again, she declines and tries to get some sleep. The lawyer, now agitated, says, “Okay, if you don’t know the answer you pay me $5.00, and if I don’t know the answer, I will pay you $500.00.”
This catches the blonde’s attention and, figuring there will be no end to this torment unless she plays, agrees to the game. The lawyer asks the first question. “What’s the distance from the earth to the moon?”
The blonde doesn’t say a word, reaches into her purse, pulls out a $5.00 bill and hands it to the lawyer. “Okay” says the lawyer, “your turn.”
She asks the lawyer, “What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs?” The lawyer, puzzled, takes out his laptop computer and searches all his references, no answer. He taps into the air phone with his modem and searches the net and the library of congress, no answer. Frustrated, he sends e-mails to all his friends and coworkers, to no avail.
After an hour, he wakes the blonde, and hands her $500.00. The blonde says, “Thank you,” and turns back to get some more sleep. The lawyer, who is more than a little miffed, wakes the blonde and asks, “Well, what’s the answer?” Without a word, the blonde reaches into her purse, hands the lawyer $5.00, and goes back to sleep.
Yooooooooooo now THIS is the kind of blonde jokes I’m about
Aliens have invaded and are taking over. Their technology, intelligence, and power is unstoppable. They just didnt plan on one thing: The old gods returning.
When they first arrived, we were overjoyed. Proof that we weren’t alone
in the universe, that there were other races to share and exchange technologies
with! Their arrival brought about world peace – with other life forms out
there, we needed to present a united front. World hunger and poverty was solved
within a decade, a demonstration to our new friends that we were worthy of the
responsibility of exploring the galaxy.
They disagreed.
They accessed our histories, they saw everything, and they recoiled in
horror. They could not fathom the world we had created, and the solutions we
had brought about not because it was the right thing to do, but to impress
them.
They were not impressed. They told us, regret tinging the translators,
that we could not be trusted as keepers of this world. The damage we had done
was coming close to being irreparable, and for our own good they’d need to take
over.
I have to say, I agreed – humans are terrible. But the funny thing
about humanity is, even if something is right, if it means giving up our
control, it is wrong.
We fought back.
At first we fought back democratically. This race that had descended
from the stars was peaceful, never seeming to favour violence. We didn’t think
they’d start killing indiscriminately. We didn’t think they’d take inspiration
from our own history books.
As with so many other things, we were wrong.
An extreme group of humans succeeded in ambushing and killing several
of their high-ranking Xenos. Human lives were lost in the process, but the
extremists saw that as a necessary sacrifice, a means to an end. The Xenos had
been shown that we wouldn’t tolerate their kind here, that they should leave
and let us get on with things how we always have.
Within days, war had been declared, and we learned why we should have
tried harder. Had they decided to simply fight the moment they touched down, to
systematically advance and wipe out every human life they came across, we
wouldn’t have stood a chance. Their weapons, armour, tactics, the sheer
firepower and the size of their armies were beyond comprehension. Out of rage
and grief, they marched over us, and began the slow process of wiping us out.
Bullets couldn’t pierce their armour and shields, rockets fell to the ground
lifeless, and even nuclear devices were somehow disabled mid-flight.
Still we fought back. Humans never have figured out how to give up when
all hope is lost.
There was no formal resistance of rebellion, we simply gathered,
fought, and survived where we could. When something new happened, it took
weeks, months, to reach every last survivor.
And then, something unbelievable happened.
Stories started filtering through to the pockets of us in hiding, strange
stories – a freak electrical storm in Greece that appeared from a clear blue
sky and wiped out a thousand of them in less than 15 minutes; Xenos impaled on
braches of rare trees, some kind of grisly warning that we chalked up to particularly
violent survivors in that area; whole armies frozen to death because the
temperature around them had dropped too quickly for their environmental suits
to keep up with. Freak weather patterns that worked in our favour, violent
survivors, terrain they couldn’t navigate. That’s what we told ourselves when
the stories filtered through.
But then they got weirder. There were stories of Xenos being swallowed
by the ground itself. A pack of wolves, larger than anything ever before seen
appeared from a crack in a mountain range to storm through an encampment and
kill every last Xenos. There was a massive surge in the number of corvids
around the world, and they always seemed to congregate where the Xenos were
thickest… days before something killed everything. Then they’d vanish, and more
corvids would appear somewhere else. Harbingers, just like the old tales.
One day a massive seafaring vessel chasing a fishing trawler was pulled
under the water – no reefs or icebergs in the area, and the sea mines had long
been disarmed and deactivated. I spoke to a man who had been in the sloop
running from the Xenos ship, and he swore blind the Kraken had got it, the
tentacles alone bigger than the tiny boat he’d been huddled on. He shuddered
and drank too much, and I put it down to hallucinations caused by a bad batch
of moonshine. There was no such thing as monsters.
Then we heard about warriors. We heard about chariots, of all things,
chasing down whole platoons of Xenos in Egypt, chariots so bright it felt like
staring into the sun; a huge hound with three heads was spotted in Greece, a
man in shadows and a woman of light removing the leash as Xenos advanced on
them; a woman showed up in Iceland standing head and shoulders above the
tallest man there, with an army of her own. They didn’t seem to fall in battle,
and pushed the Xenos back, fighting with sword and shield and spear, a fury
that our alien invaders couldn’t match.
Humanoid creatures with eyes of fire supposedly began granting wishes
over in Syria, as long as your wish was for them to kill your enemies. There
were sightings in Ireland of pure white horses, horses that once ridden wouldn’t
let you off, that dragged people into bogs and rivers. Tales came out of brazil of monstrously large snakes, sometimes
with the faces of women, dragging aliens into the gloom of the rivers and
rainforests.
But there’s no such thing as monsters.
I finally believed when I saw three women facing down the largest army
of Xenos I’d ever come across – at least twelve thousand by my counting. I’d
been running from a scouting party, and when I stumbled out of the treeline onto
a road I realised they’d chased me right into the path of the oncoming horde.
The moment you face your death is a strange one. Everything felt calm
except the thundering of my pulse in my ears, and the crows that seemed to come
from nowhere to blot out the sun.
Then three women strolled into the road in front of me, placing
themselves between me and the advancing army. A young woman, barely out of
girlhood; someone who could have easily been my mother; and a woman so old she
was almost bent double. It was the oldest who strode towards the mass of Xenos
without any fear, leading the other two towards their deaths, and the din of
the crows got louder.
The youngest one glanced my way and smiled playfully, and something
from my grandmother’s tales made me flatten myself to the ground, hands clamped
firmly over my ears.
The scream started low, in the back of the old woman’s throat,
travelling through the ground and making every bone in my body shudder with the
vibration. Realisation began to dawn on me as Maiden and Mother joined in with
their Crone, and the scream climbed to a crescendo that could have shattered glass.
Even with my hands tight over my ears it pierced me to my core, a screaming
agony that made me want to curl in on myself and die.
I survived because it wasn’t meant for me.
The Xenos, however, felt the full force of the rage these women contained.
An entire planet’s worth of grieving poured out of them in this shriek, rooting
their enemies to the ground with the difference in tone and pitch between these
three women telling their stories.
The mother stood tall and resolute, screaming her grief at these
invaders, a mother mourning all of her children.
The crone’s low snarl was that of war. Weary of the fighting but always
ready to defend what’s hers, she growled her challenge, and the Xenos couldn’t
stand against it.
The maiden was hope, the only act of defiance in a world on the edge of
ruin. When everything was dust, when the last stragglers of humanity were
contemplating giving up, she was the hope that kept them fighting.
Part of me wondered how many shirts they’d washed, how many rivers they’d
wept together, before standing up and saying “no more.”
The scream stopped abruptly, leaving me feeling like the breath had all
been sucked out of me, a void in the air around me that rushed back in and
filled my lungs with a long, shuddering gasp.
I opened my eyes to carnage. The Xenos had died where they’d stood,
their organs haemorrhaging, what passed for blood pouring from every orifice,
their eyes turning to liquid in their skulls. Bodies were everywhere, and the
crows circling overhead had fallen silent, uninterested in the feast this must
have surely been for them.
The Morrigan was one woman now, ageless and terrifying.
“Get up, child.” She commanded, and I had no choice but to obey,
trembling legs pushing me to my feet. She reached out a hand, and gently wiped a
trail of blood away from my ear. “Did you really think we’d abandoned you?” She
murmured, and the crows descended, carrying her to the next battle.
Monsters are real, and some of them look like people. But the Gods are
also real, and they still believe in us.
So I’m still fighting, and my battle cry is full of hope.
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