#air quotes THE I N T ER N E T

[theundiagnosable]

just because someone is doing stupid shit on ““the internet““ doesnt mean people dont have the right to be angry

people still do stupid and reprehensible shit and people have the right to be mad or upset whether its online or in person stupid shit being done online doesnt make it any less stupid the nature of the internet may be that shit you dont like happens and that sucks, but it doesnt mean people dont get to be angry when someone out there does something bad its okay to be angry at trolls, they still suck. they dont suck less because its the internet. peoples anger isnt less warranted because its the internet. its good to expect stupid shit to happen, but you are still allowed to be angry. it being “the internet” is not an excuse just because theres a screen in between us doesnt mean someone ISNT doing stupid bullshit

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @rhysintherain, who sent me the following prompt when I requested fic ideas a week or two back:

Hector - "Maglubiyet eats whole cows. Does Selune eat whole cows?"

I googled this to see if it was a quote from something, and the only result was a forum post about Siege of Dragonspear, so I'm assuming this is a quote from that? The forum post was in Russian though so I'm not sure. XD Anyway - I went goofy with this and had a lot of fun writing it; hope you enjoy!

-----

“Oi! Lookit this new meat!” one of the goblins barks.

Hector flinches. Too much to hope, I suppose, that we’d simply enter unnoticed. The goblin camp is a chaotic, noisy mess, but even so, he and his companions stick out like sore thumbs. The only person more out of place than himself is the bard being forced to perform on the dais at the other end of the courtyard, whose strident vocalizations add a definite edge to the whole ambience.

The goblin - a stout, bow-legged specimen with a heavy scar over one eye - waddles a little closer to Hector and examines him from head to foot. Then he bursts out with a high-pitched giggle, pointing at Hector’s face. “Ahahaha! ‘e fell for the worg shite trick. Lookit you, fresh meat-- so sweet-smellin’!” He pokes at Hector’s thigh with one long-clawed finger.

Hector manages a pained smile, wiping absently at the dung currently painted across his cheeks. “Just getting into the spirit of the festivities,” he murmurs.

The goblin roars with laughter. “The spirit! Aye, that’s the word, eh? Last one of us got so into th’ spirit was ol’ Chizzo - got too off his ass and fell face-down in the latrine. Drowned there,” he says pensively, tapping his jaw. “But plenty of spirit in ‘im beforehand.”

“I see,” Hector says neutrally. This is not the sort of conversation a life of seclusion prepared him for. “My condolences for your loss?”

The goblin snorts. “Yer wot?”

“My sympathies. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” The goblin snickers. “Nah, didn’t like that fucker anyway. But what’s yer story, tallboy?” he asks, downing a mouthful of ale and leaning up against a nearby stone pillar. “You hear the calling too?”

The calling. That voice that threw him to his knees in the roadway, no doubt. The voice of the ‘Absolute.’ Hector frowns. It goes against every fiber of his nature to pretend even for a moment to give allegiance to this strange little cult; lying is not in his skillset, nor is blasphemy. But they need to maintain cover and avoid attracting suspicion if they’re going to find Halsin.

“Yes,” he says carefully. “I heard the calling.”

It’s not precisely a lie, is it? He certainly heard something.

“Yeah,” the goblin says, satisfied. “True Soul, you are, right? Real ‘ell of a thing, innit? Like thunder.”

“You’ve heard it, then?” Hector asks.

The goblin hesitates, then shifts uneasily. “Well, not heard it, heard it. But everyone around talks about it. ‘s only the True Souls what get to hear ‘er for real.”

“Pity,” Hector says, a touch wryly. “Perhaps you’ll earn the honor in time.”

The goblin puffs up eagerly. “Damn right I will. Priestess says I’m close in line.” And then another brief, almost imperceptible hesitation. “Been real devout ‘n everything. Maglubiyet be damned.” His eyes widen fractionally and he gives a slight, nervous giggle. “Praise the Absolute!”

“Praise,” Hector agrees. 

In spite of his best efforts, his expression must show some of his discomfort, because the goblin leans forward suddenly with a conspiratorial air.

“Ain’t as easy as they say, is it?” he mumbles confidingly. “Can’t just turn it off. Absolute’s way better, mind you,” he adds hurriedly. “Just takes some doing t’ remember it.” He squints up at Hector and takes another gulp of his drink. “You left summat behind too, eh? Can see it in yer eyes. Who was yer god, before th’ Absolute opened you up?”

Hector clears his throat. “I was a follower of Selune,” he says gravely. And still am, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oi,” the goblin says thoughtfully. “Never heard of ‘er. Big shot, like?”

“You could say that.” Hector feels like his ears are on fire. Forgive me this irreverence, my Lady; it’s only in pursuit of the truth… “No candle to the Absolute of course.”

“Right. Right,” the goblin agrees. “Nor Maglubiyet either. It’s only little bits I miss, y’know? Not th’ power and th’ might an’ all, but the little bits. We ‘ad a song to Maggy as we’d sing after a raid--” He throws his head back and bawls a rambling melody aloud with such sudden volume that it makes Hector jump. “Magluuuuuubiyeeeet… smell our foe's blood warm and weeeeet…” 

He trails off, then hastily downs the rest of his mug. “But no more o’ that, not round here.” His tone takes on a distinctly mournful note. “Like givin’ up an old spear what ain't sharp no more. But it was a good spear, f'r all that…” 

He purses his lips thoughtfully. “All praise t’ the Absolute, but she's all… clean-like, y'know? Just a voice, ‘n all. With Maggy, you knew where y’ stood. He was just like us, only bigger - you knew he'd get his hands all bloody like us, ‘n drink ale like us, ‘n eat meat like us…”

He sways a little on his feet. The drink is starting to take hold of him, the words becoming less guarded. “Maglubiyet eats whole cows,” he points out solemnly. “Never catch th’ Absolute eatin’ a whole cow.” He squints up at Hector, eyes mildly unfocused. “Does Selune eat whole cows?” 

“...No,” answers Hector, bemused. 

“Right,” the goblin growls, suddenly irritable. “Fuck ‘er too, then. Bet she's another-- just a fuckin’ voice.”

Hector can't help himself. He straightens up to his full height and frowns, crossing his arms. “I will have you know that the Moonmaiden is far more than a simple voice; she--”

“Ahem.” Astarion takes a sudden step forward into view and squints arrogantly down at the goblin. “Was that Maglubiyet I heard you speaking of? And Selune? I suppose I'll be reporting to your superiors, all this talk of other gods...”

The effect is electric. The goblin's dark green skin pales by about three shades and his air of inebriation vanishes. “Wot?” he yelps. “Nope, nope, no sir, nothing a’ the kind here, not by any measure! Never said a word! Praise the Absolute!” 

Before any of them can respond, he turns and scurries off into the crowd, crashing unsteadily into the edge of the dais where the bard is singing. 

Hector watches him go, then turns and gives Astarion a narrow look. “That wasn't particularly kind of you,” he says reprovingly.

Astarion snorts. “I had to do something, darling,” he points out dryly. “If I'd let you get into full voice, we'd have been here all afternoon. And I don't know about you, but I can think of little that is less appealing than standing about watching someone else debate philosophy with a goblin.”

[writtenfan]

“I think I’ll be having more than just a taste.”

Alfred Pennyworth x FemReader

Something i’ve kept in my draft for too long, thought i was going to go further but i lost the inspiration so i’m just posting it! 

“Oi, come ‘ere.” You feel a hand gently clasp your shoulder and spin you around towards them holding back chuckles they gestured at a wooden bowl. “You see this?” of course, it was Alfred. Wearing a fine white apron with a brown border, knotted snugly around his waist. Looking at you with astonished yet tickled cute blue eyes that made you grin.

You start laughing as you craned your head to look into the bowl, you then try to turn away from him in embarrassment. But with an, “Ah ah ah!” he snatches you back up, wrapping his arm around your arm planted against the side of your shoulder holding you against his side making sure your view was back towards the bowl.

“Come on’ I’m serious. Look at it!”

You looked at him with a smile and you watch the corners of lips fight a smile with no avail. He had told you once that he often got lost looking into your (e/c) eyes and this was an instant that reflected just that because he seemed trapped in them. You felt so nervous starring at him so closely because you felt as if you could see into his soul and feared what you would see. You shifted your body a bit, darting your eyes away from his face. His grip which was, firm yet comfortable.

He blinked his eyes as he realized how possibly awkward that could have been and shifted forward towards the counter, moving his arm around your other like you two were about to do a cheery little skip and pointed at the bowl again with furrowed eyebrows that weren't coming across as the level of annoyed he wanted.

“I'm looking, I’m looking!” you then snatched the bowl up and raised it in front of his face,  turning towards Alfred’s chest  and  you watched his hand drop  slowly as you greeted him with a face to face scoff and a daring  “What’s wrong with it?!”

You hear a person clear their throat behind you, “I should have warned you (y/n). Alfred is very particular about his cooking…” Your heart jumped at Bruce’s sudden words and you crossed your arms and with a nervous laugh, turning towards him to cover up any suspicious body language you had before.

Alfred turned around slowly as he stood by your side with one hand behind is back nodded furiously and gestured over to Bruce.

“Yes Master Bruce you bet I bloody am!” he then points at you and them him  “and what did I tell you both?!”  Bruce sighed “ To stay-“ but Alfred promptly interrupted gesturing all around the kitchen  “Stay out of thiiiiiiiss area, Got it? I mean, cause clearly!” He gestures his hand towards you and lets out a distressed breath of air.

You furrow your brow and stab a finger at him with a smile.

“Come on Alfred, I don’t see what’s wrong with it!”

His eyes widened “Oh no? well that’s not the best of it!” he reaches next to him and pulls another bowl off the counter holding it in front of your face. ���An’ this!..., you have got to be kidding me, t- these slices are mashed, literally!

You snorted and gestured over to Bruce who was standing against the kitchen doorway looking you both with a tiny grin. “This is all Bruce’s doing, he was doing vegetables and I starchs…” you huffed looking away from him fakely peeved “We were trying to make something before you got back!”

“Exactly-“ Bruce walked over in front of Alfred so that you all were in this mini conversation circle. his expression as sincere and frank as always.

“-a poor idea we realized as soon as you shouted, “I’m making Italian for dinner!” adding air quotes for emphasis which made you laugh.

Alfred propped his back against the counter behind him towards Bruce. His legs crossed and hands behind him against the counter's edge.

“I’m ashamed of you Master Bruce, you know I” he points at himself dramatically “who handles all the cooking in this house and ill be having it no other way.” His eyes cut towards you with a sly grin plastered on his face smiled at Bruce and threw a friendly shoulder punch his way, which sparked a boy battle right in front of your eyes. You couldn’t stop grinning as you shouted for them to watch out for the counter,

Bruce had managed to get himself into a headlock and struggled with getting out of it as Alfred held him tightly bending him towards the ground as he looks back up with you with a boy will be boys expression.

“I- I can’t blame you for this miss he’s the one who knows the r-rules” his voice grew throaty as Bruce elbowed him in the chest and managed to stagger behind the man who quickly turned around and grabbed his hands pushing him backward. “Come on Master B- you’ve got be better than that…” 

After a few more jabs between the two Alfred had grabbed Bruce by the back of his collar, holding his arms behind his back as he started pushing him out the kitchen.  “Go on you, aren’t you supposed to be doing that online class? he checked his watch “Come on now its been 15 minutes! Go on boy!” Alfred smacked Bruce right in the middle of his back with a laugh and Bruce smiled with a cough as he headed up the stairs. “I’ll be back (y/n)” he shouted as he walked up the stairs. “Yeah at dinner!” Alfred yelled after him, shaking his head with a smirk.

Alfred was visibly a “tad bit” as he would say it, out of breath and you took special attention to his as his chest as it heaved up and down The apron surprisingly still in place even if the knot was a bit loose. His winded expression left once he caught you looking at him so closely and he cleared his throat, straightened his back, stretched and tapped his chest with a closed fist hardily walking towards you with a victorious gait. “I’m top dog around here as you can see...” He chuckled as he ran his hand along the counter edge as he walked towards you, breathing heavy with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“He knew better…unlike you…” you watched him bite his lip. You straightened up and looked at him with confused eyes backing up a step as he continued walking towards you stopping midway to click on a radio on the windowsill and fiddling with it until it gently sang some smooth jazz.

“W-what do you mean?” he chuckled and moved away from the radio stops when he's a few inches away from you and he could smell how sweet you were, hand still on the counter looking down at you with a restrained focus. “you’ve been challenging my willpower all afternoon love...” You could see every line etched in his face with detail, the sweat as it rolled down his forehead and his neck. From grey hair to eyebrows, you picked up every detail and tilted you head down to be closer to him. 

Soothed by hearing his low exhales and feeling his hand slide underneath yours. Cupping gently warm and bruised fingers against the back of your hand. Slowly raising it up and flipping your hand over so that he could interlock his fingers in yours, tenderly rubbing his thumb across the side of your hand and alongside your knuckles, with a nervous expression that asked you if this was ok which you replied with placing the side your head on the crook of his neck.

His heartbeat raced against his ribs, as he tilted his head down against your face softly resting his cheek against yours as he continued to talk.

“I know we’ve known each other for a while now. But never have you been in the Manor…this long..” his voice was so low and raspy that it made you trembles as if being In the winters chill. 

You both found yourself glancing towards the doorway and were comforted that no one was there. “I find myself finding it particularly hard not to love on you every second your with me.” He takes his other hand and hesitantly and he places it against your lower back and you find yourself being gently guided through a series of slow and gentle circles finding it hard to concentrate on the environment around you and not at him. 

“And having to keep us a secret…” He stops guiding you In circle and instead pulls you back into another section of the kitchen by unlatching the door and closing it behind you both. Gently locking it with ease as you look around this spacious food pantry with light filtering through small colored panels on the top of the walls.

“Has been driving me absolutely bananas.”

[ethereal-twelve]

letting go - twelve x reader

Sorry for being inactive for a while! School has been getting to me lately. But hey, have this mess of angst.

Word count: 2 471

Warnings: Angst, fluff, more angst

Anyone who is interested in the language of flowers might want to sharpen their eyes ;)

She was leaning against the control panel when he returned to the TARDIS. [Y/N] appeared dizzy, but she had her back to him so he couldn’t be sure. His eyes darted to the small black device, carelessly discarded on the floor. A surge of dread shot through his entire body and he rushed to her.

He supported her (b/t) frame, his observation had been right, she was indeed having difficulties standing up on her own. He tried to catch her gaze, but when he finally did, he was terryfied to find that the bright (e/c) was starting to dim. It was as if he could see how the memories were leaving her mind.

And despite all of that, she smiled. It silenced all of his cross and harsh words, made his vision cloud and he had to blink quickly to see her clearly. She lifted her hand, which was a remarkable attempt, (he had to catch it mid-air because there was so little strength left in her body) and cupped his cheek, gently running her thumb over his cheekbone.

“Let’s not argue, “ her voice sounded so small he had to press his lips tightly together to avoid the escape of a pathetic sob.

He cried. It was silent, but the tears streaming down his face had no end to them. The Doctor had never looked like that in front of her. He wanted to tell her how she shouldn’t have, how he would’ve done it in her place. He wanted to, now, because the pain this situation was causing him was too much to bear. She wouldn’t die, but it would still feel as if she did. [Y/N] only shook her head slightly and her eyes started to flutter closed. He wanted to shake her, and he later assumed that he must’ve, but all of it was in vain.

“Doctor, “ she breathed “let me go.”

She fell into unconciousness. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, rocking back and forth, as if to calm a child. He had eased the both of them to the floor at some point and was now glad he did because his knees would’ve surely given out. He felt as if he would collapse any moment although he was already on the ground.

He hadn’t felt so utterly empty for a long time.

---

Living in a lighthouse was a dream she would never get tired of babbling about. She loved the idea of having the sea so nearby and the magnificent telescope she could have at the very top. Not to mention the view. God, she would’ve adored the view.

The dream was rather silly and unreachable, it’s not like she had the money to buy a whole lighthouse, not to mention the sum which would have to be spent on furnishing and heating, for example. The TARDIS always kept her room a few degrees warmer, knowing quite well how sensitive she was to the cold.

The Doctor liked to see her happy, not that he’d ever admit it. But now that she could no longer live on the TARDIS and he couldn’t make her laugh with his odd mannerisms or jokes, he needed to come up with another alternative. He would simply make her believe that, three years ago, she decided that her life was too short to waste. Moved into a lighthouse and concentrated on the things she throughly enjoyed. She used to draw often before, he knew that. When he wandered around in her past he often saw how she sketched in cafés. She had maps full of drawings, tucked under her bed. She didn’t have time for it when their adventures began. He made sure that she had a job which would pay well enough, so that she could have everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

---

“Sorry, is this seat taken?” he lifted his eyes and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

He should’ve said that it was. That a friend would accompany him in mere minutes. A wife. A colleague. Anyone.

He shouldn’t even be there, he should’ve just suffered alone.

She gave him a small smile, tilted her head and a strand of hair fell on her face. She wore it differently now, he noticed. She looked more like her mother and he wondered whether it was intentional. Beams of sunlight carressed her cheek. A cup of tea was balanced on the books she was carrying. His throat went dry, he wouldn’t have to try too hard to make this feel as it did before. As if everything was alright.

“No, “ his voice was surprisingly calm, “not at all.”

He averted his eyes back to the book so he wouldn’t see another smile she would surely send his way.

The small coffee shop was unusually filled this afternoon. Muted chatter and gentle chords of music filled the air. He couldn’t help but study her discreetly. She absent-mindedly stirred her drink, already lost in her own book. A gentle smile adorned his lips, but he quickly willed it away.

“What are you reading?” she brought him out of his reverie.

Yes. Certainly should’ve stayed away.

He held up the cover for her to see. Countless alarms were setting off in his head. Telling him to leave. To run before she would be—

The heavy burden of his thoughts was silenced upon the excited sparkle that appeared in her eyes. How he had missed it.

“You like the stars?” she giddily asked, fiddling in her chair. She always did when she was thrilled.

“Adore them, “ he looked at her meaningfully when he said it, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was fishing another book from her messenger bag. It was easy to talk to her, just as it had been before.

---

“Would you like to come stargazing with me?”

Every Wednesday they met for coffee, he told himself it would be the last time. He never found it in himself to actually do that. It had gone on for far too long. But he needed to see her smile, needed to see her bright eyes and hear her mirthful laughter. He needed her.

“Sorry?” he had been lost in thought again.

“I mean, er—the sky will be clear tonight and I have a telescope, “ she appeared flustered now and a dust of pink covered her cheeks.

He really shouldn’t.

“Please?” a glimmer of hope flickered in her irises ever so sweetly.

“Of course.”

---

She plucked a thick volume from the shelf, flipped to one of the marked pages and quoted some witty line. He assumed it to be Brontë or Austen or some other author she enjoyed but was too unfocused to be sure. The Doctor watched her from the plush sofa, slumped in a cozy position with a book of his own. Something about quantum physics.

The sun was setting and he was momentarily entranced by her wavering shadow. He focused on her. On the way the sun illuminated her figure and caught her eyes for a second when she turned. It made them look brighter than before. Her voice was muffled to him as he watched the way she made enthusiastic gestures with her delicate hands. The sleeves of the jumper she was wearing were bunched up and bulky. It was his, he now realized.

He hadn’t kept track of how long this had gone on. After she asked him to observe the stars with her, he decided not to count. It would’ve just been another burden. He knew he shouldn’t. The fact that he had met her briefly had been bad enough. Now, he was fitting into her life as if he belonged there. He knew he didn’t. Not anymore. He knew he was being selfish. He couldn’t help it.  Not with the way her smile lit up her face every time she opened the door for him.

“I’m getting another headache, “ she complained half-heartedly and plumped down next to him. He stiffened, pretended to be invested in quantum physics. [Y/N] leaned into his side to peek at the page, “ ah, warm, “ the woman pressed herself snugly against him. She often did that now. Affection. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

She curled into his side and he let out a soft sigh, smiling slightly to himself. It was soon wiped away. She had become too comfortable around him, perhaps even more so than before. The thought left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“I’ll take you to bed, you’ll be more comfortable there, “ he muttered after a while, she was drifting to sleep.

“You’re softer than the bed, “ her voice was muffled and his hearts might’ve fluttered a bit. He reached for a blanket and tucked it over the both of them, placed his book aside. He rested his chin on her head and brought her closer with an embrace, felt how a content sigh left her lips.

He would figure something out. He had to.

---

He could see why [Y/N] loved the sea. A storm was brewing up tonight, waves crashed against the coast and the lighthouse, the sky was covered with heavy clouds. The Doctor heard distant thunder and rain was starting to splash against the windows.

Her headaches were getting worse. Deep inside he knew they were caused by his presence. It was straining her mind. He hated himself for it. He had to go before it was too late.

He had heard soft steps approaching him but was still caught off guard when cold arms wrapped around his torso from behind. He stiffened but quickly relaxed. She rubbed her forehead against his back and he knew instantly that she was trying to make the forming pain dissolve.

He turned around, removing the clip holding her hair in a practised manner. Thin fingers were smoothed through her hair a few times before resting on her temples, rubbing small circles to relieve the pain. She had already closed her eyes, humming in appreciation. Slowly, he worked his way to the nape of her neck, massaging the sore spots on her shoulders. It brought her relief, if only a little.

“You should stay tonight, “ she mumbled, lifting her hand to rest on his forearm, the other remained on his back, “ you can’t go out in this storm.”

He didn’t reply, continued his work. He couldn’t stay. That would be stepping over a line, a line that had already been overstepped far too many times.

“It still might quiet down.”

“Will you stay if I tell you I’m scared?” her eyes suddenly snapped open. Recently, it had became harder to look her in the eye. But avoiding her gaze was equally difficult, maybe even more so.

“I know you’re not, “ his tone was a bit firmer, but the pale blue in his eyes remained soft.

“Please stay, “ she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his right cheek, “I don’t want to be alone, “ her lips landed on the left one.

“Perhaps you should find someone, “ he grumbled, the spots where her lips had been hot on his face, but he couldn’t pull away. His hearts were beating hard against his chest.

“Maybe I already have, “ her voice was a bit huffy. But she was staring directly at him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Her eyes flickered to his lips and he swore that she was about to lean closer.

He stepped away. Hands behind his back, eyes on the sea.

“Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it. Next time, you should invite them, “ there was a tightness in his throat that wouldn’t go away. She started to say something, but he didn’t want to hear it. He headed to her enormous bookshelves. Only clipped sentences were exchanged after that, and he did not stay.

---

She had probably just meant to tidy up a bit. No harm in that, except that it was. All harm in the universe, in fact.

He never even thought about hiding away her old sketchbooks. They were mostly landscapes anyway, or buildings. She loved sketching those. The Doctor didn’t know that while they travelled, she had become fond of sketching him. Sometimes just his hair or hands, but there were full body ones as well. He had no idea, otherwise, he would’ve removed them. They had jogged her memory.

After, he mused that the day had been unfairly nice, there wasn’t a single cloud sailing the brilliant blue sky. But maybe that’s how it was meant to be. His sunshine, it was only fair that the day would mirror the grandness that was her. Perhaps, that was exactly how it had to be.

Everything seemed normal at first, he let himself in, she had given him a key. He even hummed quietly, not that he would admit how excited he was to see her.

All of his thoughts were wiped from his mind when he entered her living room. There were loose leaf drawings and sketchbooks scattered on the ground. Her bright yellow vase was broken on the floor, pink camellias that he had brought her a day prior discarded on the carpet.

She was slumped against the glass door, clutching her head.

He already felt the tears coming and tried to blink them away as he ran to her. He knew what this was, tried to not concentrate on it too much.

He didn’t know what to say when he finally got her in his arms. There were far too many things and so ridiculously little time. He tried to file the things through his head, find the most important shard.

“Everything will be fine, “ she breathed, but it didn’t come through her lungs clearly.

He pulled her body against his, buried his face in her hair. A sob left his lips, an actual, heart-wrenching sob and he couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore.

“Not with you gone, “ his voice broke.

Look at what I did, this is all my fault.

“Look at me, “ suddenly she was stroking his curls and he bit his lip to stay silent.

She lifted her hand and attempted to wipe his tears away, her eyes were focused again. On him. He felt a gentle tug and this time he didn’t turn away. He watched how her eyes fluttered closed as he covered her lips with his. For a moment, the only thing he could think of was the feeling of her. Her taste, her soft breath against his cheeks. The little hum she emitted when they touched.

“I love you, “ he whispered, frantically, when she pulled away.

“Doctor, “ she breathed one last time, “ let me go.”

[ifyoucouldholdme]

Movie Nights with Trashmouth

Chapter 2

Words: 983

Pairing: Bill/Richie (Bichie)

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

“You sure you’re not overthinking this, Bill?”

Bill poked his freckled face out from his closet, the worry he failed to suppress evident on his brow. “I d-don’t know the dress c-code for a first d-d-date, Eddie. I’ve got to make sure I don’t look b-bad.”

Eddie rolled his eyes from his spot at the foot of Bill’s bed. “This is Richie we’re talking about. You know, the guy who wore shorts and flip-flops to homecoming. You could show up wearing a trash bag, and he probably wouldn’t care.” He idly flipped through a well-weathered issue from Bill’s expansive comic collection, as the other boy changed into yet another flannel shirt. The majority of Bill’s clothes lay strewn about his floor, various shirts and jackets thrown off in a flurry of self-conscious second-guessing.

“Is this even a real date? You know how gay his jokes can be. And you’re not exactly out to anyone but me,” Eddie continued, feeling more than a little proud of this fact. “What exactly did he say?”

“He s-said to pick out a m-movie for d-d-date n-night.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to interpret any possible subtext. “That may have just meant hanging out. ‘Date Night’ isn’t necessarily romantic. I mean, it’s kinda like having a girl’s night but with just you and Richie.”

Bill paused halfway through trying on a suffocating wool sweater he only grabbed as a last resort. “S-so you’re saying R-Richie doesn’t w-want to g-go out with m-m-m-me?” he mumbled dejectedly through the itching fabric.

“Maybe he does. I just don’t want you to get hurt in case he said it as a joke.” Eddie regretted voicing his apprehension upon seeing the nervous excitement drain from Bill’s eyes. “But I could be wrong,” he hastily backpaddled, “Who knows, the idiot might be madly in love with you.”

“M-m-maybe…” Bill sighed. He struggled out of the horrendous sweater and folded it neatly. The stupid thing was uncomfortable anyway. The younger boy felt his stomach clench as he watched his sullen best friend begin to clean the mountain of rejected outfits he had amassed. Determined to bring back the smitten boy he had spent the day talking back down to Earth, he shuffled off the bed and pushed past Bill deep into the closet.

“E-Eddie, what are y-you—”

“Put these on.” Eddie thrust a nice pair of maroon shorts into Bill’s fumbling hands. “Richie’s always going on about guys in shorts, so these should do the trick. You should pair it with something casual but not too careless. How about this?” He rifled through the row of hangars, settling on a soft teal polo. “If I know Richie, just show off your legs and maybe undo the top button of your shirt and that should be enough to titillate him. But don’t show too much skin. You don’t want to deal with any awkward boners or anything.”

“G-God, not this t-time,” Bill muttered under his breath.

“This time?!” Eddie blared. Bill looked up to find Eddie who was usually a little timid and twitchy, but now his eyes looked the size of startled tea saucers. “What do you mean ‘this time’?”

Bill tried to avoid the consequences of his treacherous tongue and continued cleaning his mess, feigning ignorance. “W-what are you talking about, E-Eddie? I d-d-didn’t—”

“You’re really bad at lying, Bill.” Eddie’s gaze tore straight through Bill’s deflection. “You said ‘not this time,’ which means that there already has been an awkward boner. What’d he do, get turned on in the locker room and trick you into looking at it?”

“No, Eddie p-please—”

“Or, no, I bet he started talking about his disgusting ‘nudie mags,’” he punctuated this with highly exaggerated air quotes, “and got too excited, the friggin’ perv.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Honestly, it’s not anything above average. I don’t know why he keeps going on about it. Stan dared him to streak across the gym last year, and—”

“Richie didn’t get a b-boner, I did!” Bill exploded then immediately turned away, angry with himself for letting the secret out. He expected the usual cacophony of choked sputters that accompanies Eddie learning new and surprising information, followed by the barrage of, “What the fuck? Oh my god, what happened? You know, at our age, our hormones are racing so hard that anything can cause an erection: porn, tight pants, a breeze. It wouldn’t necessarily mean anything. I heard about this guy in Florida who went to the ER because he had a full blown hardon for like six hours, and they eventually had to drain the blood out of it with a needle!” and a thousand other comments. Instead, Eddie just plopped his ass back on the foot of bills back with a soft, “Oh.”

This reaction terrified Bill. What if Eddie thought he was a creep now? What if he actually was a perverted mess? “T-that b-b-bad, huh?” he cringed. Life immediately sprung back to Eddie’s expression. “No, not at all!” he threw his hands up in a reassuring gesture, “It’s just that, well, I guess I just haven’t really ever thought of you as a sexual person. I mean, I know you like boys and you want a relationship, but I’ve never really though about…your dick or anything.”

Bill gawked at him. “Uh, t-thanks?” They sat in the uncomfortable silence in excruciating bewilderment. He ran his fingers over the flannel in his hands while Eddie’s knees rapidly bounced.

“So…” the tiny boy whispered, “was…was it because of Richie?”

“Y-yeah…” Silence fell again. Curiosity bubbled up into Bill’s throat. He wanted to know, but then again, would he sound super creepy? “S-so, um….w-w-what….you saw R-Richie’s d-d-d-d—”

“Oh my god, Bill!” Eddie cackled as he launched a pillow across the room at his blushing friend. “Just get dressed. You don’t want to keep your precious Trashmouth waiting!”

[hitsuhinalover]

Hitsuhina day 2019

Prompt: a quote from Bleach

A/N: This fic is based on Aizen’s horrible words in the chapter 170 (the End of Hypnosis 2, I think?): "How unfortunate! You found her? Pardon me...it wasn't my intention to traumatize you. Before you could have noticed, I should have chopped her into unrecognizable pieces.” And yes, this is part one. I’ve the second part already planned (because this was supposed to be one fic), so the chances are that I’ll write it sometime next year. Well, not to be too optimistic, perhaps after two, three years?

Disclaimer: I’m saying it again...Bleach isn’t mine.

Part One: Are you still there?

When he rushes into the room, he doesn’t know what to think, what to feel. In front of him, lips stretched into a smile and glasses glimmering in the dim light, stands Sosuke Aizen. The Captain of the Fifth Division, the man who he had last seen pinned onto a wall, eyes staring into nothing. That all he had briefly noted before throwing himself between the Lieutenant of the Third Division and Hinamori, whose distressed scream had fetched him. Then he quickly commanded the quarrelers taken away; ensuring the fox-faced captain wouldn’t reach for his sword and kill her, like the minuscule movement, noticed only by the teal eyes, had indicated. Besides, he didn’t want her to be around the cruel sight any more than necessarily. Her captain, the man she had looked up to, ruthlessly murdered.

Now the source of her grief, almost the reason for her death, smiles to him as if they’ve merely crossed paths on a spring day, when a hint of summer in the air lightens the mood – although even on those days, he had never found it in him to greet happily the older man. Seeing the immaculate white haori, without drops of blood dotting the clothing, he begins to understand that his doubts may have been fueled by something more solid than just petty jealousy. In the situation he is now, relief would be too strong a word, but a flash of an emotion not too different rushes through him. Why is he always glaring at Captain Aizen, who is never anything but polite and friendly? Why does he always try to question Captain Aizen’s actions, who is so intelligent and has others’ best interests at his heart? Ha! All of those people, telling him that he’s mistaken, that he should change his opinions and thoughts...they’ve been ones who had mistaken. However, the feeling of victory doesn’t last long, not when it occurs to him it would have been easier for Hinamori if her captain had been what the man had been pretending, or even when she would have been forced to keep grieving for her deceased captain.

What most worries him, though, isn’t seeing the dead man alive, together with the imposter's right-hand man, who has lately been up to no good. No, it’s Hinamori who worries him. More precisely, her weak spiritual pressure is what makes him hurry past the men, until his feet stick to the floor and eyes to a person lying on the floor.

Stillness. It’s a word that he has always found difficult to associate with her. She’s that kind of person who always keeps going, intense emotions coursing through her and pushing her into action. When Captain Kuchiki told to throw the wounded Lieutenant Abarai to a cell, she didn’t stay silent. Seeing her captain slain, she had first cried and shouted, but little later she had tried to attack the man she thought a murderer. Even though he doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that he was a murderer in his eyes for some time, he can’t help admiring the courage Hinamori possesses. Some people wouldn’t attempt going against a captain by themselves, let alone their friend, instead opting for staying silent or talking about their doubts to someone else.

However, while staring at the girl laying on the floor and not seeing whether her chest still raised and lowered, he hoped she would be more of a coward. Had she relied on others instead of attempting to solve everything by herself, or sat and done nothing, she might not have wandered in the path of schemers. The blood drops he had earlier looked for in Aizen wouldn’t be coloring Hinamori, nor would she wear an empty gaze he had seen on Aizen.

“How unfortunate! You found her?” Aizen’s voice cut through his shock, mocking. “Pardon me...it wasn’t my intention to traumatize you.” Now the man’s words are spoken in a gentle, familiar tone, as if the psychopath really cared about others’ pain. It’s worse than false sympathy, since it reminds him of how well the older captain hid behind the lies. All those years.

But the worst of all are the imposter’s next words.

“Before you could have noticed, I should have chopped her into unrecognizable pieces.”

Chopped her into unrecognizable pieces...her into unrecognizable pieces….into unrecognizable pieces...unrecognizable pieces...pieces.

Gasping, Hitsugaya lunged to sit up, in a weak attempt to force oxygen into his suddenly useless lungs. It was as if his heart had finally given up and burst, shattering the rib cage and pressing his lungs until they collapsed. One. He knew to expect this. He should no longer feel like he was dying, not when this happened every night. Two. The darkness didn’t let him to see anything, not even the shapes, but he knew he was alone in the room. However, even though you expected someone to be walking next to you but didn’t see them when you turned, it didn’t mean your friend had disappeared, or died. They might only be lost. Three. Hinamori was alive. She was in her room, sleeping, like he should be.

After the fourth deep inhale, Hitsugaya ended up acting the same way like every night – no matter how hard his rationality struggled to win his broken, bruised, barely beating heart, the mind of a genius always lost. Every night. He peeled the sheet from his skin, grimacing at a quiet crunch of frost breaking, and slipped a robe on before stumbling through the darkness to the door. It was getting easier and easier, he thought grimly as he stepped into a hallway. The lighting was dim, but it was better than in his room, and he quickly found himself in front of a familiar door. Sensing her spirital pressure inside, his shoulders hunched a bit, tension that shouldn’t have been there in the first place leaving his body almost completely. Despite the fact his fist was closer to knock than at previous nights, the result was the same as before: his fingers uncurled themselves in mid-air like a flower in the morning, fingertips touching the door like petals falling to the ground, without causing any noise that could bother the sleeping girl.

[goldcaught]

Welcome to day 1 of #25DaysOfKlaroline, we want to start these festivities celebrating our fandom with KLAROLINE FANDOM MEME, answer the questions and tag #25DaysOfKlaroline: 1. What’s your name 2. Favorite fandom memory 3. Favorite Fanfic 4. Favorite fanfic quote 5. Favorite video 6. Favorite kcer 7. Favorite blog 8. Favorite twitter acc 9. Favorite fanart 10. Who’s the Klaus of your mutuals 11. Who’s the Caroline of your mutuals 12. You are more like Klaus or Caroline? 13. Favorite meta

IM BEHIND ON DAY 1 already im so sorry babes forgive me my lapse

What’s your name | melissa!

Favorite fandom memory | oh god??? how is this even an answerable question! i cherish every day with this ship and you babes honestly, but i’ve got to say since i came in post-s4 (WHAT I WOULD HAVE GIVEN TO HAVE BEEN HERE FOR 423 H O W E V ER L O N G IT  TA K E S what was that even like did all your blood turn into balloons and float you all into the skies) then the first big amazing thing that happened for me was 5.11, which like obviously pretty immediately was turned into kind of a nightmare, but!! the build up was pretty incredible and the fandom was walking on air and for a moment we f l e w 

COMING IN AT A SOON TO BE NUMBER ONE SECOND our upcoming endgame festivities

Favorite Fanfic | the limit does not exist, if i answered one favorite i would have to answer at l e a s t 10 and we would be here for days

Favorite fanfic quote |  je refuse

Favorite video | you know, i’m sorry to say i don’t really watch vids! 

Favorite kcer | you guys should know by now that i have.....an endless supply of love that i am not stingy about sharing, so like. i love so many!!! so!!!!! many!!!!!!! so i’ll take this time to shout out to a small assortment of babes @highgaarden @darkenedhallways @klarolinedrabbles @cupcakemolotov & @thetourguidebarbie without whom I WOULD DESPAIR 

Favorite blog | fuck if i don’t love me some @candycolamorgan

Favorite twitter acc | stephanie! 

Favorite fanart |  everything @daysandhours has ever made for them, WHY ARE YOU STANDING SO KLAUS TO ME , these to break your heart + +,  this to mend it

Who’s the Klaus of your mutuals | @cbk1000 EXCEPT FOR HER WEIRD AVERSION TO WRITING KC PORN which like klaus himself would never hesitate in a thousand thousand years, you couldn’t get him to s t o p in point of fact so just saying jenn if you wanted to step up your klaus game do consider

Who’s the Caroline of your mutuals | it’s a tie between @thetourguidebarbie & @candycolamorgan 

You are more like Klaus or Caroline? | siiiiiigh neither, the reality of which is just a CROSS I HAVE TO BEAR

Favorite meta | every single thing @sunoftheguns has ever written about them still s i n g s to my soul

[sadstoriesbook]

Chapter Two...

    Here I am, writing the second chapter on the same day. Call that productive or whatever; I call this therapy session on a rainy day that is slowly turning back into a hot summer day with a beautiful caress of middle-temperature wind.

    You can smell the beach in the wind, and if you lick your lips, you can almost taste the salt on them, hair flying all around my face, almost preventing me from seeing my computer screen. This morning the sky was full of clouds, there was this fresh air, and you could smell the rain, but now it’s like nothing happened, like it never rained, like thunder never screamed last night, like lightning never lighten up the sky.

    Rainy days always inspire me; there is this nostalgia, memories coming back. I always find rain soothing. So on this beautiful Sunday, I’ve started a new book, called “Thirteen Reasons Why” by Jay Asher.

    This heartbreaking story. I’m sure you’ve heard about it, probably from the Netflix series, but this book was there way before, it has been praised by everyone, Association of Booksellers for Children, American Library Association. It won a Heartland Award for Excellence in Young Adult Literature. Florida Teens Read Award, California Book Award, Kentucky Bluegrass Award, Barnes & Noble’s “top Ten Best for Teens.” Book Sense pick, international reading Association’s “ young adults choices” finalist. Borders Original Voices finalist. Chicago Public Library’s “Best of the Best Books,” Kansas State Reading Circle’s “Recommended Reading List,” New York Public Library’s “Book for the Teen Age.”

    16 state Award Master lists.

    “Thirteen Reasons Why is a mystery, eulogy, and ceremony. Twenty or thirty times, I snapped the book shut when a sentence, an image, or a line of dialogue was too beautiful and painful.–”

    I relate a lot to this first part of praise. There are so many lines, thoughts from the protagonists that break my heart. Especially this sentence. “And yes, Clay–I’m sorry, too.” If you read the book, you know why this sentence is strong, powerful and full of emotions and is so meaningful.

    “–But I, afraid and curious, would always return to this amazing book. I know, in years to come, I will often return to this book.” - Sherman Alexie, author of “The Absolutely True. Diary of a Part-Time Indian.

    I would close the book because a sentence hurt me, or because I related too much to the current situation but find myself opening the book two minutes after because I needed to see how the characters reacted, would they act the same way as I did when I was in this situation? To be honest, and don’t get me wrong, I love this book, I do not agree with some choices that some of the characters made, but that’s what makes this book so realistic, you don’t agree with everyone’s choices, it’s not yours to make.

    ”Every once in a while you come across a book that you can’t get out of your mind, one you have to rush back to if you must put it down for some reason. Jay Asher’s Thirteen Reasons Why is one of those books, and is at the very top of my personal Must-Read List.“ -Ellen Hopkins, bestselling author of Tricks, Identical, Crank, Burned, Impulse, and Glass.

     Even after ten years, this book still has this strong impact on the ones who read it. And even to the ones who didn’t but still heard from it by their friend or online. This book created, opened a conversation that needed to be.

    ”Very clever premise, strong voice, perfect suspense. This one will keep you reading. Jay Asher is a fine storyteller.“ - Chris Crutcher, author of Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes, Whale Talk, and Deadline.

    While reading the book, I sometimes had to remind myself that the author who wrote this book somehow found a way to put himself in the skin of a teenage girl who’s turning into a young woman and has to go through the looks and expectations of everyone. He did it, and some of you might think "well he’s an author,” I’m sorry but many failed at this. When you read this book, you tend to forget that it’s not a young woman who’s writing this book, who’s telling her story, it’s an amazing and talented man.

    “A spectacular first novel. Jay Asher tells his story with such honesty and simplicity that the tragedy feels shatteringly real.” -Gordon Korman, author of Son of the Mob and Jake, Reinvented.

    “the tragedy feels shatteringly real.” Well if I’m going to be entirely frank with you, Gordon Korman, these things do happen in real life! There might not be someone who does thirteen cassettes to tell their story, but it does happen. Some people can push others to kill themselves.

   In this chapter, I might hurt some people and perhaps get some haters.

    I’ve been bullied and on the verge of killing myself. People are mean enough to push others to kill themselves because they are different, not like them. Some people will beat, and some people will use words.

    For my part, the worse was the words that were said. Bruises, I mean physical injuries heal, but words stay, words remain. You can cover scars with tattoos or even jewelry, but you can’t cover internal and mental scars, it’s just not possible.

    I don’t really know where to go with this chapter. I just don’t. I’m mad whenever I think about those who hurt me but even more to those who saw and did nothing to help.

    There is this quote “It only takes a little push to pull on through” - All-Time Low, “Missing You.”

    I remember when I read online the negative comments. How the book tells too much or even the series shows too much, I got mad, and he asked me what was going on.

    “Just some stupid people that are afraid of life.” I spat, anger dripping in every word I say.

    “If you care about everything that everyone says, you’re screwed you know that?” He answers.

    I shut my computer and look at him.

    “Those people are similar to the ones who hurt me. They caution this behavior. ” I said. I didn’t understand why he was telling me this. He knew my story.

    “I know. What I meant was, you cannot leave one single negative comment to hide two positive ones.” He adds.

    “There is way more than one negative comment. That’s the problem. They refuse to see the truth! Thirteen Reasons Why shows this truth, and they don’t like it. Words hurt, actions have consequences. People decide to hate the truth because they know that they have things to be guilty of doing or saying! They criticize the victims, I mean, yeah sure it’s easier. But the fact is the less famous version of it all, the less attractive. You can’t gossip about the truth. ‘Oh well, they killed themselves because they are weak.’ They killed themselves because they were strong for too long. And when they’re dead, they cry, they don’t cry because they’re sad they are gone, no, because they’re gone because of them. They cry because they realized what they just did. They killed someone; there’s blood on their hands.

    But then what’s following could almost be mesmerizing. They can’t blame themselves, I mean, this won’t be fair, so they blame the victim, say that it was just attention seeking, they keep on putting down the victim, they soil the memory of the victim. What they don’t even realize is that by killing them, they’re killing their family, too. This book and the show prove that, and it tells the truth, and they don’t like it because people don’t like the truth.”

    Once again he didn’t answer, he knew better. And he knew I was right. Jay Asher did a fabulous work on this book, and as a bully survivor, I thank him for writing this book, and I thank Netflix for creating this show.

    Truth needs to be said. And for my part, when I will have children, I will tell them about the book and the show, I won’t force them to read it or watch it, but they will definitely know about it.

    The best way to stop bullying and hatred is to educate the ones that will soon rule the world, the next generation. Everything starts with them; things can only change with them.

     Values are something important, something that some people lack, some people are degrading, some people don’t even care about it. Sure it’s easier to be bad than good; you have to fight to be good, you have to fight to keep up with your own expectations. It’s always easier to take the wrong road, but always harder to stay on the good one, you have to look for indications, ask for help when you’re lost. It’s a constant fight, but in the end, it’s worth it because when you arrive at the end of the road, you remember the ones who helped you, the ones who let you down, and the landscapes you saw.

    Everything matters, everything has consequences, everything has an impact, minimal or not, it does matter, so make the most of it.

    Don’t wait the next day to say you’re sorry; there might not be a next day. Don’t wait until it’s too late.

    As I love to say, don’t live with regrets and do not leave with regrets.

[throwingideasatthewall]

Clone Wars     The Deserter

          (Season 2 Episode 10)

Inter     Sting-

 Ha         Ha-  

   No-

  The       Quote;

    It is the quest for honor    that makes one honorable

    -No

    -It’s

     -you can dedicate yourself to a        purpose

     - but you have to do it well

      -accountably

      - For it to            mean          anything

       “Quest”

        Wanting 

           for

       Account-            able

        Means

       Nothing-

      With-out

       Action

       Any-way

       Oh,          We’re abandoning the grievous      arc?

     Aw.

      What.

      Oh.

     Jedi       Council-

      One idiot

     Who let       him   board           

And tried to take him on his own

In the outer        Rim. .

   Natural      selection’s            a          bitch        (Don’t    eugenics)

 Any.way              A            Trap

      Of like a few     guys

       And Anakin just sitting around until      he got shocked   to    almost    death. .

“Fierce   confrontation,”

  Obi-Wan           got          his          ass         beat                - unconditionally-             -             That        person               -             Did           some          thing.           - - -  

        Then they had to      re treat  

. .

Saluka       Mi

‘Yes       general Kenobi is doing some     very       serious thinking     . . .

  Clone troopers      -

  Yeah- again    why is Rex getting dragged along?   

  Des-per       -ate       Target

  Desperate?

He seemed fine?

  And Obi-Wan          got his ass kicked      last episode

       [Who’s trapped            in a room             with who?]

      It’s not   General Kenobi..   ..

  Whelp-

   Okay-

  W-help-       -

  Okay,        Right-

   Planet-

  Well there are plenty of resources around you-

  Before they find us

Obi-Wan will insist I play a game of tag with him-

 He- always runs-     -    Also,      nice cloak?

  It    suits him..

   Very      noble..

  Kenobi

   Again that could be     literally     anyone..

   Also time to        hijack         a       ship          -        What is that       not the plot    we’re going with?           -          We     

    Need     To 

   Hurry

“Escape          pod,”

  It’s-

A planet-?

There are   no escape    pods.  [Besides the    ones you arrived in-].    ]

 Or just hijack one of their ships,

Tran-s-     ports-

Wreckage-

 Again- 

Why is    Rex-

Plot     Im      Por-t    anc       e-

Nice      Sight-

 Contact the    Fleet 

 Good plan

  Comms broke?

   “Transmitter   is destroyed..”  

    Fair...

   Well    time to find parts and    make a new one.    .

 .

 Escape       Pod-        Make     it there. .    .

Good plan

 (Also,       He looks like a    vampire)

   Just say’in

   Find           Trans-      Por-        Tat-      Ion-

 Fair     -   Okay,

 Hot Things

 Very    well   rounded    environ-        ment-

   Cute

    Less        So

    [And   an adequate    metaphor      for the war    coming home..]     .

 Right.

    Int     -imidating     -     Okay-    Neat-

 Okay,

  That’s         a         Thing

   (Or            A         Giant         Skate          Board           Ramp:)

    That’s        Some-thing    

  Or-        bit

   Any-

   Grievous

 [A giant skateboard ramp              but no]

      Ship...

     What?

      ...

     Okay!

      Oh

Er-

Power       Low-

 Well they haven’t re-     charged since last morning,

   Er

 Dude-

 “Can’t go           On,”

  That one droid that just had to be more        dramatic than everyone else

    Good            for           Him,

   Re-charged

  Well  you clearly aren’t solar powered     and there’s no   port to do that.

 Again?

De-pleted

 Dude he’s using that to   carry your equipment,

 Close        Down        for         A       Few      Mom   -ents

 Dude

 [yeah the way he put it was kind of   as-    inine;      “You,”       Instead          Of          A        Logi         cal-       We only have      ____hours of energy              sir

  But    he must be doing pretty badly      too,

  Having some   sentience,      Bi-          ologi     cal        -Com         Pon-         Ents-,             And       Robotic-

Also, so it’s a sleep   cycle,  

  Neat,      (Did not know that about the droid’s       recharging process,”)

      We saw the guards charge   electrically. .

   No-

  Does that-  just magically charge them?

   Is it an emergency back up         at a light saber?

     (Because         if so      that’s kind          of cool.”

      No-

    Thought-

    - Pod-

     Aight

       “Yikes,”

     Dooku’s          going                To                Be             Pissed.

       Okay...

       Right..

       Team-         Work... -            ...

   Okay...

    A’ight

   Aight.

   Aight  

    And.. .

 A’ight-

  “Rex,”

  “Contact        Us,”.         -

    “En           Gage,”

  Dude-  they’re supposed to engage a robot with several    flame swords?

Have you seen -   how useless their blasters    are-

(Yoda   at least said it     don’t shoot        at the obvious           Jedi/             Sith-           Force           User-

       Aigh- t

      Surprisingly             calm                ...           And..            Obedient?

        Whelp-

         “Rex                  is a smart man,”

           Have we seen anything to indicate that?

           Creative, destructive, impulsive,               asinine

              Explosive

            All things that describe               Rex

 Wouldn’t     exactly      go      with     “smart,”         .      Does     he just become a different person    with Kenobi?

    Also is that     the only format they have       for complementing people,       ____,         Is         A        Smart (adj          ective)         Man,?”

Used the same for     Cody.

  His      Feet   . . .

   Now it’s a    com-      pliment-        -     (We’ve   also seen   nothing in this episode to     indicate or provoke      That      Arc.. .)

 (Like he just     follow-      ed orders?)

   Not a wrong   time for compliments          (Al-most)

     Just    ��     Weird.

  There         They        Go

  Voom

 Gull-  Ible?

 Gone

   Off

  “    “

  Ri-

 Ok-ay

  Here’s         One          -         Un-      conscious-          -         A-ight

  I-n-    spect

  It

Aight-

O-k

R-i      g-ht

Voom,         r

 Nice       land-scape-     R-ight-

 Okay-  -

Whelp,      Feck!  

 Aight       Crud-

   -

 -shot.   

 -

 -

Whelp-

You-     heard a gun shot and didn’t get down?

Whelp-

Ouch-

 Tumble and Roll!          (Tuck and roll!)

   Shit

  Protect             The            Cap-tain

   Anakin’s        captain         (Like seriously who is Obi-Wan‘s       captain?           Cody is his        commander?

    What is the          order          here?)

       Good               for             Him?

       Shit

    Comm        an   do-      Droids-

   Get         Shit,         Jobs           - 

   Behind          everyone        else?

     Hey      shouldn’t      someone           be        Comming            in?              —    

      Shit-          Whelp        -             Got          Him-              -     Co-        mm-         an-          do

    Droids-

   Oh, yeah this unit does have a     pen-chant against those guys

  I guess                Rex

(The        droids finally did him in..).      R.I.P.    Heavy.

   Whelp,         No facial  damage that       we can see-

     Might have a con     -cussion-  

    Wait...

    How does he have a hole in his     suit?      

    Dude clearly aimed for the head..

     Hold up...  

     Re-wind...   

   Oh no,         it did somehow get him in the      chest.

     How?

      Did that...

     Any         Way-

     [Plot   convenient         bullets aside]

     Shit..

    That’s           Not..      Good..

   “Jesse,”         Name   (s)-

 Aight,      Whelp-

  Could’ve      used some tanks,

    Whelp

   Nice sunset          though,

  Hopefully         not on Rex’s             life,          Though-

     Ai-ght           Tech,         Have,  

     Righ.      t-

   Okay-

  Guidance            System-

    The guard...      has an odd haircut

    Doesn’t look         very military...

   Unless we’re counting that one dude         On the Centurion          Guard, who      ended up being a           villain?

        That looks like a     normal        haircut.. .       .

 Me-mory          Logs-

  Emerg-ency   sen-sors

   Escape        pod

     Mid air       collision-

     -         A-      Ight-

  O-     kay-

  How-

  “With         What?”

    Wait is there another     plot line that     I’m unaware of

   ...

      ?

   Okay.

 What?

 Crash        -ed?

 Ironically, Cody’s being more inventive than     ,Rex?

  And Rex       spent the time taking     orders?

[Wtf Is this characterization,”          ]

aight

I can     put us   within           . .

  Two        or three clicks

  Good.. ..

 Alert the men  

He said to the random the blonde guy-

  Wait is that his captain?

  That would make sense

   [but       eugenic]

    ,Okay,

    Name,

   Wait they have a     medic?     Or...

 Armor...

 Fair

 Okay...

 [Odd sound effect       there]

   Fair

   Pick-

   Hey, is no one going to call for help?

   Like you were told to     Com in?

 [I know this isn’t as important as   General grievous     but I think it counts,]

  You know the lead possibly    dying,

  Could get       a medic       some possible back up

  Not    to mention those droid    had to come from somewhere.

“Cover,”

 Oh it’s the   animals’ making it

That make sense.

Wait a minute.

Do-mesticated

Or herbivores and friendly   but we’ll go with        this logic

(It also makes sense for   Obi-Wan’s unit to     jump this high for a   conclusion,      it’s in his     char   -acter

And      see-

Oof

Sir,

Literally everyone is more inventive than   Rex in this episode

   [I think someone-

And I mean it’s      pos-sible

    Mixed up the        chara         cterization..

     This is supposed to be the    rule and order         unit        correct?

       Farmer

     [so we’re going to         bug that fucker]

Like seriously,     the leaps in logic here are astronomical?

Do you see rows of   domesticated       crop?

Do you see any sign of     human   co-       habitation?

Where - is this coming   from?

Really is   Obi-wan’s     unit]

 Any way.. .

Let’s find his     homestead

Not even   “let’s see     ‘if we can borrow some supplies’    “      Let’s     feck   up   this     guy’s   house

Damn

Storm-  

Trooper       Don’t      Fuck      Ar   -ound-

  Aight-

   How-        Okay-      Practic   al

-what are -

   Out       Cold

    Oh now   there’s things. .

    Would’ve been           nice to see that.

     . .

    Whelp. .

    Hi

   Heck-

   You        Have-

   A   shotgun

 You   should   run-

 S’up

  Okay

  Pretty        Di-        rect-  

   Move          Along-

    Old clone man-

    Easy-

 Yeah       they have        blasters.

    Still

   She said you        weren’t wanted..

   Take off a helmet doesn’t change that

     Move along

   [Also yeah  friends that come with several armed shotguns, a possible army following them, unwanted and uninvited

  *Friend         Ship   

  Bu-      llets-

     Don’t be         friendly

     Say the    pitch

    “Get out of your          hair        real quick,”

     Yes,       no,          leave,

    State       Bus-        I-     ness-

  Ain’t falling for any of your     “friendly.” bullshit,

 Captain

  Doctor 

  We have a     medic-

  Good-

   How?

   Over         night-

   Dude that is a big fucking risk you’re asking her to      take

    [Narc            Log]

       Like you guys are open shots,

      That      dude can’t protect them selves

      And,  they clearly don’t want to be    accountable

     (Out here)

  As the world   burns...

   I’m sorry            Sir         But        the signs       are pretty        clear.

   Mommy

 Oh god,

She’s a   Generation    breaker,        too?

  Directly?

    Whelp...

     Also          not        how        kids        act..

     They don’t have     initiative           ...

    Can’t have     emotion...

     Hm,

  Be-nches

    Good-

   Fine,       Thanks,

   Enab            ling         war,

   What ever

    Go

   Aight

   Future        healing       tech,.

   What, 

   What        Happ-        en        -ed?

Seriously, shouldn’t be            Shouldn’t there        be someone       on guard?

-

   Left-

  Seriously,  is there     armor out of plastic?

    Like,         how?

   How?

 Arm- 

   Shit-

  Seriously,   

do   the   other   guys      have    to be here      they’re       kinda     making           it     un-     comfortable.

 Nerve       Damage-

  Oh, yeah   just left the whole 

person up to examine an arm.

Under-      Stood      -  

 Who said that?

On with it-

 How-

The bullet went through his   chest         -    

  We see a      wound,     On his          lower           back?

      That’s not        bruising          from           the           fall?

          A           rock                wouldn’t             create               that              kind                  of              Mark.

            No               Con-               dition

        -Heal

         Time

         Ok-    ay-

Well,   call    up,     Obi-Wan,

 Get     Rex to the medical ship   that they keep talking about...

We’re      Get    -ting        Un       der-       Way        Kix

  Damn      It         Self        De-       Str     Uct       Ive             -      Ba     stard          -       If     buddy      wants         to       throw        them         -self     over the cliff   there’s nothing         anyone               -    can do about it

(Except- Hope-)

    ...

   That’s          An         Order

    Wonder       What-      Kinda       Order      -        Team   Medic   “Don’t”.   “I can’t bring you back on that much death,”

   Then again most civilizations would not be found it on a precipice

      So        How..

 “ I am     outrank      everyone,”

   Medic, pulling a fucking      rank.

    And he actually    can do that

    Considering dude he decided to fuck around and      find out with   Mother      Life       Dude is technically a kin        To      immediate accountability    at any    point

 T-ypically to the medic    who treated him-

  So,     Yeah,      He can      totally       do that,

    Okay,

     Damn,         It,

     Also look at these   idiots standing around