#don't worry he's next though

[prettyflyshyguy]

It's wip wednesday. I'm going back to my #1 favourite punching bag cause when life gives you rotten lemons, inflict pain on fictional characters. Please enjoy what I wrote over the last few days. (open for a surprise)

“Oh thank god.” Sam said in relief as he opened the door, Samuel almost pushing past to enter quickly, wasting no time setting down the duffel bag on the coffee table and unzipping it as Sam locked the door after him.

“Can’t keep an eye on your brother for five minutes now?” Samuel said disapprovingly, like he was scolding a child. He unsheathed a machete and inspected the silver blade, checking the edge before handing it to Sam before selecting one for himself. 

“I tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t listen, look you know what he’s like–”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s not himself, Sam.” he raised his voice and the blade in his hand “And we can’t take any chances with this, you know how time critical it is after initial infection.”

Sam lowered his eyes and looked at the weapon in his hands. 

“He may be family, but do not let that blind you from the gravity of this situation.” Samuel continued, “He’s a monster now, and he’s hungry. We have to find him before it’s too late.”

“I told you he’d kill me.”

The pair snapped into focus at the sound of Dean’s disembodied voice, both raising their weapons up defensively and stepping back, peering into the dark of the kitchen. They instinctively moved to back each other up, both covering the potential exits, Samuel shifting with his back to the room door, Sam inching closer to the bathroom. 

“Did you feed?” Samuel spoke out, eyes darting around the gloom, looking for his mark.

Emerging from behind the small separator wall, Dean slowly stepped into the open kitchen space, his back to the pair. They eyed him with caution, trying to get a read on him. People changed when they turned. Dean was no exception. 

“I went to say goodbye to Lisa.” his voice was soft, and though his back was still turned, his lowered head emphasised the weight of the guilt in his tone “... Which for the record, was a lousy idea.”

“Dean answer the question.” Samuel snapped.

“You can relax, I didn’t drink anyone.” his lip curled as he spat the words out, eyes flickering as the light from the street filtered through the drawn blinds and reflected and bounced back. Sam shivered involuntarily as the sight reminded him of a hunt in years past, when a shapeshifter took on his brother’s form. Samuel breathed out in relief and his body relaxed slightly, but his grip on the machete was unwavering. “Thank god.”

Dean’s eyes lowered to the ground, the changing angle breaking the reflected light, making them seem human again. “... But I came close.” He paused after the admission, staring at the floor. Nodding slightly as if to confirm something to himself, he removed his rugged coat and laid it on the bench behind him. Stepping forward, he looked back up at the pair and straightened himself. Sam and Samuel exchanged a glance before turning back to Dean. His eyes once more reflecting the light as he spoke with indignation in his voice. “Alright. Do it.”

Sam held steady, looking at Samuel for guidance. Samuel ignored the pleading stare and continued to focus on Dean, watching him stand ever so still, tense and stoic. A trained working dog, aware of its mistake, awaiting judgment to be delivered. He took a few confident steps towards Dean, machete held gently by his side as a precaution. Dean stiffened and his face grew colder at the approach, his eyes unblinking and focused. Samuel stopped a few feet away.

“Dean I didn’t haul ass this whole way just to kill you.” he gestured with his free hand behind him,  “Sam could’ve done that.”

Sam blinked and turned his head away at being mentioned. Dean didn’t break eye contact with Samuel as he clarified, “I’m here to turn you back.”

“What?” his eyes narrowed a fraction and his eyebrows twitched in confusion.

“Dean I tried to tell you…” Sam softly called out from further back.

Samuel’s expression softened as he watched Dean stand there, slumping slightly as his mind almost appeared to short circuit in the moment. If he intended to hurt anyone, he would have made a move by now. Dean swallowed and his eyes darted back and forth as he shifted on the spot. He snapped back in the moment after half a second to look up at Samuel. A pleading look in his eyes and his mouth slightly ajar, the words failing to form in the back of his throat. Despite how much a part of Samuel’s mind screamed at him to pull his arm back and plunge the blade into the vampire’s neck, he had to at least try and save him. Dean broke the stare and shuffled sideways, looking back at Sam. He had put his weapon down on the table, standing back looking relieved. 

“You didn’t think to bring this up, I dunno, when I started hunting again?” Dean took a step forward as he addressed his brother, “How ‘bout before I go and get infected?”

“Look there was a lot going on, I just-” Sam pleaded.

“And you,” Samuel cut him short, staring Dean down as he pointed a finger at Dean’s chest stopping him cold, “didn’t stop to think about anything before you ran off to see your girlfriend.”

Dean reeled back at the comment. Samuel turned his back and returned to the table. “You put innocent lives at risk Dean, and your own for that matter, if you’d stopped to listen to your brother you might’ve realised how high the stakes are.” he looked back over at Dean, who remained in the kitchen looking ashamed. He looked over at Sam who looked exhausted. “Not to mention every hunter in the state is on high alert – word travels fast boys, you know this. Blood bank vans being hit across multiple towns remember?” 

The brothers remained silent as Samuel drive his point home. “You both could have done better. And you’re both goddamn lucky. Don’t forget that this time.” he gestured at the table, “Now get over it, and sit down.”

He placed his weapon back in its sheathe, and took a seat. Moving the duffel bag to one side, placing his sword on his lap just in case. Sam and Dean skulked over, looking like dejected children after their scolding. Sam sat down next to him, while Dean positioned himself slightly further away from the two, on the opposite side, a comfortable arms length distance. Samuel noted how remarkable Dean’s self control must have been to have held on this far. The man was the most stubborn bastard he’d ever met, and he quietly thanked the fact. He’d killed too many good men and women close to his heart before. It never got any easier. 

[lbhslefttiddie]

the qiong ding peak disciples 100% have petty beef with lbh for stealing their favourite didi lmao

they're not gonna Actually beat him up (without Reason) but they're very emphatic about how thoroughly they WILL if lbh messes with sy. it's like a shovel talk that never ends

sy isn't actually completely oblivious to whats going on but he doesn't get why they're like this and he thinks theyre being fucking stupid (and he trusts them to not actually bully binghe) so he's elected to ignore their antics entirely

[mothraranger]

I read one fic and now I ship the Animated versions of Ratchet and Ultra Magnus, I shit you not...

...aaannd I wanna give them a kid or two!

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Day 3: Sensory deprivation / Overstimulation / Isolation

Characters: Helmut Fullbear, Otto Mentallis, Bob Zanotto

Warnings: Panic attacks, references to drugs

Summary: Helmut volunteers to be the first human guinea pig for Otto's new invention. Nothing can go wrong there.

---~~~---

Helmut filed into the Heptadome with the rest of his friends, watching as they began taking their seats on their usual beanbag chairs. Seeing Bob settle into his seat, he grinned, and abruptly plopped down next to him. Bob's face flushed as he scooted over to make room. "Helmut...!" he whispered.

"Yes?" Helmut replied, leaning against Bob's shoulder.

"Knock it off, you two," Ford said as he walked past, swatting his hand in front of their faces. "We got some important business to attend toOOOO—!"

And immediately Ford was yanked by a transparent blue hand into Lucy's seat as she gave him a playful look. "I don't know, Crully, I think they have the right idea."

Helmut and Bob couldn't resist a laugh as Ford's face flushed as well.

Meanwhile, Otto cleared his throat from his place in the center of the chairs. "If you're done engaging in a study in hormones," he said, ignoring the laughter, "I have some important news!" He held up a small oval-shaped case, which he TK'd slightly above his hand for a better view. The color, a bright green with pale pink markings, sang a pleasant woodwind melody in Helmut's mind.

"Nice colors," Helmut said with a nod. "Has a nice sound to it."

Cassie tilted her head. "Isn't that just the smelling salts?"

"It was a smelling salt container, but I repainted it," Otto replied.

Bob leaned back against Helmut, crossing his arms. "So are we here to admire your incredible painting skills, or...?"

"While that would be nice, we're here to discuss something else."

"Good, because they look like a—"

"We're here to discuss what I've packed into this container," Otto went on, pulling the capsule back into his hand and holding it between two fingers. "You see, for the past week, Ford and I have been testing a new invention of mine: Super Sneezing Powder."

"Oh!" Compton scratched his head. "I was wondering where my pepper kept going..."

"I assume that's not something that's just for pranks?" Lucy asked, leaning closer as she draped an arm around Ford.

"No, this should never be used for pranks." Otto covered the capsule with his other hand. "This powder has the ability to cause someone to—quite literally—sneeze their brains out!"

Helmut exchanged a surprised glance with Bob, and noticed everyone but Ford and Otto doing the same with each other.

"We've successfully tested the powder a number of times now," Otto went on.

"Er—what, exactly, did you test the powder on?" Compton asked.

Otto avoided Compton's gaze. "We've successfully tested the powder a number of times now," he repeated, "and we believe that now is the time to move on to human testing."

"Wait, you want one of us to sneeze our brains out?" Bob asked.

"Correct. I believe we're ready to move on to that point. We just need a volunteer."

Ford nodded. "Yeah. And if y'all decide to chicken out, I'll be stepping in."

"Oh? Does that not make you the chicken, hoping someone else will take your place?" Lucy smirked, poking Ford in the ribs.

He swatted her hand away, only half-heartedly. "No, it means I'm givin' y'all to take the opportunity first if you want!"

"It sounds like a fascinating study," Cassie remarked, "but... is it safe?"

"Well, so far, we've not had a single death!" Otto replied. "So, there's that."

"What's it like?" Helmut found himself saying, leaning forward. "Like, when you're out of your body." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Bob snapping his head toward him, but his partner remained silent.

"Now that is an excellent question!" Otto said, turning to face Helmut with a smile. "And that's exactly what we hope to find out! You see, while the initial tests were successful, we couldn't get much useful information out of our subjects."

"Th-they were animals, weren't they?" Compton shrank back. "Oh dear..."

"Maybe, Otto, you should have asked one of our zoolepathy experts for help on that front," Cassie remarked coldly.

"Ah, but it wouldn't be near as useful as a human subject!" Otto replied. "That's why we're asking for volunteers."

"You are asking for volunteers," Bob snapped. "There's no we here."

"There's me, too, Zanotto," Ford retorted, raising a brow at him.

"And me," Helmut said simply, his eyes still on Otto.

"What?!" Bob jumped up from his seat and stood between Helmut and Otto. "Helmut, no! You don't have to go through with that!"

"I know," Helmut replied with a shrug. "But I want to. It sounds cool."

"Excellent!" Otto exclaimed, perking up. "That's settled, then! You owe me twenty pieces of psitanium, Ford."

"Paaah—!"

"No, it's not settled!" Bob cried, shooting a glare at Otto. "I—can you give us a moment?"

Before anyone else could respond, Helmut found himself being ushered out of the Heptadome. "Something the matter, Bobby?"

"Yes!" Several plants around Bob coiled in on themselves aggressively. "I don't trust Otto with this! We don't know what's going to happen!"

"I mean, we haven't really known what was gonna happen with anything else we've done, either," Helmut shrugged. "Isn't that the point?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Faltering, Bob looked down at the ground. "It's just... messing around with our minds is one thing, but this is your brain we're talking about. This could really be dangerous."

"Otto said it wasn't—" 

"He said the animals didn't die!" Bob snapped. "Not that they were okay!"

"Hey, hey." Helmut bent down, taking Bob's hands and looking into his eyes. "Listen. If something happens to me, you have my permission to make one of your plants smack him in the face. Okay?"

Bob drew in a breath, staring into his eyes for a long moment. A pained look crossed his face. "...Why do you wanna do this, Helmut?"

Helmut frowned, glancing away. "Well... it does sound cool," he admitted. "But... also—if you're, like, just a brain, you can't feel everything else, can you? You don't have eyes or a nose or mouth or anything like that."

For a moment, his thoughts drifted back to the many times when he'd stood off to the side of the stage, and even when he knew there was no audience there to greet him, the bright lights and their glare and heat felt overwhelming, not to mention the sounds of the bulbs buzzing and the stillness of the theater. Or that time he tried going to a parade—it was incredible for all of five minutes before his head started pounding from the sound, and his vision swam from the overwhelming colors and voices and instruments, and within a few more minutes he was huddled against a nearby wall, his body shaking and his mind blank. Even small moments in the Gulch could be too much, when there were six different voices all shouting over one another, even in jest rather than anger.

He heaved a long sigh. "I just... think it'd be nice to not have to deal with that for a little while."

Bob was silent for a long moment, and Helmut's heart pounded. Just as he was about to apologize, Bob spoke up: "...So you promise you won't get mad if I smack him in the face?"

Helmut's face broke into a grin, and he wrapped his partner in a tight hug. "Nah, you do what you gotta do, Bobby."

—-

They met in Otto's lab. Helmut set Bob down, having levitated up there himself, and did not comment on the fact that Bob could have easily used a plant to carry himself up. 

"Good to see you!" Otto said with a smile. He was picking up a jar filled with a strange green fluid, and Bob eyed it warily.

"What's... that for?"

"Oh, this?" Otto lifted up the jar to indicate it. "Well, we can't have brains just lying around! This serum here preserves them and keeps them from getting infected."

Bob groaned, but Helmut stared at the fluid in interest. The sight of it gave off the pleasant taste of apple pie. "Woah, neat."

Setting the jar aside, Otto's expression turned more serious. "Eager as I am to get on with this, I do want to let you know what we know will happen next." He pulled the sneezing powder capsule out of his pocket and held it up. "I'm going to open this right beneath your nose, and you'll take a whiff, same as you would the smelling salts. Except this time, it will cause you to sneeze." Otto pointed a finger at his own head, then down to the front of his face. "Your brain will then exit out through your nasal cavity."

Bob winced. "Isn't there a better way you could do this?"

"Aside from cracking your head open, no," Otto replied flatly. "But from there, I'll place the brain in this jar to keep it safe. You should still be able to communicate with us, in theory."

"In theory?"

"After a few minutes, we'll take this—" he picked up a large metal funnel to indicate it "—and use it to insert your brain back into your body via the ear canal."

"Man, I want some of whatever you're on that makes you come up with this stuff," Helmut said with a laugh.

"Maybe later," Otto said dismissively, lifting up the capsule again. "On your end, I want you to focus on... well... whatever you can. Communicate with us, if you're able, and try to remember the sensations you experience when you're out of your body. I'll want to hear everything!"

"Got it!" Helmut nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"You're sure you want to do this?" Bob whispered, leaning close.

"It'll be fine, Bobby," Helmut whispered, patting his partner’s back before turning to Otto. "Let's do this!"

"Excellent!" Smiling, Otto stepped up to Helmut, holding out the capsule. "Cover your nose, Robert."

Bob gave him a look, but did as he said, plugging his nose and putting a hand on Helmut's shoulder. He gave it a squeeze, and Helmut was pretty sure it was mostly for Bob's sake, not his own.

When the capsule was placed under his nose and cracked open, Helmut took a whiff. Immediately he could discern the scent of about half the spices in Compton's cabinet, along with the worst itch he'd ever felt in his life, which was now directly inside his nasal cavity. His nose wrinkled as he drew in a breath, and he barely had time to register Otto scrambling for the jar of green fluid before—

"Ah—CHOOO!"

The world was gone.

There was no color, no sound, no scent, not even the taste of the crisp early morning air. He felt the slightest sensation that he was floating, but that was it.

This was definitely the weirdest trip he'd ever been on.

As weird as it was, it was the slightest relief to not be bombarded with the world around him, and he basked in the sensation of utter calm.

Yet... it wasn't—not entirely. Something was still nagging at his senses—or at least, one of them, anyway. Remembering what Otto had said, he focused on that, and realized it was his sixth sense—his psychic powers—that was still active. Curious, he reached out, and realized he could sense Otto and Bob nearby. In fact, he could roughly tell how far away from them he was. It wasn't far, and he perked up, trying to reach out to them.

"Hey, guys! This is awesome!" he said.

Except he didn't.

He didn't have a mouth to speak with, so no sound came out. It had nowhere to come from.

The thought sent a bolt of fear through him, but he shook his head—only to realize he couldn't do that, either. Okay. He reached out again, trying to figure out what he could sense, and realized they were talking. In fact, he could get a rough idea of what they were saying:

Get it under control! This is so unusual—

Him, not it! What is wrong with you?!

Yet knowing what they were saying somehow wasn't any comfort. For one, they were distressed, and two, he... couldn't actually hear them. It was them, but without their actual voices. If he thought for a moment, he could apply their mental voices to what he was sensing, but the fact that he had to do that at all was sending more ripples of panic through his mind.

It's okay, it's okay, he thought. I just need to take a breath—wait, no, I can't breathe. His eyes widened, except they didn't because he didn't have those, and he couldn't see and he couldn't hear or smell or feel, he could only think and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe—

Some nightmare loomed at the edges of his consciousness, circling around him with a speed he couldn't even comprehend, and he felt like he was surrounded, overwhelmed, with nothing to be overwhelmed by except the sheer amount of nothingness around him make it stop make it stop make it stop make iT STOP—

There was a sudden jerk, and abruptly the world was.

The fresh smell of morning assaulted his nostrils along with the remains of overly-spicy peppers and whatever earthy scents were emanating from the greenhouse below, and the water and the lab and the brain preservation juices and the awful cologne Otto was wearing. Bright colors stabbed into his eyes, from the sun screeching down into every gap in the lab, to the color of the jar on the counter, to the blue sky outside the window, and even Bob's jacket.

But even more than that—

"HELMUT, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

"GIVE HIM A MOMENT! BUT, PLEASE, HELMUT, WHEN YOU GET THE CHANCE, LET ME KNOW EVERYTHING!"

His heart pounded in his ears, his own breath sounding like the roar of a cougar.

"OTTO, HE'S NOT RESPONDING! IS HE OKAY?"

"I DON'T KNOW, HE HASN'T TOLD US! I'M SURE IT'S FINE, THOUGH. IT WAS ONLY FIVE MINUTES!"

"IF YOUR STUPID SNEEZE POWDER OR BRAIN JUICE DID SOMETHING TO HIM, OTTO, I AM GOING TO FU—"

"SHUT UP!"

The silence of the other voices made Helmut realize that the third one had been him.

But the world hadn't shut up—he could still hear his heart, his breath, the birds outside, the water, the wind, the creaking of the trees and plants and—

Bob's hand clutched his tightly, and while he felt like his skin was exploding from the contact, he gripped it for dear life as his breath came in shallow gasps, and what felt like no air entered his lungs. Already the world was starting to feel distant, now, the sounds and feelings and smells miles away from him. He was out of his body, but not like he'd been before. It was his soul, his soul was leaving his body— "Bobby—I can't breathe—I think I'm dying—"

"It's okay, it's okay," Bob whispered, squeezing his hand. "You're gonna be okay, just breathe." He forced out a laugh. "Hey, Compton's making soup tonight! I grew some really nice onions, and potatoes, and carrots, and Ford—Ford got some bacon, because of course he did—it's gonna be great, okay?"

Helmut listened as his partner continued to ramble, the soft voice gradually bringing him back as the harshness of the world began to fade. But by the time he was grounded, he found his head was pounding, and his nose ached—he didn't know his nose could feel like that—and the exhaustion he felt made it hard to move a single muscle in his body. He let Bob lift him up on his feet, and leaned heavily against him.

Abruptly he remembered what they'd been doing. He glanced up at Otto, only to look away again when he saw the agonized, distressed look on his friend's face, accompanied by clear tear streaks down his cheeks. Helmut had never seen him that distressed in his life.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Helmut," Otto choked out.

"It's okay," Helmut said, and even speaking felt like it took great effort. "I just... d-don't think I can do that again."

Otto let out a shaky sigh, and Bob led Helmut toward the doorway. A large vine reached up from the ground, ready to carry them both down, but before it did, it suddenly bolted out behind them.

Looking back in surprise, Helmut realized Bob had done the same, but his partner's face was contorted with rage. The vine, the width of a lamppost, was whipping toward Otto, who staggered back in terror.

Before Helmut could even gasp, the vine stopped inches short of striking their friend. It held there for what felt like an eternity as Bob glared into Otto's eyes, before slowly the vine pulled away, wrapping gingerly around Bob and Helmut and gently carrying them away from the lab.

[shoulderholsterfreak]

So, I keep seeing people expressing how disappointed they are that Filoni is "going with legends!Thrawn," but to me this sentiment makes it clear that they've probably never read past the original three books, or even the Thrawn Trilogy itself.

Let me explain.

The Thrawn Trilogy is only three novels. There was also the duology (Visions of the Future and Specter of the Past); the stand-alone novels Survivor's Quest, Outbound Flight, and Choices of One; the short stories Crisis of Faith, Side Trip, and Command Decision; and a few other non-Zahn novels and a couple video games wherein Thrawn is present if not in a starring role.

In all Zahn publications after the Thrawn Trilogy, we see a character that, aside from the random political/social debuff introduced in 2017, has a personality and morality system that is nearly identical to the one in canon.

It's in legends where you get Thrawn saying "we do not make war on civilians" and "as civilized beings, it is our duty to minimize suffering" (from the short story Crisis of Faith which takes place weeks before Thrawn began his campaign against the New Republic, so any excuse of "oh he got worse as Palpatine's influence deepened" doesn't really hold water).

And just look at the Empire of the Hand. If you want to know what kind of man Thrawn is, look at the organization he himself founded. To summarize, this is what an alien refugee taken in by the Hand had to say about it:

“The Empire that Senior Captain Thrawn is carving into the evil that pervades our worlds is not the Empire you chose to leave. His is an Empire of justice and dignity for all beings. His Empire is one we gladly serve. One we are willing to die for.”

Basically think the group of aliens and Chiss brought together at the end of Lesser Evil, add Imperials, and multiply it by 1,000.

This was in legends. That’s the vision legends!Thrawn had for a more ideal society. Rebels!Thrawn isn’t even true to what was available to Filoni prior to the canon books’ publications.

Now we can argue if Thrawn was as morally bad in the Thrawn Trilogy as he was in Rebels or not (I say short answer: T3!Thrawn’s greatest sin—for which he was killed—was apathy toward suffering in favor of results, Rebels!Thrawn simply enjoys hurting people because he’s a Bad Guy), but even if they DID hold the same fundamental values, they don’t have the same personality. Thrawn in the 90’s trilogy was expressive, he was having fun, he smiled and shrugged and fiddled with things and pet his ysalamiri. He was sassy and sarcastic and dry-humored and irritable. He was charismatic and, dare I say sometimes relatable. Sure he wasn’t a good person but that’s not the issue here. Thrawn had life to him in the Thrawn Trilogy.

In contrast, Thrawn in Rebel’s personality could be summarized as “creepy evil smart guy who likes art.” He’s really nothing more special than every Saturday mastermind cartoon villain out there. He’s bland and dry and lifeless and he’s scary not because of his intellect or his willpower or ability to read people but because he’s tall and skinny and lurks in the shadows and he’s got cheesy pipe organ theme music.

TL;DR: (as something a friend of mine mentioned) Filoni’s the kind of guy who goes with the very first idea that pops into his head. He goes with his first impression and runs with it. He’s not basing this guy on legends!Thrawn—he’s basing the entirety of it on the very first paragraph of the very first book the character shows up in.

[leadandblood]

(part 1) (pa. 2) (pa. 3) (pa. 4) (pa. 5) (pa. 6) _____ (part 8)

Smells Like Honey, Feels Like Home (Part 7)

He made a step forward. Edward's eyes lit up and filled Jopson with warmth not even a cluster could create. Even more than ever before, he wanted to put a hand on each of Little's cheeks and press their foreheads together. Wanted to preen the fluff he knew to be hidden under Little's shirt to perfection.

But the feeling that's been eating at his insides since their conversation earlier was still strong. Stronger than the warmth.

With all three of them looking up at him, eyes big, dark and waiting - waiting for him - he became overwhelmed. Like a dam breaking, he was flooded with shame over ever considering joining them.

He retreated, mumbled an apology and left the room with three quick steps, shutting the door as he went, not even looking back.

Little's expression was burned into his mind like a photograph. The slow descend of his antennae. The light disappearing from his eyes with each backward step Jopson took, before he turned away for good.

His heart raced. His head spun.

He needs a distraction. Needs to put his hands and mind to work.

Without much thought, he aimed straight for Crozier's cabin. There's surely some work to be done there. Always is. A sock that needs repairing. A dirty spot on the table. The captain needs his wings preened...

He knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

"Jopson!" Crozier exclaimed, as if he wasn't expecting anyone at all. He quickly hid his surprise, though and went back to neutrality. He got up from his desk and walked to one of the cabinets. "I heard you talking to Edward earlier, is there something to report?"

"No, sir." He searched around the room for something to do, but to his demise, everything was in order - his own work. He pretended to wipe a spot on the table. "Is there anything you need, sir?"

Crozier ignored the question, opened the cabinet and took out a whiskey bottle. "What did you two talk about?"

Jopson struggled to word the sentence right. Should he even tell the captain...? It must be too inappropriate.

Crozier searched his face for a few seconds, then turned away to find a glass.

"He had invited me to the sleeping session," he said and immediately bit his cheek.

[mx-myth]

Do we ever know if fang duobing ever named his sword? Obviously li xiangyi (at the time) named his shaoshi and wenjing and di feisheng has his (as we all know) capital-d dao, but did xiaobao ever name his?

[mars-ipan]

more solo magma doodles. this time featuring fortune, the very original and not-at-all-based-on-anything tiefling paladin i'm going to be playing in a new campaign this summer :]

[cementcornfield]

https://www.tumblr.com/cementcornfield/758807441912856576/please-tell-me-jamarrs-dad-being-in-town-might

His absence is very much contract related and it’s looking we will go into the season without him extend because, day to day doesn’t sound promising whatsoever

oh yeah, i wouldn't be shocked if we go into this season without it getting done. that's what i thought would happen before ja'marr started this whole hold in thing (because the market only goes up for guys like him! the bengals are costing themselves money not doing it now tbh!)

but i'd be annoyed about it and i'm sure i'd only be feeling a fraction of what ja'marr would!

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[midnightcowboy1969]

tw assault, don't worry, just thinking out loud

it's horrible that people feel that they have to question themselves like was I actually assaulted, I did the same thing, but it's nice to know that this uncertainty isn't a me thing

[shadowbends]

Raphael waved his hands. “Okay, okay, so hospitals are out. Next idea?” Donatello leaned backwards in his chair, balancing on its rear legs. “We kidnap a doctor, obviously. I’ve made a list of five candidates-”

Draxum and Donatello bond over botany to avoid opening up about all the things they're definitely hiding. The family discusses what they can do next, and Draxum makes a choice.

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[caluupin]

BY THE WAY i just finished sigewinne's sq a bit ago and well. 10/10. (it's a bit lower bc of slight nitpicks) but I still very much enjoyed it

spoilers under cut

look at her! adorable melusine

this genuinely is (one of) the funniest moments. idk why but the fact that we acted as if we're unconscious or dead and sigewinne just goes like "yeah if you don't take this medicine you'll be like them" (which, isn't untrue but still). Like she said it in such a normal(?) tone there. Idk I just found that whole thing funny.

this is too funny out of context. even in context it made me cackle. idk man

and of course, them. Not much to say except I'm pretty sane about this (narrator here, he's not normal abt this)

[asjjohnson]

Part 6 of my poll adventure fic. Links: the beginning, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

It's mid-day Wednesday (at least for my time), which means a new part of my poll adventure fic, because I've been here for over a year and still don't know how to use this site effectively. :D (Oh wait, here, I made a poll about tumblr timing.)

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Valerie walked toward Vlad through the rubble, hugging a hissing and clawing Maddie against her armor. "Found him," she said proudly, smiling up at Vlad. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Actually, there is. There's a malevolent ghost loose in Amity Park, posing a serious risk to my health, as well as to the city. I need him contained and brought to me."

Oh, cheese sticks with marinara dipping sauce! He had meant to do the responsible thing here—not ask a fourteen-year-old child who couldn't even hold a cat properly to risk her life in his stead.

...He really had become too accustomed to avoiding anything unpleasant.

"Sure thing, Mayor Masters!"

Maddie squirmed out of Valerie's hold with an angry yowl and ran off.

Well, he could still work with Valerie. ...If he truly wanted to. He was unlikely to succeed on his own, anyhow, if this older version of Daniel actually was as powerful as he'd heard.

But did he truly want to be a part of this endeavor? He was already dreading it, with only the thought.

He recalled what the older Daniel had said—that he let his emotions hold too much sway, and that in turn caused his plans to fail.

Which had been exactly the case when he'd felt some level of compassion for that ghost.

Thinking purely objectively, Vlad could still use the ghost if he could get him back under his control. And if Vlad were to have some part in the ghost's capture—in saving Amity Park—it would boost his ratings. He did need to keep his position as mayor of Amity Park for his contingency plans.

"Valerie, dear. Why don't we work together? I'm sure it's just misplaced guilt, but I can't help but feel somehow responsible for this situation. Ridiculous, I know. However, working with you on his capture would ease my poor conscience."

"Oh... uh, you've never suggested this before," Valerie said uncertainly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, as though she was trying to think of some way that poor old 'Mayor Masters' could work with her. "But if that's what you want."

'Cheerleader' isn't, ah, a literal cheerleader. (Don't make me dress him up in a skirt.) It just means... like, advertising and cheering her on. More of a cheer-leader (...which is probably an even more literal meaning actually).

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