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#THESE TWO

oh my god im now laying in bed and rewatching 6.13 and david saying that patrick went to talk to the people that lived in the house that david thought was NICE and who does that? GOOD people, says stevie DOES THAT REMIND YOU OF SOMETHING?

you’re a good person

i just need you to say nice person

you’re a good person

that’s not nice

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Rex and Anakin

4 out of 5 times one of them doesn’t want to deal with the other one.

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  • They are actually friends, they hangout…. not often though.
  • Rex and Anakin have invented several codes to talk about Padme if someone is present. Rex thinks it’s stupid to use the code around anyone but Obi-Wan.
  • Cause like- EVERYONE KNOWS
  • Anakin will try to get Rex to try anything south of normal. Eating live bugs, swinging from a vine, you name it.
  • Rex is the sane one out of the two of them. But Anakin can recall a few times it was Rex making Anakin do something stupid with him
  • He obviously did it. Rex refuses to acknowledge what he asked Anakin to do. When it’s brought up, he’ll say he was drunk and he doesn’t remember.
  • He remembers all of it.
  • Anakin can sense Rex carries a deep pain in him, he trys not to check overly in on Rex, but after every mission, Anakin can sense a part of Rex that isn’t the same.
  • When Anakin had confronted Rex on it, he usually can say he doesn’t want to talk about it and Anakin lets it be. But after Umbara Anakin sat down with Rex, who was trying to be strong, Anakin didn’t get anything out of Rex. He never learned why Rex didn’t tell him.
  • Rex was angry for Anakin not being there. He tried not to blame the General or the Jedi. But he couldn’t help it, so for a while he was more cold towards Anakin. He understood why, but he knew better than to tell Rex that.
  • They usually only have real conversations when they’re tipsy or on a high. Rex is usually too guarded to let Anakin’s dumbassary get to him. But Rex doesn’t mind being reckless with his General everynow and then.
  • They’ve absolutely gone to a diner late at night and talked about nothing and everything. They’ll laugh for hours and talk about things they’ll never mention. That’s what lead Anakin to tell Rex about Padme.
  • Rex was on Geonosis with Padme and has maintained his friendship with her, so after Anakin told Rex about the two of them, they all hang out every now and then.
  • The adventures of Anakin, Padme and Rex are not to be disclosed though.
  • Anakin’s anger is unstable, he was ranting to Rex one day, Anakin doesn’t remember what he did or said, but he remembers seeing Rex flinch. And he’s never forgotten it.
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10. [thigh touch] - Your muse slides their hand slowly up my muse’s thigh, gazing at them the entire time to gauge their response.
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Darkness filled the living room too quickly that evening, with only a single lamp that stayed lit in the corner.  A glass of red wine stood untouched on the coffee table opposite the love seat where Lori had been reading a book.  The Orchardist sat upon her lap, open to page 53, still a new read for the housewife, but so far, it was a book she couldn’t put down.

She’d been so engulfed in the book that she didn’t hear the front door, and she didn’t feel the seat alter beside her.  It was only until she’d felt her husband’s hand on her thigh that caused her eyes to shift in his direction.

Lori scooted a little, moving the book so it was easier for his hand, then actually stopped reading to look at him.  “Rick,” Lori murmured before she rested her head back against the couch to gaze into his gorgeous blue eyes.  That look, it always made her heart leap into her throat.  He’d been staring at her while his hand slid up and down her thigh.  She blushed, reaching down and placing her and atop his own.  Their eyes met with an intensity.  Instead of pushing him away, she grabbed his collar to pull him on top of her, lying backwards on the couch - kissing him deeply. 

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“It’s late.  Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Dev and Atrophy :3

For your listening pleasure and the inspirational song for this prompt, I suggest one listen to “Someone Else’s Story”, from Chess in Concert.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She couldn’t sleep, which was a common enough occurrence. 

Her body hung in a delicate balance between life and death, caught in an endless cycle of pain that she had caused by choice and now couldn’t end.  It was the curse of an experiment she had agreed to…all for what?  Recognition?  The self-satisfaction of knowing she was right?

Cecile propped herself up on the front step of the little condominium she had..ah..borrowed from its previous inhabitant.  Here she can look up at the India sky, trying to pick a few stars from the tatters of cloud and black patches of night that passed overhead. 

“It’s late.  Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Cecile turned her head to the doorway behind her, to the shadowy figure in long, colorful robes.  He would advance, step by careful step, ever so formal and stiff and deliberate in his every action…!

He would stop behind her, not quite sitting down, yet.  Though he acted like he didn’t really care, he was conscious of his own appearance and the state of his clothing.

Fire raced through her veins instead of blood.  It burned and itched in a way she could neither really describe nor relieve. 

So she would shake her head.  She never really had a reason or a desire to lie to this man.

“I can’t.”

She had done it to herself…tried to give herself a power she was never meant to have.  She’d become the first Synthetic superhuman, with dire consequences.  A life of anguish in return for her attempts to reach godhood.

Ah…but despite the state of her heart, her mind..despite herself, he would only look at her with kindness.  Perhaps a touch of sadness, too.  

“You should sleep, Dev,” Cecile would answer.  She would then curl herself a little tighter, tearing her gaze from him in hopes he would go back inside.  

She was afraid of him never really caring for her.  She was afraid he would never stop. 

But Dev wouldn’t leave.

No.

That wouldn’t be like him.

Instead, he would sit down beside her, the wooden porch step creaking under their combined weight.  And he would look at her with his great, flickering eyes..so old, set in such a young face..!

He would find her hand, covered in black gloves, and he would hold it in his brown, sunkissed ones.  His hands had wiped tears from the faces of orphans, helped them get dressed, served them meals, picked up their messes, carried sleeping children to bed…

…His hands dealt only kindness, and they were open to the weak and defenseless. 

Did he think of her in that way?

It would take a moment, but Cecile would finally, slowly, give into his stubborn kindness.  She would rest her head on his chest, and they would search for stars together.  He wouldn’t touch her bare skin - if he touched her, her Synthetic abilities would cause him much pain - but he would hold her very gently, as if she were something easily broken.

Or perhaps as if she were something incredibly precious.

She would…and he would…

…If he were actually there, of course.

Cecile’s hand groped at empty air.

The fire burned in her veins, and its scorching heat made her skin warm and her vision cloudy.  She was propped up on the front stop of a little condominium she had borrowed from an absentee owner, the India sky over her head, and her body burned with the recurring fever that had plagued her ever since she agreed to become the world’s first Synth.

And she was utterly, entirely alone.

Cecile’s eyelids flickered dangerously.  Sleep, a troubled, hazy sleep, tugged at her senses.  It hardly offered peace, but it promised relief from the relentless pain, the throb of her head and the fire in her joints and the stabs that any light source made to her eyes. 

It promised another feverish dream..one of love and care and gentleness she’d come to realize was never hers..could never be hers.

So she curled herself on the wooden railing, holding her head precariously in a cupped palm.  Cecile could dream…and were she capable of prayers, she would pray that Dev would return to her.

Even if he only ever would come in a dream.  

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TTK Alphabet

F is for Friends

John and Nat were practically raised as brothers. Nat grew up in an abusive house, in the shadow of the castle of John’s family. John and Nat became close friends, John using his influence to save Nat from his situation. The two grew up as close as siblings. John would do anything for Nat and Nat would go anywhere to follow John.

Taglist: @authoressasusual @you-reblogged-from @word-by-word @trapped-inadystopianovel @wanderingalonelypath @mysthicrider @thebestmollygrue @reignnyx @viola-cola @anomaly00 @thewordsinthesky-andstars @heldinhishands @ladywithalamp @lil-mephistopheles @dawnoftheagez @writing-in-rain @saxoniowrites

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( + )

@cealach

jaskier had been quite unsuspecting , he was simply sitting on a bench enjoying the sun with his journal in one hand and his quill in the other . his ink pot sitting next to him . it was times like these were jaskier truly managed to enjoy the sounds of mother nature . she was the most beautiful maiden of them all . the bird’s soft songs as they flew from tree to tree , from the sounds of the grass swaying gently in the wind ; jaskier was quite frankly in love with it . 

the bard was trying to grab some inspiration . with his head gently cocked back and his eyes shut , listening , soaking in the atmosphere ; sun’s rays gently kissing his skin like a lover . he let out a soft sigh , nothing was coming to his mind , no lyrics flooding into his brain that he immediately wanted to write down in his journal . he was about to give it up for today , call it quits and head back inside , perhaps make himself some wine and grab some fruit ; but he felt a gentle pressure of something being placed on his head and his eyes shot open , blessing the world with his beautiful cornflower blue eyes . he turned his head to the side and he saw the familiar armour of his favourite knight and he grinned . “ cahir ! “ he chirped and stood , journal and quill now abandoned on the bench . 

right - something was sitting on his head right now . he reached up and gently touched it - petals . had the knight made him a flower crown ? oh ! oh ! the troubadour was frankly ecstatic , a grin reaching ear to ear on his face and he embraced the other tightly , his arms slipping around cahir’s neck to bring him close . “ oh thank you ! it’s beautiful “ he spoke genuinely before he pulled away , his hands then gently cupped the knight’s face and he stared for a moment ; before he brought the other in close and pressed a multitude of kisses on him : one on each cheek , then his forehead and finally , the tip of cahir’s nose . showing his gratitude . 

“ it’s simply amazing ! “ jaskier praised , hands still cupping cahir’s face . his palms warm , finger tips calloused from playing the lute … but the touch was soft and comforting . 

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