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#aggressively types this
varpusvaras · 2 months
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Sometimes, during the darkest hours, Obi-Wan had the habit of saying that he was 'made for sadness'.
Quinlan was starting to think that he was made for it, too.
It was now that he understood more clearly than ever why the Order taught them to forego attachments. He understood it as he stared at the darkness ahead of him and found himself preparing to jump into it, if the word reached him.
He had thought he had gotten away from it as he had refused to visit the Guard medbay, to look at the glow of bacta against a body that by all accounts was out of reach of any healing in the Galaxy. But then again, he was still here, wasn't he? On Coruscant, roaming the lower levels, searching for something to do, telling himself that someone needed to do the dirty work, even though there were so many places that needed him more at the moment.
He wasn't sure how long it had been at this point, either. If soon someone would come and fetch him and tell him that he had been running from his obligations for long enough and that it was not how a Jedi should act, to tether himself to one person like this. It must've been days, if not longer than that. The darkness in his eyes had grown larger, at least, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the lack of sunlight this far down, or if it was because of something else entirely.
Someone did come down to look for him, but not a Jedi. Quinlan watched as the red of the armor pierced the darkness in front of him as the man made his way towards him.
"Get up", he said. Quinlan tilted his head.
"Isn't it a little dangerous for a clone to be alone this far down?" He asked.
"I'm with you", the man said. "And I said get up. I need you in the base, not rotting down here."
Quinlan laughed. Or at least he thought that he did.
"And what could you possibly need me for, Commander?" He asked.
He could feel his glare through the helmet.
"I need you to be on his kriffing bedside, after he almost died", he hissed, and then grabbed Quinlan's arm and yanked, hard. "Get up."
Quinlan blinked. The darkness took a step back, but didn't leave.
He could live with it.
He got on his feet and followed the Commander up.
---
The medbay was quiet, for once. It was almost eery, and felt more like he was stepping into a morgue.
Thorn still looked more dead than alive. His skin still had a sick pallor to it, and his hair looked more fried at the ends than just dyed lighter.
But he was breathing. Dead people didn't tend to breathe, so Quinlan had to believe it.
Dead people didn't open their dark eyes and look up at him, either, so he really had to believe it.
Thorn looked at him, a slightly far away look in his eyes for a moment, before he seemed to focus more on him. Then he smiled, just a little, like the expression was taking a lot out of him.
"Hey", he said. His voice was raspy, but the familiar warm tone was still there, just subdued for now. "Looking alive."
Quinlan tried to crack a smile. He tried to joke back. Yeah, you too. That would've been the perfect answer. It would've gotten the laugh out of both of them and made the medbay not so quiet anymore, and-
-he cried.
He lowered his head and cried, first silently and then out loud. There was a hand on his arm, fingers weakly wrapping around his wrist, and Quinlan all but collapsed on top of the bed, his forehead pressing against Thorn's chest. It kept rising at the rythm of his breathing. There was a beating heart under the skin and muscle and bones, still going on and on and on.
His tears did end pretty quickly. Maybe because all the time he had spent dredging along, the darkness closing in on him, finally caught up on him.
"C'mere." There was another hand on the back of his neck, trying to tug him closer, and Quinland definitely didn't have to be asked twice to crawl in the bed as well. He stayed there for a while, his face pressed against Thorn's shoulder, as he waited for his face to dry.
Finally, he got a strong enough grip of himself to lift his head.
Thorn was still looking at him, his eyes showing mostly exhaustion, but he kept them open neverthless. Quinlan felt rather stupid then. What had he been on about, thinking about belonging to sadness and darkness and all that, when all the while Thorn hadn't even been dead yet?
"I'm pathetic", he mumbled, more to himself. Thorn raised his brows a bit, and then smiled at bit more.
"Good for you", he said. "I happen to have a soft spot for men like you. Who look like they haven't slept in a week."
Quinlan looked at him, and he laughed. It was an actual laugh, this time, even if it was still breathless and coarse from how long he had not talked to anyone, but it didn't matter. Thorn was there, not caring a single bit about how pitiful Quinlan was, which was still, arguably, the funniest thing in the entire Galaxy.
He only stopped when Thorn shivered, it making his whole body rattle.
"Sorry", Thorn murmured. "It's just the acclimation to being out of bacta after so long. I'm fine."
"You want another blanket?" Quinlan asked.
"I already have three."
"You could use another three." Quinlan wasn't a healer, but he had been in bacta himself a few times by now. Healing from even minor injuries while being forced under gave everyone shivers and made it more difficult to keep warm, even only after a few hours of submergion. Thorn had been in for...Quinlan still wasn't sure exactly how long, but definitely longer than that.
"Mm-mmh", Thorn sighed, and closed his eyes. He moved a little closer, and tucked his head down, his nose pressing on Quinlan's throat. "I'm comfortable right now, though."
Quinlan understood the message. Don't you dare to move.
"Fine, fine", he said, and wrapped his arms around Thorn and his three blankets instead. Thorn made a rather content sounding soft noise, and then fell silent. Quinlan felt around with the Force carefully. Asleep, already.
He did need the sleep, and so did Quinlan, if he was being pefectly honest. He also most likely needed a shower and something to eat, but those could probably wait for a little longer.
There were careful, slow steps then coming towards them, and Quinlan turned around just enough to look at their source.
Fox was standing at the end of the bed, and his eyes met Quinlan's. He looked exhausted as well, with dark circles under his eyes showing clearly even on the tanned skin. He had probably been scrubbing his armor after pushing Quinlan into the medbay, as most of the grime was gone now.
Quinlan shot him a grin.
"All good here, Commander", he whispered. "Go to bed."
Fox rolled his eyes, though the usual hint of annoyance that the expression normally carried was missing this time. He stepped around the bed and combed his fingers through Thorn's hair once, and then, after a moment of hesitation, he patted Quinlan on the arm.
"You better stay there until he says otherwise", he said lowly, giving Quinlan a pointed look.
Quinlan couldn't help but let out another laugh under his breath.
"Don't worry", he said. "Never been better anywhere else than right here."
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and here's your annual reminder that jack-o'-lanterns were a tradition irish immigrants brought to the u.s., where (widely available) pumpkins fell into use over turnips & other root vegetables
(personally i regret this switch, as it means many of us missed the opportunity to grow up seasonally surrounded by friendly faces like these:
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)
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bluegiragi · 11 days
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Could we have some more Monster AU lore? Literally about anything in the universe, I really love your lore drops.
well if you insist...(jk i love talking about lore and I'm so super happy you guys let me infodump like this!!)
who wants to learn about dragons and hoards?
So a lot of people mistake hoards as the result of a dragon's passing interests but in reality (for the types of dragon that have this hoard instinct) it's an intense and obsessive compulsion.
Dragons pack a lot of firepower into a relatively dense body, and hoards give them an opportunity to put all that energy somewhere by providing for a hoard's 'needs', whatever they are. In the old times, it was most common for dragons to hoard wealth, land or knowledge but as time went on the variety in subject expanded. Now, hoards can range from innocuous/harmless topics like baseball cards to more complex subjects (like literal living beings).
The darker side to hoard instinct is how intense and possessive it is - the desire to monopolise and satisfy the needs of a hoard is all-encompassing, and it's not unheard of for dragons to go too far. Just like dating, dragons typically go through a few hoards in their lifetime (like passing hyper-fixations) before they find the one thing that'll be their hoard until they die. And after they find that one thing, the rest of their life is in some way dedicated to protecting, caring for and 'leaving their mark' on that thing. A big part of maturing for dragons is learning the self restraint required to not let these urges overtake them and turn them senseless.
Of all topics, hoards that center living beings are by far the most complex simply because living beings have agency and can't be entirely controlled. Price's hoard is the 141, and he has learned over time how to respect the lives of his boys. However, right after his and Ghost's final clash with Roba which resulted in life-changing events for both of them, he realised that he'd already subconsciously made Ghost 'hoard' in his mind.
The two of them fell into a co-dependent and borderline toxic relationship during their recovery. For Ghost, it was a combination of trauma-bonding and also a way to deal with his new powers/afflictions as a wraith. For Price, the recent loss of his wing had him falling back on other measures to help cling onto his dragon identity, and he overcompensated by going way too far on what was already a very fresh and concentrated hoard response. Of course there was still sincere affection backing up all of this, but they both ended up spiralling into something together.
It's always tough being THE hoard starter, as whatever it is will get an exorbitant response that lessens the more a hoard grows. It didn't help that Simon was in one of the most vulnerable and complicated moments of his life post-wraith-transformation. The co-dependency and possessiveness got to a point where higher-ups had to re-instate Price earlier than they wanted to and begin sending him out on missions again so that they could have some time apart. On one of those missions, Price met Gaz, and then later on, Soap.
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artiststarme · 1 year
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Steve had always wanted a dog. He wanted to cuddle on the couch, tug of war with old socks, and play catch in the yard. Most of all, he wanted a friend that would love him unconditionally.
So when he and Eddie got their first rundown house on the edge of Hawkins, he wanted to get a dog. They had a yard, savings in the bank, and plenty of time to spare between Eddie’s gigs and Steve’s school. He wanted a dog.
Eddie, though, wanted a cat. He was never a huge dog-lover. He didn’t really like the way dogs seemed so attached to their humans, they were too needy. He wanted a cat that kept to itself 23 hours of the day before finding its favorite person for minimal scritches and pets before disappearing once again to be a cat.
They were at an impasse. Neither one was backing down and after a two day silence streak, they reached a compromise. They would get a dog. Eddie could be reasoned with on the condition that they got a golden retriever because if he got a dog, you better believe it was going to be Steve’s twin.
With his acceptance, Steve brought home a puppy and named her Cinnamon. In a need to wreak havoc however, Eddie called her Van Halen and she only ever answered to that.
Years later when Van Halen was fully trained, Steve got his revenge. Eddie brought home a cat named Ozzy and Steve saw his chance. He called her exclusively Cuddlebug and from then on, she only answered to that.
It was so much worth it, seeing the grimace and full-body sigh Eddie took whenever he called her name. He learned the hard way that Steve holds a mean grudge (and usually gets payback in unexpected ways).
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curseofhyperfixation · 4 months
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Beta Collector everyone
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sad-leon · 4 months
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I've reblogged my moots' posts, but i want to say it for myself as well
I don't care what you make, I don't care what you support, as long as you tag your stuff properly, I have no problem with you
This goes for Tcest, April x Turtle, NSFW - if you create or engage in this content, you're welcome here as long as you don't force it onto me, which despite what a lot of people complain about, is not a problem I've run into
They're fictional characters, I just wanna have fun with my silly little turtles, and if you wanna have fun with these silly little turtles with me, you're welcome here
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thelordofgifs · 7 months
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gnashing my teeth about "Maglor is delusional and trying to write himself a redemption arc" takes ngl. he's just. he's SO self-aware. "his heart was sick and weary with the burden of the dreadful oath"!! he says Eärendil's Silmaril is "secure from all evil"!! and then points out that "less evil will we do in the breaking"!! the idea that Maglor is under the delusion that he is a good person is directly contradicted by the text and I will die on this hill actually.
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batshaped · 1 year
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i never know what tadano is talking about
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meteor752 · 7 months
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Idk if they’d be best friends or fucking hate each other, but I’m kinda inclined towards the latter
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autisticaradiamegido · 9 months
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day 226
team charge got me feeling emotions
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In goofy David Tennant/Michael Sheen Loud news, my husband stumbled upon an edit with David Tennant and Michael Sheen about how they’re In Love ® and he’s been solidly on the ‘Yeah, they’re prob fuckin’ train because of me & he was like, “I don’t get it, they’re not physically compatible at all, one is really skinny and the other is cherubic—“ and I was like bruh you literally described the one who plays an angel on TV as cherubic 💀 💀 💀 certifyibly Good ™️ casting big rare W to Neil Gaiman
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jeireilostt · 1 year
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GAY MONKEYS GAY MONKEYS GAY MONKEYS GAY MONKEYS
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p0ssym1lker · 1 year
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Ah yes, Jason, his guns, and his eldtrich god like being that happens to be the ghost kind or for some just the God of Death
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I like to think that outside of the archives Elias was known only as the silly, overenthusiastic, eccentric boss who enjoys paperwork way too much. Realistically he was equally feared by everyone but it makes the idea of Tim trying to expose the whole plot a lot funnier.
"Elias is evil and hes masterminding a terrible plan and if we don't stop him we'll all end up dead!"
"Elias....? Like, Elias Bouchard? The guy who religiously does his paperwork on the same day every week... The guy who once sat me down to ask if that weird plant in the hall was freaking me out?"
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vaspider · 2 years
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If you don't know what I'm talking about, well, sorry. Now you have to learn.
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It's a transphobic, victim-blaming mess from the bottom to the top. What's depressing is the number of prominent trans people who seem to think "ah yes, if only the Bad Trans would be quiet, then the cis would stop trying to genocide us! We could fix it, if only the Bad Trans would Go Away!"
No. These laws aren't coming into play because of non-binary people, no matter their genital configuration or desire to medically transition. They are coming into play because cishet society is threatened by us and hates us.
Do I need to say it again? Respectability and lateral aggression will not save you.
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r--kt · 2 months
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Minato in a nutshell
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you better stop spreading rumors and start looking after your children, young man.
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