She hangs the pictures made of noodles and glue on her wall and keeps them Forever
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Please, Hunter. Don’t take the kids to Pabu. We know what’s going to happen there. Please, take them to Rex. Please.
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Because Peter had discipline problems at school, his father decided he should enter the cadet-corps at school to learn about the importance of obedience.
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Saturday afternoon around a campfire for these Lyman Ward Military Academy cadets.
Alabama
1982
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Clone Wars Headcanon: urban legends
More specifically, imagine an urban legends around the seas of Kamino that all clones tell each other
It started with the trainers who told the stories to spook the older clones in behaving but they took that at face value and spread the stories to their younger Vod
17: be careful during the storms. You don't want to be lost like the sailors once were.
Fox: what happened?
17: they roamed the seas searching for land. It was said that on this land they would find the siren that cursed them to the seas.
Cody: but it's just us here?
17: yes which is why if you aren't careful, they may snatch you up, thinking you're the siren
Ponds: what do they want with the siren?
17: it's said only the heart of a siren thrown to the middle of the sea would lift the curse and bring land all across Kamino
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Cody: Should I do that babysitting job again this summer?
Rex:
Rex: Cadets chased you... through the woods... with spears.
Cody: I can neither confirm nor deny this.
Rex: Then what's with the stab wound?
Cody: Occupational hazard.
Rex: From babysitting cadets?
Cody:... Maybe
Rex: What did you do?
Cody: Revoked pudding rights and holonet access.
Rex: And now they're hunting you for sport.
Cody: Mostly...
Rex: Your Funeral.
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The future’s so bright…
March to the Brazos 2024-Texas A&M Corps of Cadets
Gig em Aggies 👍 Good bull
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Bertolt: Christa has green eyes right?
Reiner: Christas eyes are blue with a hint of light blue when the light hits just right.
Bertolt: And when was the last time she smiled?
Reiner: Last night at 12:03 am
Bertolt: Right, and when's my birthday?
Reiner:
Bertolt: When's my birthday, Reiner?
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Cabinet card of four cadets from Citadel Military Academy, c. 1890s
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So O’Brien was definitely hell on Cadets at the Academy right? Like he made it his life goal to remind them that being an Officer did not make you a god. Never unfair but by the stars every Cadet dreaded Engineering 101, which he teaches specifically so he gets a chance to put the fear of the Prophets into Security, Command, and Science. Every Ensign has his lessons branded into their minds by the time they graduate.
On the flip side, the minute an NCO, be they a Warrant Officer, Petty Officer, or a newly enlisted soul walks through the doors he is the sweetest most supportive man who ever lived. Coffee, a sympathetic ear, and advice. The entire enlisted ranks love “Mister Miles” and they fact that he terrifies the officer corps makes them love him even more.
In conclusion the LaForge kids and the Lower Decks ensigns live in perpetual fear of Miles O’Brien but the Prodigy kids are gonna love him.
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Me: *sprinting into class late* Sorry! I've had a killer migrane and fainted twice yesterday, so last night and this morning have been all out of wack.
Prof: ...Wait you fainted yesterday? Twice?!
Me: Yeah, one of them was in the middle of class even.
Classmate, who was sitting with me yesterday: When? How didn't anyone notice?
Me: Yeah, when I was in cadets I got in trouble for fainting, so I learned how to do so without drawing any attention. Sometimes I don't even fall over anymore.
Prof: ...congratulations, that is the most terrifying sentence I have ever heard.
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Kaiserzeit Prussian Cadets - Jackboots on Cobblestones, click click click.
Characters are from 'Moth', my upcoming graphic novel about Prussian Krieg Schul officers before wwi.
Top: Vincent Odinkirk
Left: Leon von Zelewski
Right: Gottlieb Witt
Bottom: Siegfried Isenstein
Vincent's Hawk is called Flosshild.
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ROTC // Bob Hicok
A bugle wakes the sky as boys hold hands over their hearts
and aim their eyes at a flag giving wind the only stars
it will ever touch.
When they twirl their wooden rifles, I see twelve planes
trying to take off made of human flesh and crewcuts.
My new envelopes taste of peppermint.
I will write and ask their mothers to send the blankeys
their sons went to bed with and held soft to their faces.
They will find in their attics the photo albums and baby shoes
which are the beginning of pacifism.
On weekends, the cadets wear clothes like the rest of us
wear and drink too much with the rest of us and scream
from the back of moving cars like everyone I know
is screaming and the Museum of Fire is burning down
and when they march on Monday, I think we’re being attacked
by leather shoes and hangovers.
The Museum of Ashes opens next week.
In their fatigues, the practice generals
look like shrubbery moving around campus and I’ve painted
my face over my face so hiding is what I do naturally.
When one of the cadets turns out not to be alive anymore
in Iraq because of how rude bullets are, they lower the flag
half way and speak of avenging blood, a name is chiseled
into stone, which is how the stone is moving
to the other side of town, piece by piece by name.
Little shadows live inside the names.
I’ve been trying to think of something more intimate
than the grave, possibly getting in there with the body
or carrying it around on my shoulders and stinking
of a perfume I like to call “What’s Our Hurry?”
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