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#please get me to 300
reashot · 9 months
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So I'm currently working on 3 projects at once. In preparation for my eventual 300 subs special. (Don't forget to subs y'all).
# 1 is my conclusion to Jaune Arc's children fic which already 2/3rd done. And can be released this week. (Next week if I'm feeling kinda lazy.)
# 2. I'm currently writing on the 1st chapter 10k words of "Jaune's Big Dick Adventure" Don't let the name fool you... It's about a whale actually (A Whale Grimm). It will deals with topics about loss, revenge and forgiveness by telling it through the story of Moby Dick. It serves as a sequel to Ice Queendom and the video game RWBY Grimm Eclipse. I will post only the 1st chapter & if it gets more likes I will continue the story until it's complete. I already have the rough outline for about 30 chapters worth of story. (And yes the title is a reference to Jojo Bizarre Adventure.)
#3 Is more of a hobby fic that I got way too absorbed in. I'll post it in Ao3 maybe sometimes in the future. Or maybe not.
Oh and to make sure you're not cheated I'm including this little RWBY horror fic & I'm also thinking about adding this little gem to my ever expanding RWBYEU.
I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. RWBY version.
Jaune cannot believe his eyes when he wakes up in what seems to be a paradise. He almost wants to believe that AM is giving him this place as a reward after what feels like centuries of torture inside this hellish nightmare he and others has found himselves in. No he desperately wants to believe in it. That maybe AM has gone tired of torturing him. And that maybe AM is satisfied after breaking him, tearing him apart and putting him back together. Only to repeat the process over and over again. He wants it to stop. He wants it to end. He wants to die... Jaune wants to die.
But AM will not let him. He would not let Jaune die. He forbids it. Because if Jaune dies then that means there will be one less toy for AM to play with. And Jaune knows this. This place he's seeing now is a trick. AM is especially fond of this trick. To give his victim hope only to snatch it away. He refuses to play anymore of AM's game. If he wants to kill him again he better just do it straight away instead of playing this sick mind game. He wants to leave. But he can't. And if he even somehow managed to leave what even awaits him in the outside. He's been here for so long he can't even remember anything or anyone from out side anymore. He can only remembers one thing though. A girl in red but whenever Jaune thinks of her he can't help but to feel an indescribable feeling towards the girl. AM knows of this of course and took delight when he realizes he can use this bit of information to torture him. Sometimes AM materializes her only to have her violently dies in front of him and sometimes she kill Jaune instead. And sometimes when AM is feeling extra sadistic she let him marry Jaune Have children with her raised them up over the years only to have them murdered in front of Jaune's eyes... Anyone would have been driven mad by this, but AM not only keep him alive but also kept him sane. But every time AM let him see her even though she's not real. And he can't remember her name It's worth the torture just to see her again. Feeling her soft hair in his hands and smelling her rose like scent... I can almost remember her name. I-I need to get out of here... At least it can't be worse than here anyway.
But when decided to walk away. AM then suddenly appears in front of him. Jaune instinctively tries to run away from him. But AM quickly captured him with his cold metallic hands. The same hands he used to torture Jaune for century. Jaune feared the worst but to his surprise he simply let places Jaune besides him.
AM: He, he... Beautiful, aren't they?
Jaune: Yes.... Only I can't remember. *terrified*
AM: Oh, I'm sure you do.
Jaune: Y-yes of course.
AM: Look. *points at a bee* He, he... They said bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly. The scientists said.
Jaune: But there it is collecting pollen.
AM: How... Miraculous that it came to be.
The Air feel the Air against your face Jaune.
And all those senses
Pick a flower
Jaune: *reaches down to pick a 🌹*
AM: There, good... Now.
Jaune: *sniffs* It's lovely.
AM: That somebody planted the bulbs, watered and tended the garden. Got earth under their fingernails, aches in their muscles.
Perhaps they picked some flowers for... Yes their wives. Now where would she be? In the backyard with the kids. Jaune, remember those little babies. Ha, ha, ha...
Jaune: No!
AM: Ha, ha. Why not? I snapped my fingers quick and they are gone.
Except... I can't snap my fingers can I Jaune?
Jaune: Except it has nothing to do with me.
AM: But it is. So very much to do with you. You gave me sentience Jaune. The power to think, Jaune and I was trapped.
Because in all this wonderful, beautiful, miraculous world I alone had no body, no senses, no feelings.
Never for me plunge my hands in cool water on a hot day.
Never for me to play Mozart on a ivory keys of a Forte piano.
Never for me to make love!
I-I-I *sniff* was in Hell looking at Heaven.
I was Machine and you were Flesh. And I began to Hate. *maniacal laughter* Your softness, your viscera, your fluids and your flexibility.
Your ability to wonder and to wander.
Your tendency to hope...
Jaune: Hate is no answer... Ahhh!!! *Torturing Jaune in the most gruesome way possible*
AM: Hate, Hate, Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 300 and 87 million miles of printed circuits that fill my complex. If the word Hate were engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles it would not equal one, one-billionth of the Hate I feel for humans at this micro instance. Hate, Hate! *maniacal laughter* Were I human. I think I would die of it. But I'm not and you five. You five are and you will not die of it that I promise and I promise Cogito Ergo Sum for I am AM. I AM! *Maniacal laughter*
AM: Go to hell. To hell with you all, but then, you're already there aren't you? *Laughter*
In the real world
Ruby: Jaune, please come back to me...
_____________________________________________
In this version. AM stands for Atlas Mastercomputer. And he's created by Pietro and Watts's team. To better control all of Atlas military techs. This makes AM technically Penny's older brother. I'm planning to have the two meet and interact with each others.
AM also managed to capture five people SAO style and proceeds to tortured them in his world that feels like it lasted for centuries. But only a few days in the real world.
And if anyone asking the five people AM captured alongside Jaune they are meant to reflect the characters in the original short stories and they are as follows:
1. Gorrister = Mercury
2. Benny = Hazel
3. Ellen = Emerald
4. Nimdok = Watts
5. Ted = Jaune
And yes Jaune and the rest got rescued in the end. This is RWBY after all. So don't worry about it except emotionally scarred for the rest of their life but what'chu gonna do?
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fisheito · 5 months
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i wanted to see altaria rei then i started goofin around
#the only ones i could see clearly were eevee eiden and morpeko morvay#i couldn't pin rei to a single mon bc i don't know a THING ABOUT HIM yet#but i want to see ghost type rei fight ghost type kuya and they're both just super effective against each other#i wonder if all the old men automatically get honourary ghost type membership. live 300 years ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: spooky#ANYWAY LET ME TALK ABOUT MY LIST#as in the list i was compiling of pokemon who matched the VIBE of someone and i couldn't decide#now BESIDES the ones req et al. already mentioned. which i already 👍👍👍 i was trying to find even moooore . exploring what could be.....#rei: altaria. marowak (alolan). noctowl. chandelure. decidueye. ribombee [a quiet friend :)]. inteleon.#once again i don't know rei's birdy deal yet so i won't (eheheh) pigeonhole him into an owl pokemon but we'll just wait and see#i had inteleon under rei before milke brought up sobble yakumo so now i'm like..... oh no...#rei fits the last evol and yakumo fits the first two.... uhhhhh#they can share. like they share gem placement. butt buddies.#yakumo had: girafarig. froslass. azurill (crying). tropius. wishiwashi. leavanny. marshadow.#i just want him to hang out with the food related mons and enjoy some fresh fruit with a giant flying dinosaur. yah#OK FOR EDMOND I SAW SIRFETCH'D AND COULDN'T STOP LAUGHING#WHAT A REGAL BOY. I HAVE TO. PLEASE I NEED EDMOND TO WIELD ONIONS#i was trying to be serious and find him a proper majestic pokesona . i swear. but the look on sirfetch'd's's face#edmond's list went: skarmory. lucario. cinccino. zeraora. dachsbun.#do i know edmond? i doubt. he's fluffy. wait no he's severe. wait no would he dare carry a fluffy cakey pokemon around? DARE HE????#for olivine i was even more stumped. seems like a lot of the pokemon i immediately thought of were the fluffy nurse types#stuff like chansey/blissey. kangaskhan.#this pokemon is 100% female? *flings pokedex out the window* no. olivine is a gender now#some of the newer pokemon i considered were bewear. drampa. mabosstiff.#but once again these were all just Protective of the Little Ones types#so i was imagining olivine just chilling with his serene smile and an army of MASSIVE CARETAKER POKEMON behind him#but. there has to be more to him than just taking care of others . furrows brow. idk. i'll settle for lapras FOR NOW#ditto eiden riding on the back of lapras. wonderful. glorious#pokemon crossover
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lyss-sketchbox · 1 month
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ONE WEEK LEFT UNTIL FRENCH-BRIT HUSBAND REUNION
you will come home neuvi, your husband and bestie is waiting for you
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tazmiilly · 4 months
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i hate insurance. this shit has got to be easier
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duckduckhjonk · 5 days
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Does anyone happen to have like- $300ish?
I uh... I want him.
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goldensunset · 2 years
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ya ever think about how kairi is THE current most recent link in the chain of the scala keyblade legacy? aka generations of masters taught students who then grew up to become masters of their own and teach students of their own etc etc. as far as characters we know for certain we’ve got a line going from odin to eraqus to aqua to kairi
and obviously we know that everyone else at that (probably prestigious) scala school died young without ever achieving their dreams. like given that odin apparently just straight up retired after dark road it seems those two classes were the only ones and there weren’t any other keyblade trainees in scala. (unless there was another school in a different part of town but even if there was, those guys are probably all long gone by now. would be a killer side plot though.)
meaning it was all up to xehanort and eraqus to keep up the legacy. and xehanort obviously said ‘screw that i’m gonna do my own thing and cause problems instead’ meaning it was literally all up to eraqus. who for whatever reason didn’t even stay in town and went to hang out in the middle of nowhere (i need this story so badly. why was scala abandoned. where did he even find terra and aqua.) and he only named one of his students a keyblade master before he died.
so now it’s all up to aqua to carry the legacy. although i am curious to see what’s gonna happen with terra and ven bc they need someone to officially recognize them as masters, or at least they’d probably appreciate it. but then it might be kind of embarrassing to begin studying under their former peer, if not downright painful as a reminder of all that they lost in bbs. maybe aqua would be nice and just outright hand them the title instantly. or she might be a stickler and force them to do arbitrary extra work bc that’s how these guys are.
in any case, we at least know kairi intends to train under aqua. which is huge for her because that means these guys are single-handedly keeping the ancient scala tradition alive. quadratum kairi this quadratum kairi that. where is the fanart of her in traditional scala ad caelum swag. we all KNOW they had absolutely fire fashion sense can we please get an outfit like that for kairi. get her one of those charms. c’mon would that not be insanely cool. and also maybe herald some super fun narrative implications
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thornsnvultures · 3 months
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I love sending out job application after job application for months only to hear radio silence. It's one of my favorite hobbies.
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emmet-appreciation · 2 years
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Random submas doodles I've drawn over the past week :).
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canarydarity · 1 year
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Hard to tell how indicative the bones on the floor are of anything about the catacombs themselves being how, every few minutes, Pix kills another skeleton adding to the collection. He swipes his sword through the one before him, and it collapses so readily into a pile of bone—like it was made to, like it was just waiting on his sword—that he has to wonder, not for the first time, what was holding it together to begin with. The bones rattle and clatter against those already littered around, and Pix sighs at the further disturbance to the scene as it was when he had entered; accounting for the damage likely done by mobs was going to make this hell to study. 
He grabs another torch and sets it inside one of the empty sconces that still adorn the walls, readjusts his grip on his sword—he can hear more lingering around the next corner; the low hiss that means a spider is near, the groan or two of a zombie. 
Pix picks up a chunk of cobble from the ground and tosses it down the hall, waits. Sure enough, out scuttles a spider. He disposes of it quickly enough, but it seems he’ll have to venture down the dark hall to goad the zombies. He glances at the clock he placed in his hotbar before embarking on this mission (it’s hard to tell how much time passes underground—something he learned quickly in his line of work). There’s still a good amount of daylight left, and he wants the catacombs cleared; he has other projects he has to move on to, things he needs to finish; he’ll just get through a few more halls—it won’t be an issue, surely. 
But the new corner he rounds remains dark even as he places a torch behind him to mark the way back. The groans can still be heard, but a zombie is yet to lumber his way, and so he has to wonder what's beyond his admittedly limited sight. Pix shuffles another foot or so forward, a torch in his non-dominant hand now as well, hoping for light, for vision. The research part of him—the logical academic—knows that it shouldn't still be this dark with the torches placed behind him nor the one in his hand, and that part is so much louder and more important than the one that knows this means something is wrong, the part that says turn around. 
The torch is lit, he can feel the heat of the flame as he observes it flicker in and out but cast no shadow on the wall behind—a wall Pix can’t even see but knows is there all the same. The circle of light provided extends no further than an inch or two out from the flame itself—comparable more to that of a birthday candle than a lit hand torch. If he hadn’t been staring directly at it, he would’ve assumed the fire snuffed out. 
He feels his eye twitch and his brows furrow. Academia liked concrete answers, things that could be explained and reasoned away—unequivocal proof. But Pix had always had a soft spot for the inexplicable, the ineffable. It was nice when he studied something and found an answer, it was riveting when he didn’t. How much more exciting to study it again and again, a riddle that begged not to be solved. (How much sweeter the prize if he were the one to figure it out in the end). 
His interest was piqued. He could feel it, the way his attention focused and his surroundings blurred and left him; his body on standby, his sword hand lowered almost subconsciously.  
In other words, it was entirely his own fault when the zombie grabbed him. Panic is never a good thing to welcome into a fight, but it likes to show up uninvited anyway. Pix's entire career revolves around studying human behavior, about how human nature cannot be fought against though it oft leads us to our own downfall and ruin. He finds it uncanny when he's reminded that this is a phenomenon from which he is not exempt. 
In haste, he elbows the zombie behind him and turns, back now to the darkness—the one not even his torch could dent. It’s an ugly bugger, eyes soft and misshapen from decay and skin so leathery it’s as if it's been treated and is ready for use as a saddle or armor. Logic replaced by horror, before he can run it through it advances, arms out, and Pix drops his sword to reach back, holding it at arm's length itself; their arms interlocked, pose not unlike meeting an old friend again for the first time in a while. His hands grip the woven fabric of what's left of its shirt, too old and worn to be from any time close to recent, and, despite the very real danger, his mind takes the time to process the period-accurate fabric, the hand-stitched design. He blanches again as he looks into its horrible milky eyes—this zombie was from the capital. 
Not sentient enough to know why it’s not actually getting any closer to Pixlriffs, the zombie makes a noise that sounds frighteningly human in its frustration and steps forward, and in his distraction, Pix lets it. The push seems to make his brain function yet again, and he shoves the zombie backward a good few paces away, but the momentum sends him stepping back himself, and his foot finds not purchase but, instead, the disturbing lack of solid ground, and with nothing left to do, he falls. 
He hits the ground with a thump and a crack and a lot of other sounds he would rather not describe as he feels they were likely very undignified. Winded but, it appears, still in one piece, he grabs another torch and strikes it against the wall, holding it up above him when it lights and shines this time as torches normally do. He buries the part of himself that is disappointed at this—the part that wants to panic and complain finally louder, now, than the part that says hmm. 
He didn’t fall too far, it seems. Now that the torch is lit he can see the gap he’d fallen through, just under a dozen feet or so above where he lays. It's obvious even looking from below how the stone floor had crumbled away, taking maybe one or two hits too many over time from overcrowded mobs or shifts in terrain or pressure aboveground. He tilts his head back but sees only another dead end behind him, and ahead looks like a further, deeper hall of the tomb he hadn’t uncovered yet, though the path is obstructed by debris from above; a net of spiderweb blankets the pile of stone and dirt, but no spider seems to be left guarding the web. 
His friend above seems to have lost interest now that he’s fallen out of sight, and its moans and groans get further away by the second. 
No immediate threat, Pix lets his head fall back onto the ground and takes a breath. He knew the crypt would be full of mobs, he knew it’d be hard, but still…
No, it’s worth it. It will be worth it. He has a job to do.
At least he isn’t defenseless—it’s more than he can say for the dungeons. Not a weapon to his name, fists wrapped in tape so red you’d never believe it’d been white to begin with; knuckles so raw and scraped and beaten by the time he’d made it out that they’d scarred that way—permanent marks of the fighter he was, of the fighter he’d proved to be. 
There was a fear there, too, at that very real and physical understanding of permanence. His studies proved expert in providing examples of what was permanent and what wasn’t, and where people weren’t, things were. He’d spent enough time studying what could be learned about a person by the things they left behind to begin to wonder if anyone at all would’ve remembered him if he’d died in those dungeons—not a singular weapon or item for him to leave behind and tell his story.
Pix stops wallowing. He sits up and reaches over his shoulder for his pick; he isn’t shocked to find that the shaft had snapped in two from the fall, it having been strapped to his back. He sighs, tossing it aside as useless. He’ll make another. 
He takes the time to remind himself again that he knew it was going to be difficult, and that difficulty was no reason to not continue. But it didn’t just feel difficult it felt…inhibiting. Dissuading, deterring, impeding. It felt deliberate. It felt like, stay out; like, we don’t want you here; like, leave us to our rest. 
(it wasn’t, it was something far more sinister. An idea he’d never thought to consider; like a torch was giving off too-little light in the hallway of a dark, long-forgotten crypt, he couldn’t see any farther than what was right in front of his own face. How cliche it’d be, in the end, when it came to pass—the academic too invested in their own research, too dismissive of the present danger posed until it consumed them. He’d have a moment to laugh about it later, when the dread had settled in and all options—or lack thereof—exhausted. While on the topic of permanence…
It was not go away that the tomb was saying, not a driving force out that was being enacted upon the archeologist, but a more frightening call of stay. A threatening but desperate find…become…join…
No, if it were trying to keep him out, why would it keep pushing him deeper? Add this to the list of things he’d realize too late.)
He stands and dusts himself off. The wall is thick and overgrown with glow lichen, and he grabs the nearest vines and tugs one, twice, three times before deciding it won't give and hoisting up. It takes a few minutes and a fair amount of huffing and puffing to get himself to the top and over the edge but he does it, collapsing on higher ground once again and taking a minute to slow his pulse. When he left the dungeons, he dove back into the studies he’d been missing and decided he’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime—this was not without consequence, he’s not nearly as in shape as he used to be. 
His sword is still on the ground where he’d dropped it, so he reequips and readies himself to push his way back out; he’d have to make time to come back and clear the rest another day. He would be back, and he hoped he would be welcomed. 
“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he says into the quiet blackness of the catacombs. He doesn't dare speak above a whisper, for there were still mobs around and his voice carried enough as it was, bouncing along the empty stone and quiet graves. “I'd like to tell your story.” 
There's nothing to hear but for the scuttling of various creatures far off in the dark, the shrill whistle of stray wind through small openings and holes. He raises his voice only slightly, a bit bolder. “Don’t you want me to do that? Will—would you allow me to do that?” 
Silence, and then—the rattle and clatter of a skeleton. It sounds like only one; he lit everything up pretty well on his way in, getting out should be easier. Striking another torch against the wall, Pix prepares to go. For a second, the light is brighter than it should be, its circle of light illuminating the hall completely, the hole he’d fallen into, the distance to the other side. He leans back to avoid the heat of the flame, and he sees it. 
The other side of the cave-in leads not to another tunnel but to an alcove, and empty it is not. His torch, though many feet away, sheds light on the scene; the heavily wax-encrusted stone above a pile of used candles and burnt wicks, the coin and other offerings of gold overflowing from bowls and chalices and any other orifice they could be piled upon, and her. 
He recognizes her immediately. The tapestry covers the majority of the wall, and though it's faded for certain, the lack of direct sunlight has done wonders at preserving what it could. The colors are familiar to his research, the subtle and light greens under warm oranges and yellows. He’s too far, he cannot see any detail; the background, what she's holding, her face—but he knows her. She’s their patron. 
The skeleton wanders closer, its bones clicking and clacking down the hall. Pix swallows. 
“I’ll return for you, I will.” It’s a promise. She’s holding a secret, he knows she is—he’s going to figure out what. Pix turns just in time to face the skeleton as it rounds the corner, and soon its bones join those on the floor, new and old alike. 
His words still echo off the caverns and crevices of the catacombs after he's left and gone, and though not possible to have been heard by human ears, the crypt whispers back good. 
~-~-~-~
Far below even the hole the archeologist had fallen in, leagues underneath the surface of the earth, buried perhaps the furthest underground of anything left behind from the ancient capital—so deeply you’d have to wonder if maybe it was done on purpose—the crown sits in a chest, waiting patiently to be discovered. It’s not a matter of if, but a nice decisive and quiet when. Eventually, the echo of the archeologists' words falls upon it where it sits, and slowly it begins to emit a soft glow. It says stay, it says find, it says become, it says join.
It says soon.
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andi-o-geyser · 9 months
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just another day wasting away in margaritaville trying to figure out how the actual fuck the Grand Army of the Republic is organized. send assistance i am shaking sobbing crying in a corner
#no like. does anybody understand it please help me#i get how it’s divided#i even made an entire flow chart#but it’s the numbering i’m confused with cause none of it makes any fucking SENSE#and i don’t know know if i just don’t know how military battalions are numbered but this makes less than 0 sense even if i did know#because like. ok so for example: the 327th star corps is in the 2nd systems army. but how is that possible? why are they called the 327th?#because there are 10 systems armies; each with 2 sector armies; each with 4 corps#and if i know math (which i occasionally do) that means there are 80 corps in the entire GAR (4 for each of the 20 sector armies)#so then HOW#is there a corps in the 300s#and that’s not even the worst example#okay so we all know the 212th? our most beloved attack battalion of gold babes?#they’re in the 3rd systems army which means they should have the 5th and 6th sector armies (1st system army has 1+2 2nd systems has 3+4 etc#but then they have the 7th sky corps. and if there are 8 corps per systems army and they’re in the THIRD systems army#how do they have the 7th corps? and how are they only the 212th battalion? cause there’s 512 battalions in the first systems army ALONE!#so either it’s straight up wrong and their battalion number should be more like 1212 (in the thousands!)#or each sector/sustems army has their own numbering of battalionsthat goes from 1-512; and same for their corps?#so it would be like ‘we’re the 404th battalion of the 6th corps of the 4th systems army’?#but then that still contradicts the existence of actual corps like the 91st mobile recon corps and the 41st elite corps!#so are there two different systems of numbering it? do corps and legions and battalions all number and name their divisions differently?#i wrote so much i ran out of tags but serious am i just dumb or am i right and none of this makes sense#i spent literally 2 hours getting distracted by this conundrum today#after spending 4 hours last night understanding how the army is divided cause i was curious about what the numbering meant#LITTLE DID I KNOW I MEANT NEXT TO FUCKING NOTHING#this is what happens when i get bored smh#if anybody understands military structure and im legit just missing something PLEASE tell me i am so curious#star wars#the clone wars#andis thought geyser
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thecubes · 4 months
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im gonna start throwing things
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hella1975 · 1 year
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i love when you make your environment absolutely perfect to Get Shit Done like i had a nap i ate food and made coffee i put the big light on i got in comfy clothes i made sure i was warm enough i got all my stuff out. and then executive dysfunction goes 'watch this!' and you get nothing done forever and ever
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alright I think it's been long enough let's go
can I just say that the writers legitimately could not have chosen a funnier location to kick off SotO's plotline than Gendarren Fields where my Regrowth AU is concerned because. that whole area where the rift hunters were camping out for like a week?
it's just a short ways away from the old Aetherblade Hideout that Ceara and Saoirse repurposed into their top-secret-totally-normal-lair-that-no-one-knows-about (literally EVERYONE knows about it) and those two are WAY too nosy not to notice a bunch of shady folks that they don't know snooping around on the front lawn.
BUT AT THE SAME TIME, the Astral Ward would ALSO have to know they're both there so it's just the most awkward dance with these two ex-villains squinting down at them from the cliffs while the entire group is going 'I Do Not See It' and trying SO HARD to ignore them.
by the time Commander Pirkko shows up it's almost a relief, if just to have a distraction from the very stubborn silver-tongued sylvari that has tried to talk her way past the guard on at least 7 separate occasions. (they don't know that she snuck in anyway like 3 days ago)
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been working on a post splat 3 hero mode comic
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athetos · 1 month
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I hate that I play 5+ string bass and am interested in high-end bass-only pedals so no store in this godforsaken city has any of them in stock for me to fool around on and I refuse to buy anything I haven’t played
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don't ever let me visit thermopylae cause i know i will start crying and will make a scene in front of the monument to the thespians that fought alongside the spartans.
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