izzy's playlists!
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YOU ARE THE REASON
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
⁂
noise dept.
Sade Olutola
Discoholic 🪩
wallacepolsom
$LAYYYTER
i don't do bad sauce passes
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
we're not kids anymore.
tannertan36
KIROKAZE
PR's Tumblrdome
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@leftlore
CARRD ( rules / muses / connections )
an independent, private & selective multimuse for both canon and original characters. featuring muses from dragon age, star wars, disney, the elder scrolls & more. multiverse & multiship. nurtured by august. 18+.
blogroll: @whatmust / bcnes graphics: underesources
LOOK OUT WORLD , TRACER'S HERE !!
like and reblog if winton.
Alistair be so for real with me, did we have a third kid I somehow knew nothing about
Hey, if I'd been pregnant you'd have been the first to know, believe me.
your biggest fear is what? all your loved ones dying? oh... no yeah that makes sense. reasonable, for sure. it's just that i was going to say mine is developing lactose intolerance but it sounds kind of stupid now compared to yours
plastering up posters of nod with 'FREE TO A GOOD HOME' written on them
you can put anything in your mouth. but sometimes only once
@starswears sent / the smoke’s normal, right? / GIVE ME THE MAGICIAN AND TWEED RIGHT NOW OR I'LL DIE..
He's not sure what the Magician calls this, but Tweed's calling it forced family fun time, and it ain't really all that fun. He looks up from his cards across the table at him, brow cocked and expression as put-upon as his tone sounds. "The what?"
He looks over his shoulder, around, then - oh, right. That smoke.
"Oh, shoot, that?" His expression lightens at the distraction from this miserable card game they've got going on. The Hanged Man swings his boots off the table, chair thudding onto the floor as it lands back on all four legs. Broad strides take him over to the window where he leans so far out it's a miracle he doesn't topple head-over-heels down onto the red-rock spires below him, waving his hat and hollering. His free hand beckons the Magician over to join him.
"Lookin' good, fellas!" He shouts down at the ragtag assembly gathered down in the valley. A truly impressive bonfire blazes in the center of the marketplace, smoke curling up so high that the man has to pull his bandana up over his face to keep from inhaling it. Still, one can tell from his eyes alone that he's beaming when he turns back over his shoulder to address the Magician again. "The boys went out'n tore up one of the train stations out thereaways," he points off towards Old Yesteryear. "Sick and tired of all the tourists come sniffin' around out here."
Won't stop them entirely, by any means, but at least the snootiest among them will be deterred by the complete lack of furnishings. Said furnishings are floating skywards as bits of ash as they speak.
"Want to go down and throw a bench in?"
he's known feemor for two days, but if something happened to him, qui-gon would - well, he's unsure, though he gets the sense he'd mourn feemor already.
he tries not to compare those he knows now with others he knew then, but difficulty arises when so much of rael he can find in the master. elusive at times, both figures shared the crooked smile, the roguish air, the tendency to let him get away with decisions dooku would've given him a firm punishment over ( the same obi-wan simply frowns upon ).
qui-gon has no proof of it yet, but if the similarities continue beyond that, he'll have to heavily rely on the living force to even try and make himself a sabacc player anywhere near feemor's skill.
" not a curfew, " the padawan puts carefully, " master kenobi makes .. suggestions. gives advice. reminds me i shouldn't stay out too late if i have classes early the next morning. "
without elaborating on whether or not this is the case, qui-gon begins walking towards the door quickly, as if taking any second longer would've made feemor change his mind. " i spent the whole day watching holos. i think i get it. i'd still like you to start. "
"Really? Good man." He finally learned, then. Feemor knew he'd take to being a Master eventually. The last apprentice just might've been a few years before Obi-Wan felt ready. And whose fault is that, he wonders. "Glad to hear you're using that to your advantage. You definitely don't have classes early tomorrow morning, right?"
Feemor doesn't wait for an answer, mostly because he knows full well he's not getting one. And Qui-Gon doesn't seem keen on wasting time, either; Feemor falls into step alongside him and guffaws with sheer and utter disbelief as he goes on.
"Watching holos? You mean you've never actually— you. You have never played sabacc." Force, where was Dooku keeping this kid? Under a rock? How'd he manage to get so normal ( well, normaler ) so fast in the years between his knighting and picking up Feemor as a padawan? "I'm shocked. No, seriously. How old are you, again?" He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. You'll take to it fast, I'm sure."
" he is a respectable man, " oddly kind for any sort of politician. " a respectable man who generously allowed one of his properties to be the hosting place of this formal celebration. "
he gives feemor a Look, a dead giveaway whenever he's playing up details for the sake of preemptively running through their excuse when they're brought in in the morning before the council. the small smile - a knowing one - that sprouts from his lips as feemor immediately understands the play cannot be concealed ( nor does he attempt to ).
" we share the same thoughts, padawan, " something about lessons of yes-and'ing in the temple's theatre program. " you're wise and capable in the force, but there is much which can be learned only with practice. "
stepping back to allow feemor to get ready, he smooths out the front of his poncho, as a small reminder for the padawan to get his. " in the quarter of an hour. what do you think, too early? as i understand, this .. celebration will occur until the early morning, so we need not hurry. "
then, through the force bond they share, he continues away from prying ears. " only in our return. the council will reunite hours early to discuss matters pertaining to felucia - we should be back by sunrise. "
"One of his very expensive properties, I imagine," Feemor ventures a guess, brows arching. "Perhaps with a pool? A bar?"
He's been to his fair share of fancy parties, of course, if only to stand around and look somewhat respectable. That's the only reason Jedi get invited to social gatherings on Coruscant, it seems... or at least the only reason anybody would let their Padawan tag along. But a personal invitation? That sounds more promising, at least concerning their odds of actually having some fun.
"The Masters in the crèche always told me so." From his earliest days as an Initiate he was taught that no amount of instruction could replace the lessons he would learn alongside his Master - well, Masters - in the field, and it has routinely proven true. He certainly never learned to do shots in the crèche. He tugs on his boots; he should probably fix up his hair, just in case any other senator's daughters are in attendance. "I'd like to make the most of our time, Master. I don't think it would be too early at all."
Especially if the Council may very well be sending them off to Felucia come the morning. He'd been once before, with his prior Master, and never did manage to get rid of all the mudstains on his old pair of boots. Thank the Force he outgrew them. Feemor's excitement is laced with only the briefest wrinkle of begrudging chagrin at the notion of returning early after a night such as this before he dismisses the feeling. That, he thinks, is a concern for future Feemor to contend with. Present Feemor is throwing on his poncho and pocketing his communicator.
"I understand." Though he does not voice it verbally, even as a cohesive thought, he does put forward the slightest bit of trepidation that the Council will absolutely know what they were up to - but the concern is far outweighed by the opportunity before him, and Feemor is nothing if not confident in his acting abilities. "And if they ask where we were..?"
pulling an its a wonderful life to nick and he still wants to kill himself. uhhhhhh got any tips joseph
look man all i'm saying is that nothing you've shown me has given me any indication that life gets better from here. this shit already happened. if you tell me my car gets un-totaled and i inherit a mansion tomorrow or something well then you might have an argument
this man's force presence is as clouded with confusion as it is with doubt, both which make the chances of convincing him of an immediate threat lower right before qui-gon's very own eyes. for a moment, he imagines another universe where he's crouched before the gardens of the jedi temple instead of out here, taking care of the plants and flowers which serve both as decor and morale boosters for the jedi rather than on this stranger's doorstep.
" the cloaking device completely conceals a ship's presence when activated. i doubt it would have been noticeable to you and most other species in the galaxy. " he can't, now, either. there's a clear disturbance in the force surrounding his apartment, though whether that's due to an anomaly or something else more easily explainable, he's sure he won't have the chance to explore. " and animals can find common ground, my friend, as we can. i fail to see how your dog's inaction confirms or denies the presence of the porgs. "
ah. the stranger thinks he's some sort of guard. looking to obi-wan through the window, he pauses before his hand waves in the air in a circular motion. " you don't want to see my badge. you want to let me inside. "
"Right, of course. My mistake." He's sure that the guy really is somewhere else in the galaxy entirely, though he's coherent as hell for somebody clearly high out of his gourd, he'll hand him that. "But your fancy little radars tracked the invisible ship... here. To a shitty apartment building. And you think this guy's porks, or whatever, got into my shitty apartment, specifically. I just want to make sure I'm following this."
If he didn't want him out of his house so badly, Nick would almost be tempted to see where this is going. But his stubbornness about it isn't exactly endearing.
"I'm pretty sure I know my dog better than you do," though really the only thing she consistently barks at is Nick. He cannot, in fact, verify that the dog's silence is proof against the missing animals having wandered in, no matter how much he wants to for the sake of her pride. "I'm not—"
The hand that intends to cut him off does just that. Nick stops in his tracks, loses his train of thought, and gives the guy a look that says what the fuck are you doing in just about a million languages.
"I'm not fucking doing that. What the hell is this?" The gesture is repeated back at him, mockingly. "Want to try that one again?"
You wear that " I love my wife " badge with an incredible amount of honour huh
Oh, I wear all my badges with an incredible amount of honor. I've got seventeen and counting, ma'am.
You're always talkin' about your wife Jim.
Yes, well maybe if you Had a wife you'd understand.
everyone BE QUIET i HAVE to talk about my wife
( praying to akatosh ) please, take me back. i'm ready
@bleedingforce sent / « this is ALL instinct, i’m scared! » padaqui to cody.....
Yeah, Cody could tell.
The rain of blasterfire upon them ceases when the last droid falls in a smoking heap to the ground, and even as Cody signals his men to sweep the area, an abrupt heel-turn brings him face-to-face with his biggest headache of the day. He's not sure the occasionally lucky shot from Qui-Gon is worth his otherwise complete lack of experience in battle. Either the kid's not participating at all or he's running off and nearly getting himself killed or he's acting like the blaster in his hands is some horrifying contraption beyond his comprehension.
Cody watched no less than two dozen shots fly off in random directions just then. Beyond his comprehension may in fact be an understatement.
"Are you nuts?" He knows it's different for the Jedi - knows their instincts are nothing at all like Cody's instincts - but that looked more like a failure of fundamental gun safety than instinct. "You could've blown someone's leg off. Didn't General Kenobi ever teach you basic trigger control?"
