@croccin-champagne
((hdfjhdf you said it was 'apparent' he wouldn't have parents any longer, which means he wouldn't be hearing dad jokes any more either))
((hdfjhdf you said it was 'apparent' he wouldn't have parents any longer, which means he wouldn't be hearing dad jokes any more either))
((Ahhhhhhh lol I thought it was a reference to my username since Jyn Erso won't be hearing any more dad jokes either bc her dad gets killed. And then she dies.))
(too soon)
(Have you picked up the Rogue One novelization? Closest I've ever come to crying well reading)
(um im sorry I cried enough in the theater.)
You just punched that man square in the jaw.
I know I should have had a little more restraint no need to lecture me about it.
No, I was going to say that you should have aimed for just under his jaw and hit at an angle. That way you would have knocked him straight out and you wouldn't have to listen to him whine and complain about his "poor face"
You're not mad about it?
Absolutely not, he deserved that and about six more.
“You must’ve done something really bad, then.”
“Yes…I must have..?”
“Yeah, given your 2 million bounty.”
“Ah. Yes. That.”
If you went back about two weeks and told Amor that she would be hiding from a demon in her bathroom with the ghost of Dee Dee Ramone, she’d either ask if you were high, or just shrug and say “Yeah, sounds like a situation I’d dig myself into”.
Hey, you couldn’t say she wasn’t self aware.
The tour guide's face went pale, "You shouldn't be here."
Daniella walked through the door, a small bell tinkling merrily as she entered.
“How are you?” she said politely to the young man at the counter, who had his nose in a book and a pair of rectangular glasses on his face.
“Copacetic,” he replied pleasantly. He looked up and caught sight of her face.
“Daniella Jacobs?” he asked. “Is that you?”
Man, that sentence is cluttered.
"Hey," her voice was soft. "How do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" he looked at her like she was crazy. "I feel like introducing that maniac's face to a brick wall. About 30 times."
"Yep he's fine," Kye chuckled.
(I'm so glad that I'm not the only person who uses the word 'copacetic')
"I saw it coming," he admits, running a hand through his sandy blond hair, "but fuck, does it hurt."
“Do you know what hurts me the most, Cheryl? That I’ll never be able to see my wife ever again.” He jabbed a finger into her stomach. “All because of you.”
“John. . .she saved my life.”
“YOU KILLED HER!”
(I actually learned it from Crowking and ever since then knew that it would be the first word Nathaniel would ever say.)
One second Anya was shooting, the next second she was on the ground, a bullet through her neck.
"You are not suppose to be up you know," Kye's voice sounded from next to him.
"If I stay in that room for much longer I will go insane," Tolkalee groaned know Kye would probably make him go back anyways.
However, Kye stood straight and walked down the hall stopping once to look back a Tolkalee. "Are you coming? Or would you rather I send you back to your room?"
He screamed as the gloves glowed red hot, the flesh of his hands burning and the melted skin dripping into the ground. The runes on the gloves glowed a blinding gold before disappearing as the gloves burned away.
Jenai laughed softly. “So much for your protection.”
"This is really playing out to be some sort of found footage video," she sniffed, following the rest of them.
We called him Velcro, we thought he had it all together, but we forgot one thing: Velcro comes apart too.
"The next time you decide to go galavanting through enemy territory while injured, please take me or someone with you for protection. At least," Tonakee scolded.
"We are in a time of war Sir," Tolkalee spoke up, sounding a little different from before. "Injury and death is inevitable. If we can not accept this then we will lose all our moral, and in turn the war as well."
So I wrote a short story thing today.
The others all turned to him, their eyes full of sympathy. Sympathy and crushing loss. He felt dizzy and fell to his knees. The others murmured something that sounded like understanding. But he felt none of it. He sat on the hard, dirty ground, and began to weep.
The empty street quickly started getting full. People started circling John and the bleeding detective. They muttered between themselves, wondering what had happened. Was it a murder or was it a suicide? John rose his head and looked at the crowd.
“SOMEONE ALERT THE BLOODY HOSPITAL!”
She turned towards the darkened cell once more.
“No,” she murmured, “We have something that they do not.”
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