sometimes i sit here and get emotional thinking about
whiskey when talking to most of the smh:
vs whiskey when talking to tango:
the only other time he smiled was a few pages before, right after jack signed the jersey. both are cut off by the panels so we dont really get to see the WHOLE SMILE :((((
i firmly believe his Cool Aloof Dude Persona has two weaknesses: famous hockey players and tony
Whiskey: This is so frustrating! I hate everything! I hate everyone!
Tango: [voice cracks] Everyone?
Whiskey: …
Whiskey: [sighs] Everyone, but you.
i feel like whiskey is the kind of person who like, finds a kitten on the side of the road or something as he’s going to class and just picks it up, takes it with him. and so he sits down in the classroom next to his best friend & sets all of his books down and he just goes “hey, hey tango. tango look.” and then he just opens up his hoodie pocket up a little bit and a lil baby kitten head pops out
and then like tango shouts for a split second and then he just gets the happiest face like “oh my go d???? what???? where did you find it???? is it a boy or a girl???? have you named her???? what’s her name???? can we keep her????”
Manager at Annie’s: okay we’re closing in twenty minutes! Tango: thank you twenty!
OKAY BUT WHISKEY TOO
AND THIS IS WHAT THE THREE OF THEM SUPER BOND OVER
AND WHY SHE GETS A NICKNAME THAT MATCHES THEIRS
Like I already had elaborate headcanons forming about Whiskey coming out to her before the rest of the team because he doesn’t want them to know he dated a lax bro…
i may despise galen erso from the bottom of my shriveled maggoty heart but i have to tell you guys how he managed to sneak in the death star weak spot according to the rogue one novelization because it’s hilarious. if you’re expecting some feat of engineering genius so subtle no one noticed it, you are wrong. galen got krennic to sign off on it himself.
he annoyed the fuck out of krennic by cc-ing him in like a million emails to death star r&d.
so i know we’re behind schedule here but we found this structural flaw and wanted to let you guys know about it, says galen.
and r&d is like okay so how do we fix it?
and galen is like well we could start over?
and r&d is like no that’ll take too long.
and galen promises to think about it and writes to them later all hey how about we make some additional investments and get better materials?
and r&d is like no that’s too expensive.
and galen is like weeeell….
and r&d is like well what?
and galen goes well there’s something we can do but you’re not gonna like it.
and r&d is like okay what is it.
and galen is like are you sure you want to hear it?
yes, goes r&d.
like, really really super sure?
yes, goes r&d.
okay so the problem is radiation buildup, says galen. have i mentioned the problem is radiation buildup?
30 emails ago, r&d says.
right, so. says galen. we could build this exhaust port but it’s not going to get rid of all the radiation all the time, so if you’re having some stormtroopers around they might be exposed to it. i can look into some other options to reduce–
at which point krennic, who’s been cc’d in all of this, goes JUST PUT THE FUCKING EXHAUST PORT IN AND GET IT OVER WITH FUCK THOSE STORMTROOPERS ALL THESE EMAIL NOTIFICATIONS ARE DRIVING ME NUTS
and galen is like okay 🙂
This, THIS is EXACTLY why I felt the need to tweet Alexander Freed and let him know why the novelisation was so important to me, because this is a man who understands the absolute mind-numbing tedium of project management by committee.
Star Wars is and always has been about human nature, and sure, we chuck in some lasers and spaceships for funsies, but it’s about politics and human behaviour, and if you can make one of the the biggest plot holes in sci-fi history turn into a completely logical and rational event just because you understand that big decisions get made precisely because “I AM TOO TIRED TO BOTHER WITH THIS ANY MORE” then you are an absolute immortal genius, to my mind.
idk why you despise galen erso, going deep cover for 20 years to make sure the superweapon has a ‘splode here’ button is pretty boss
write a story about how you became the world’s most powerfull person… by accident.
You learn about the butterfly effect in school. The concept is interesting, but not so interesting that you don’t fall asleep partway through the movie. You hear something distantly about a butterfly beating its wings and hurricanes. You think it will never apply to you.
You know now (not then) that power comes through and from favors.
If you had known that then you would probably not have done so many.
(This is where it starts.)
One.
There is a strange creature crossing the road behind the lecture hall. You stop on your bike and frown at it. It looks a little like a turtle, but it’s limbs are longer than any turtle you’ve ever seen. It’s stretched out on the hot asphalt, long, pale limbs clawing forward towards the small stream that runs on the other side.
You hop off your bike and gently pick the creature up, hands under the belly of the shell like you learned from the internet.
Imagine your surprise when the shell slides off the creature instead, dropping a tiny woman onto the asphalt.
“Water,” she croaks, tiny eyes screwed shut. Her eyelids are the size of yours which means they’re huge on her. “Please.”
(You will not know until later what exactly please means to the fae.)
You feel yourself move through your shock. You pick her up and take her to the water’s edge. She slips under the surface, pale skin flashing like the scales of a fish, and she’s gone.
You’d wonder if your roommate slipped you something this morning if she wasn’t back a moment later, pushing a small rock into your hands.
“A boon,” she says. Her eyes are large and black, suited for her underwater world. “For a favor.” She smiles, showing teeth jagged and sharp like a piranha.
When you blink, she’s gone.
You stare at the rock in your left hand. It’s smooth and worn from years in water, an interesting swirl of granite and quartz. “I wish I knew,” you tell it.
The rock ices over so fast that you don’t have time to drop it. The frost swirls across your skin, burning you where it touches, and you watch in horror as your skin turns a mottled black and blue.
You fall to your knees from the pain and choke on a scream as the stone sinks into you, touching your bones and sending more ice through your marrow. It climbs up your arm and touches your eye, changing you vision so now that you’re see double, a strange, blue world juxtaposed next to the one you know and love.
Entirely because of this post by @samwell-womens-hockey. Tango asks how long Bittle and Jack have been together.
He’s not trying to snoop, it’s just there. When he asked for a closer look at the Jack Zimmermann OYO figurine Bitty told him to feel free and turned back to folding his laundry, so now Tango is holding the figure up but he got distracted by the calendar. It’s right behind the mini Jack, so it’s not like he was looking for it, but all those hearts are pretty eye catching.
“Is this your boyfriend’s birthday?” He asks, pointing at the little cake drawing. It’s pretty cute, actually.
“My what now?” Bitty says, almost casual except that he’s stiffened up, fingers clutching into the sweater in his hands, and Tango really stepped in it this time. He’s always asking stupid questions and it’s not the first time he’s said the wrong thing and someone needs to put a sock in his mouth.
“Oh, uh, I-” he stutters “didn’t mean to assume that you’re… I just thought that-”
“Hush, Tango,” Bitty says, taking pity on him. He doesn’t look angry or upset, but his smile is definitely forced. “You didn’t assume wrong, ok? Now go downstairs and get those sheets from the dryer.”
So he goes, because now that he knows about dibs he’ll do anything if it means he doesn’t have to live in those smelly dorms next year, but as he’s struggling to fold the fitted sheet he wonders why Bitty avoided the question.
Yep. The obvious reading and not one which was touched upon at all in the class I took on it at [university with serious business classics department]
I think this is a product of the same kind of selective cultural amnesia which the article about Captain Kirk I reblogged yesterday dissects. Like – we inherit our way of reading these works from the Enlightenment, whose leading lights dragged the greek classics out and put them on the pedestal where they currently reside, and they had a certain vested interest in the philosopher king idea, so a Grand Missing of the Point ensued and remains with us to this day
just moving along like everyone else 