If You Are Living Right Now In 2023 And Are Still A Big Fan Of LOTR Please Reblog Bro Where Are My Fellow

“You were sloppy as Jim Milton. Now look where it got you. You led Ross to you after you killed Micah.” “You would of done the same damn thing, Arthur.” … “You know you ain’t making it outta this, John?” “I know. I guess I was a fool for trusting them to hold their end of the bargain… I failed in the end.” “You still made it out, John. Dutch. Bill. Javier. None of them can hurt anyone no more. And Jack has a real shot at a future, now.” … “Arthur… do you think I did good?” “Of course, John. All we can do now is hope Abigail keeps Jack from going down the same path, now.” “You’re right…” “It’s time, John. They’ve gotten far enough.” John takes a deep breath, and blinks. With that, Arthur is gone. He takes one last peek between the barn door, seeing the dozen+ armed soldiers, rifles pointed at the door. He steadies himself, at peace in a way. Thinking to himself all the things he hopes Jack will accomplish in life. How he never truly made it up to them. How uncle died for this. How if he really redeemed himself. And with that, he opens the doors, ready to face the music.

Somewhere in Wild Space, Anakin is at an art museum

Cal wakes up from a nap. Oops, fell asleep on the couch again. He's so dozy, so comfy, maybe he'll drift off again and...

Wait.

Something feels different about his head. He stirs, brushing the blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep." It's Merrin. She must be sitting next to his head. "I am not finished yet."

Her fingers are in his hair, brushing through and separating small handfuls into trios. The feeling is familiar, a distant memory from so long ago. He feels himself relaxing. "Why're you braiding my hair?" he asks, although it sounds more like "whyybraidnmuhheyh?"

Somehow, Merrin interprets his mushy words. "It is shiny. And pretty."

"S'not."

"Oh, yes, it is." There's a gentle tug as she deftly braids. "Fiery. Like my magicks."

"S'green."

"Hush, Cal. Let me finish."

Cal zones out, drifting into memories of Master Tapal patiently plaiting his braid, tying it off with the finest of thread. It never seemed possible for someone with such huge hands, and yet Master Tapal managed it every time. Sometimes he would tug on it to get Cal's attention. Other times, if he couldn't grab the hood of Cal's robes fast enough, he'd grab Cal's braid instead, and that never failed to bring Cal to a sudden and complete halt - usually before he wandered into traffic in the Brave's landing bay. He smiles at the memories, at the warmth, the tradition, the simplicity.

Merrin probably isn't going in for simplicity. Maybe he'll look like Cere did in that echo he picked up from Trilla's lightsaber. She looked so awesome with her hair like that. Could he grow his hair out that long? His pictures it - autumn reds, oranges and golds trailing all the way down his back, tied in intricate braids...

...who is he kidding? He'd sling it back in a ponytail and be done with it.

He giggles to himself.

"You are strange, Cal," Merrin tells him.

She has no idea.

A few minutes later, Merrin's fingers pull away. "Done. You may wake up. BD? You can come and look now."

Familiar feet tippy-tappy their way over. BD gives a long, slow beep of awe, and then the light of his scanner shines through Cal's eyelids.

Pretty, BD declares.

"I am not pretty," Cal grumbles.

"You are. You are a pretty princess," Merrin says. "BD, quick, make a recording."

"Excuse you, I'm no princess, I am a queen," Cal corrects.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty," Merrin says.

Curiosity wins and he opens his eyes, sits, frees his hands from the blanket, and explores his head. What he finds is a series of small, tight braids encircling his head - much like a crown. He leans forward and catches a glimpse of his reflection on the table. "Huh."

"You like it?" Merrin asks. "Cere explained to me how to do it, but it is easier to practice on somebody else."

"I do like it," Cal says. "It's really practical. Keeps it out of my eyes, too."

The hatch opens. Cere and Greez board the ship, both carrying several grocery bags. Cere clocks Cal first, nodding in approval. Greez does a double-take, puts down his bags, and moves in for a closer inspection.

"Well?" Cal asks, moving his head to really show it off.

"I love it!" Greez gushes. "I mean I really love it. I want it. I want that style right now."

"When you have more hair, I will teach you how," Merrin says.

He grins. "It's a deal. You heard it here, folks, Greezy is officially growing his hair out."

let's face it, Obi-Wan is only a stickler for the rules in comparison to Anakin. this guy thought lightsaber nunchucks were cool as a teenager and jumping out of politicians windows was cool as an adult. he regularly sasses the chancellor of the republic. he saw Anakin and Padmé being super obvious and decided it was none of his business. he sits pussy facing the world in important meetings. hes's a lonely single in your area. he won one (1) fight against a sith lord and decided they were his speciality despite getting his ass handed to him by Dooku multiple times. he's annoying on purpose as a battle strategy. every man he meets desires him carnally and he doesn't notice. he puts one foot on Han Solos ship and is like "damn bitch you live like this" despite having spent 20 years in a desert hole. he gets himself killed to one-up Vader one last time. he's winning the idgaf war

We're on a new platform with a totally different audience...we have to prove ourselves all over again...convince a totally new group of people to think we're funny and worth your attention....so allow me to drop some of my "A" material....the funniest thing I got.......here goes....... jeef berky

NEED!

Twitter OP is the one making them, by the way.

"I know chatgpt is bad but you just don't really have any choice" you literally do. Don't use it. Have some moral backbone.

When a physicist falls in love :)

Richard Feynman's love letter to his deceased wife, 1946.