Hey Now, You’re An All Star

Oh? *perks in interest* Quinlan/Hevy? Is this a Dominos lives fic? Whose the time traveler? I already have so many questions lol

“Of all the places,” Fives complains. “It couldn’t have been Geonosis or one of the fronts or even Coruscant. Of course we’re getting stuffed out of the way on some moon somewhere.”

Hevy rolls his eyes, checking his pack one more time and then closing the pouches. There's something caught between anxiety and anticipation curled in his stomach, and a heavy thread of resignation as well, because he’s not any happier to be heading for the Rishi moon base than Fives is, but—

But at least they graduated. At least they're moving on, and not stuck on sanitation for the rest of the war, or decommissioned. At least they're doing something.

“What, did you think we were going to get assigned to General Windu or something?” Droidbait asks, bemused, and drops from his bunk. “We’re not ARCs.”

“Not yet,” Echo says, daring him to contradict that. When Droidbait just raises his hands in silent surrender, Echo snorts, and says, “Experience is a good idea before we go for the ARC program. The regulations about teams applying—”

Cutup groans and throws a sock at him. “We all want to be ARCs, and we all know the regulations. Shut your mouth already.”

Given the way Echo is eyeing the distance between Cutup’s bunk and the floor, the odds that he’s about to throw himself across the space and wrestle Cutup down are good, so Hevy pitches his voice to carry and says, “An hour at most ‘til we need to assemble, so can it and move faster.”

Cutup huffs, and Echo glares, but before either of them can say anything there's a quiet chuckle. Hevy jerks, wrenching around to find a familiar figure in the doorway, tall and slim and graceful.

“General Ti!” he says, startled, and Droidbait almost falls out of his bunk as the rest of Domino scrambles to come to attention.

General Ti smiles at them, folding her hands in front of her. “Domino Squad,” she says kindly. “Congratulations again on passing your tests. It was most impressive.”

Hevy won't admit to the seed of something that goes hot and liquid in his chest, hearing one of the High Generals say that. “Thank you, sir,” he says. “Is something wrong, sir?” Because she can't have come all this way to congratulate them, even if she’s kind; there are hundreds of thousands of clones she oversees, not even accounting for her duties as a Jedi.

For a moment, General Ti weighs that. “Not wrong,” she allows. “But I have a request to make of the five of you.”

Hevy blinks, glancing over at Cutup, but he looks equally surprised. Echo is frowning a little, and Droidbait is opening his mouth, but Fives beats him to the question.

“A request?” he asks, stepping forward. “For us?”

That edge of incredulity should be insulting, but…it’s really just accurate. Even if Domino passed their tests, they're still rookies. Rancor Battalion is stationed on Kamino, and Colt is never far from General Ti’s side; if she wants something, she can just ask him. Hevy's proud of them, and what they managed, but they're not exactly Kamino’s best. Not by a long shot.

Ti just smiles, though. “Yes,” she confirms, like it’s ridiculous to think that she wouldn’t ask five rookies for a favor. Stepping into the room, she glances around, then says, “I am sorry to leave it to such short notice, but a Jedi I am well-acquainted with requested I assign him a squad of troopers ready to ship out immediately, and I believe Domino would be a good fit.”

Droidbait blinks and closes his mouth.

“A Jedi?” Hevy asks, not quite able to believe it. There are so many clones, and so few Jedi; the odds of serving directly under a general before they’ve even made ARC trooper is almost ridiculous, and yet General Ti looks perfectly serious.

“A Jedi,” Ti confirms, and pauses, expression shifting to something that’s touched with concern for a moment before it clears. “He is a friend, and an…unconventional Jedi, but given Domino’s ability to overcome obstacles, I had thought to introduce you.” Her smile flickers into something warm as she looks them over, and she says, “It is not an order, of course. Should you wish to continue on to your assignment without change, that is perfectly understandable. But I believe you would be well suited.”

Hevy can't quite find anything to say. It seems too good to be true, like everything he’s ever fantasized about when he’s thought about ridiculous scenarios and winning medals right out of training and all the other stupid bantha shit trainees are supposed to dream about, but—

Actually achieving it is something else entirely.

Ya tenéis para entreteneros, a mi se me da bien, o sale por la ventana, según días.

please reblog for the sample size as I am deciding what my priority should be. thank u

Remember folks! With Halloween coming up, food dyed black with charcoal can neutralise your medication rendering them inactive and useless! This includes contraceptive pills if you take them within 2 hours (before or after) consuming the charcoal!

I find a lot of arguably mean things funny, but there’s a special place in my heart for hardcore hipsters who insist they love tea despite having no idea how to brew it and just choking down that hot bitter disaster while insisting it’s God’s gift to man

Ok, but in Hawks verse, Mail spikes his hair, so it looks like little horns all over his head. Horns that match placement of his zabrak horns. 😈

“You know this is the less flammable one, right?” Jesse asks, even as he scans the can of hair spray.

The boy in front of his register, just about his age but wearing about twice as many chains on his person as Jesse privately thinks is necessary, gives him a scathing look and slaps a bill down on the counter.

“It’s for hair,” he says, like Jesse is an idiot for even assuming there might be another reason he’s buying it. It’s his voice that catches Jesse's attention, though, soft and dark, and Jesse very determinedly doesn’t have a reaction as he bags the water bottle, sandwich, hairspray, and candy bar and takes the money.

“Well, yeah,” Jesse says, and checks the total. Frowns, and then checks it again. “But that’s not why most people buy it.”

Golden eyes narrow, and the boy looks from Jesse to the bag on the counter. “Is there a problem?” he asks pointedly.

“You're five bucks short,” Jesse says, and pretends very hard that he doesn’t see the boy’s expression twist with something between rage and shame, how he doesn’t even try to reach for the wallet that Jesse saw was otherwise empty. But—

He was going to get one of Charger’s sandwiches for lunch, and he already paid Rex for it, so if he just…skips, that’ll cover it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse says, and very deliberately tucks the receipt into the pocket of his apron. “I've got it covered.”

Instantly, the boy bristles. “I don’t want your charity,” he says dangerously, leaning across the counter like he’s going to grab Jesse and deck him.

Jesse just scoffs, because this guy is tall and whipcord lean and muscular, but he’s got nothing on Kix when he’s coming out of an exam binge. “Great,” he says. “Good for you. Just take the damn bag and get out of my line, I'm on the clock.”

The boy glances behind himself automatically, taking in the tall, hooded figure who’s waiting back by the stand of trail mix. With a hiss of aggravation, he grabs the bag, turns on his heel, and stalks out of the general store.

“You're welcome!” Jesse calls after him, but the only response he gets is an aggressive jangle of the bells over the door as it slams shut.

Quietly, Rex's big boyfriend approaches the counter, setting his pile of granola bars down on it beside a bottle of water. “Are you all right?” he asks, and a flicker of pale eyes between Jesse and the door makes Jesse smile.

“I'm fine,” he tells Jon, and then, “Rex said he told you to at least get a sandwich if you're going hiking.”

“I'm fine—” Jon starts.

“There had better not only be granola bars on that counter!” Rex calls from the stockroom, and Jesse hides his grin as Jon winces.

“One sandwich?” he asks, smirking.

Jon pauses, flicking a glance at the still-swaying bells above the door and then at him. “Make it two,” he says softly. “Which is your favorite?”

Jesse swallows, and—having a vague crush on his brother’s boyfriend is the most predictable, ridiculous teenage thing in a lifetime that hasn’t been anything like ordinary, but Jesse doesn’t know that he would have skipped it. It’s nice. Just—as long as no one else ever finds out. Including Rex. Particularly Rex.

“Turkey,” he says, and Jon gives him a small smile and inclines his head.

“Two turkey, then,” he agrees, and Jesse rings him up, the boy and his voice and his golden eyes almost completely out of mind.

  Jesse is halfway through a mind-numbing shift that makes his grandfather’s assigned essay on ancient Mandalorian clan migrations look fascinating in comparison—which is the only reason he’s halfway through it when Jaster doesn’t want it until next Monday—when the bell over the door chimes. He’s in the middle of wrestling with a sentence, but no one immediately calls for his help, so he keeps writing, listening for the footsteps that will undoubtedly retreat into the shelves.

But they don’t. instead, there's a long pause, and then they approach the counter.

“You,” a very familiar voice says, low, dark, and something prickles down Jesse's spine as he jerks his head up to see the boy from the other day standing on the other side of the counter. Golden eyes lock with his, then narrow, and the boy says almost accusingly, “You are the one from the other day.”

“It’s not like anyone else works weekday afternoons in here,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes. Looks him over, and then says, “Hey, I guess you really did use it for your hair.”

“Of course I did,” the boy says sharply, and puts a hand up to touch the spikes his hair has carefully been styled into. They're kind of cute. Jesse doesn’t really have a type, but—thig guy isn't not his type. Even if he is wearing a lot of black.

Jesse just shrugs. “My brothers in the fire department are grateful. You’d be surprised how many people come out here to start fires.”

The boy pauses, weighing this, and then says abruptly, “I am Maul.” And then, like it physically pains him to get the words out, “Thank you.”

Whatever effect that gratitude might have is promptly ruined by the face he pulls.

Jesse stares at him for a moment, then bursts out laughing. He leans back in his chair, snickering, and says, “Now we both just feel awkward. Did someone put you up to saying that?”

Maul scowls at him. “Of course not,” he retorts, and drops a ten on top of Jesse's laptop. “For your troubles.”

“If it was trouble I wouldn’t have done it,” Jesse says, and pushes the bill back. “My family owns the store. It’s fine.”

Maul glares like he’s about to protest, and he very pointedly doesn’t retrieve the money. Before he can say anything, though, Jesse raises his hands in surrender. “Look, I'm on my lunch break in like ten minutes, if you want to pay me back, just buy me lunch or something.”

For a long moment, Maul stares at him with narrowed eyes. “And take you somewhere romantic to eat it, I suppose,” he scoffs.

Jesse gives him a smirk. “If you want to go that far I'm going to need more than a sandwich,” he retorts, and Maul looks away with a disgusted huff.

He does buy Jesse a sandwich, though. And he even throws in a bag of chips when Jesse offers to buy their sodas, so apparently he’s not quite as angry as he looks.

The spiked hair is still cute, but Jesse gets a feeling saying that won't be welcome, so he keeps his mouth shut.

[On AO3]

Actor David Suchet was taught how to eat a mango in ‘polite company’ by Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. On May 2 1990 Suchet was at a private lunch at Buckingham Palace, per the Queen’s invitation. It was his 44th Birthday. He discovered the Queen likes to invite people from all walks of life whom she finds interesting.

During lunch, Suchet was served a mango and suffering from an acute attack of nerves, he turned to Prince Philip, confessing he didn’t have the slightest idea how to deal with the fruit. That provoked an enourmous laugh from Prince Philip, who replied immediately, ‘Well, let me show you,’ and demonstrated what exactly one should do. Suchet was relieved he wasn’t left floundering and was now able to eat the fruit in front of him.

Later that day he told the story to Brian Eastman, the producer of Agatha Christie’s Poirot, and asked him if they could include it in the episode they were soon to film, 3x09: The Theft of the Royal Ruby.

“We sent a copy of the finished film to Buckingham Palace on DVD, and I’m thrilled to say that it became the late Queen Mother’s favourite film. Indeed, whenever I’ve met the Duke of Edinburgh since that lunch, he always calls me ‘the mango man’.” - David Suchet, Poirot and Me

Surprise! I had my first try at animation! It's a bit jerky and choppy because I have no idea what I'm doing, and every frame was drawn individually.

Yknow the thing where red pandas just lay down on a branch and let their legs hang and they’re just like vibing

“My body, my choice” only makes sense when someone else’s life isn’t at stake.