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I was reading the Attack of the Clone's script for *research* purposes, and it's been a while since I've seen the full movie but:

OBI-WAN: You look tired. ANAKIN: I don't sleep well, anymore. OBI-WAN: Because of your mother? ANAKIN: I don't know why I keep dreaming About her now. I haven't seen her since I was little. OBI-WAN: Dreams pass in time. ANAKIN: I'd rather dream of Padmé. Just Being around her again is... intoxicating. OBI-WAN: Mind your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you. You've made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken... and don't forget she's a politician. They're not to be trusted.

Literally I will never be able to take the "Obi-Wan is so mean he didn't let Anakin go find his mother" argument seriously ever again. On a purely factual level, there's not a single indication Anakin told Obi-Wan his dreams showed him his mother was in danger or that he thought they were dreams from the Force. Anakin says himself that he doesn't know why he's dreaming of her, which makes Obiwan's "Dreams pass in time," so incredibly reasonable.

Wait wait wait let me update the language to the *pretentious voice* modern parlance. It'll be like a Shakespere "translation." Here we go:

Obi-Wan: you look tired Anakin: I haven't been sleeping well Obi-Wan: Cuz of your dreams? Anakin: Yeah I've been randomly having dreams about my mom all of a sudden. Obi-Wan: They'll probably go away if you wait a bit. Brains are weird like that sometimes. …

The only evidence Obi-Wan might have to the danger point is that the dreams are disrupting Anakin's sleep. But Obiwan is the one to bring up the dreams, in context of them disrupting Anakin's sleep. If Anakin was looking for an opening, that was it.

But way more importantly to me currently is the fact that Anakin transitions out of talking about his mother by going "I'd rather dream of Padmé. Just Being around her again is... intoxicating."

Wtf anakin??? Who says that??? Let alone to their brother-dad???

He seriously goes from talking about his dreams of his mother to how his crush that he's known for a couple days total at this point is really hot, and people expect me to believe that Obi-Wan was supposed to divine from this conversation that they needed to immediately run halfway across the galaxy to prevent imminent disaster?????

Let me continue my translation:

… Anakin: I'd rather dream about having sex with Padmé. She's so hot and pretty and nice Obi-Wan: Anakin remember how the beliefs you've been committed to for the past ten years are maybe important to you? Also politicians are generally corrupt, we eat the rich in this household.

This is a fanfic type miscommunication plot at best, except for some reason people act like Anakin isn't being about as clear as mud.

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#it's gonna be may #funny tag

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#deep fryer #i can cook rice on the stove

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"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

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Positano, Italy (by Eda Barac)

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JOSEPH QUINN as EDDIE MUNSON in Stranger Things 3.07: The Massacre at Hawkins Lab

#eddie munson #stranger things

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#tweets

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oh yes it's that time of year

#it's gonna be may #funny tag

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(◡‿◡✿)

(ʘ‿ʘ✿) “what you say ‘bout me”

(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ “hold my flower”

#iconic #it’s back

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My face is having uncontrollable spasms. Great. It hurts really, really, really bad.

I think part of why I have trouble explaining pain to the doctor is when they ask about the pain scale I always think “Well, if someone threw me down a flight of stairs right now or punched me a few times, it would definitely hurt a lot more” so I end up saying a low number. I was reading an article that said that “10” is the most commonly reported number and that is baffling to me. When I woke up from surgery with an 8" incision in my body and I could hardly even speak, I was in the most horrific pain of my life but I said “6” because I thought “Well, if you hit me in the stomach, it would be worse.”

#learning tag

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No joke you guys NEED to get more comfortable blocking people. No more insulting people in public over different blorbo opinions no more making 2k long posts on how whatever ship you don't like shouldn't exist we've grown past that shit. Consistent posts about shit that make you uncomfortable? Block. Rancid blorbo opinions? Block. Is mildly annoying in your replies? Block. Pisses you off for reasons so petty you could never admit it publicly? Block. YOUR mental health will improve from not being upset 24/7, THEIR mental health will not be at risk of you lashing out because you happened to catch their posts on a bad day, and EVERYONE ELSE will benefit from not seeing the most embarrassing arguments known to man on their dash. "Oooh but they didn't deserve it-" dude you're presumably running a personal blog as a hobby not a public service. Who fucking cares.

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this video now

#video

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reblog to make prev stop having headaches

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oooh what about a lil blurb about bombshell r and spencer where it's the first time in their relationship that one of them is super sick and the other has to take care of them?? if you're feeling up for it ofc!! love u jade <333

ty for requesting<3<3 fem, 1k

“I’m sicker than a sick dog. I’m half cough.” 

Spencer frowns at his phone where it lays on speaker at the breakfast table. “You are? What kind of cough?” 

“It’s awful, I can’t tell you. You’ll stop loving me.” 

Spencer smiles even though he wants to grimace. He told you he loved you a few days ago, and you hadn’t said it back, but you certainly hadn’t stopped liking him. You’re more obsessed with him than before, he’d argue. It’s a great feeling, almost as good as an I love you in return would’ve been. 

(He doesn’t blame you for not saying it. You’ve been officially dating for less than a month. He shouldn’t have said it, only he’d been lying in your bed about to go to sleep with your hand in his and he’d never felt anything like it, not home but safe, not home but comfortable, and so so wanted.) 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer says.

“I’m gonna order some soup I think. What are you gonna do today?” Your voice is thick like you can’t breathe through your nose, but still yours.

“I’m gonna put my shoes on and come see you, I guess.” 

“Yeah?”

It’s a no brainier. “What soup do you want, Y/N?” 

He says your name like a compliment. You laugh down the line, which turns into a cough, and a pained moan. “Any kind of soup, babe. You’re really gonna come and see me?” 

“Someone has to take care of you. Ideally me.” 

“Too right.” 

When Spencer gets to your apartment thirty rushed minutes later, you’re already worse. He knocks on your door and you answer with a hand covering your face, your breath audibly shallow. “I forgot that being sick makes you ugly.” 

Spencer takes your wrist in his hand kindly. “Nothing can make you ugly. Come on, let me see.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I!” 

You aren’t pretty, you’re stunning. You’re gorgeous. You’ve been the most beautiful woman Spencer’s ever seen since the moment he saw you, not just because of your looks, of which you take great care, but because of your heart, how kind you’d been to him and continue to be. Your confident personality has never once made you cruel. He couldn’t say the same for most people, so you could have snot running down your lips and a zit the size of Quantico on your forehead and he’d still think you were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. 

“Come on,” he says again, “I know you’re still beautiful.” 

You let him pull your hand down, unveiling your puffy eyes and chapped nose. “I don’t know how I got sick so fast.” 

The tote bag he’d brought with him slips into his elbow and pulls down his sweater sleeve as he grabs your shoulder. “You said you looked ugly.” 

“I do!” 

“All you do is lie.” He gives you a small smile. Am I doing this flirting thing right? 

“I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Your audible heartbreak is convincing. “I’ll still kiss you.” His desperation is even more evident than yours. “I’d love to kiss you.” Even if it’s usually you who kisses him. 

You close your eyes and lean in for a kiss at the same time. Just one kiss, firm for a millisecond, no parting lips or tongue to be seen but just as good a kiss as any other. Spencer must’ve had about thirty of them now, yet a kiss from you never feels real. 

“I’ll look after you if you get sick,” you promise, pulling away. 

He was counting on it. He hates germs, hates being sick, but he loves you. Whatever happens is out of his hands. 

You seem a little unsteady on your feet, now Spencer’s looking at you. You’re wearing loose white pyjamas with blue flowers, and on your feet you have a pair of shoes somewhere between slippers and boots, brown fabric with fluffy white insides he’s seen you sporting on the jet from time to time when you’re at your most achingly tired. 

You look adorable and tipping. He eases out of his shoes, sliding the bag of tinned soup, crackers and about seventy dollars worth of cold medicine onto the sideboard so he can put his hand under your arm. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, wrapping you in a supportive hug. 

“Forward,” you tease. 

You shouldn’t. Spencer thinks about intimacy with you and goes insanely pink everytime, though you’re far from new to one another. He especially doesn’t wanna think about it as you cross your room and flop down into bed with a tired sigh. “Come lay down?” 

“I’m wearing jeans.” 

“Did you sit down on the subway?” 

“No, I drove here.” 

“Come on, Spence. Your germs are fine.” You smile at the ceiling as he sits down at the top of your bed. “You drove here? You hate driving.” 

“It was quickest.” 

You drop your head into his lap. Your breathing is laboured. 

“You okay?” he asks you. 

“Just missed you.” 

“I brought you some stuff. Vapour rub and decongestant spray, painkillers, vitamins, everything.” He leans down as he wraps his arms over your front, a promise to look after you. “Try to take a deep breath, angel,” he advises sympathetically. “You sound really out of breath.” 

“Too much standing up.” 

“Standing up can be good for you when you’re sick. It stops you from getting idle diseases and bed sores, and walking is even better for you if you can manage it, it helps unclog your sinuses.” He finishes his fact, and he looks down at you all poorly in his lap, remembering very quickly how lucky he is to have found someone who listens. You didn’t interrupt. You wouldn’t have even thought about it, he’s sure. “But no more standing up or walking around. I’m gonna get you anything you need. You’ll be better in no time.” 

You give him your own grateful smile. “Thank you.” You scrunch up your nose. 

“Are you gonna sneeze? I got balsam tissues.” The damage to your nose has already been done. “Do you have any chapstick? We’ll rub some on your nose to stop it from getting any drier.” 

Your wrinkled nose worsens. “Thank you for coming to look after me,” you say weakly. 

He wants to say you’re his best friend in the whole world, but you’re more than that now. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, ducking down to plant a kiss near your eyebrow. “I always want to look after you. This is just the first time you’ve let me.” 

You smile contentedly, your voice falling to a whisper. “Will you tell me you love me again?” 

Spencer doesn’t think he’s in any position to deny you. “I love you,” he says truthfully. “Thank you for letting me come over.” 

You turn your face into his arm. “Thank you for wanting to, handsome.” 

#spencer reid x reader #my first love #criminal minds