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TF2 The Animated Series: Ep 3EXT. FURNITURE WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Concealing themselves between a dumpster and the wall, Scout and Soldier lie in wait. Aside from amateur camouflage paint for Soldier, neither of them have made much effort to dress inconspicuously.
Scout slumps against the wall, glowering at his shoes.
This is stupid.
No, it is strategy. I wouldn't expect you to know the difference.
What part of this is strategy?! We've been sitting in the garbage for five hours!
That is not true.
He pats the side of the dumpster, then relaxes against the wall.
We've been sitting next to the garbage for five hours.
It is called an ambush, Pinky. We wait here and then run in, guns blazing, to cover your entrance.
Scout bangs his head back against the wall, then winces and leans forward to rest his forehead in his hand.
I can't even count all the things that are wrong with this bogus plan.
Not Ready for a Real DateSerah's hair worked its way up my nose. Uninvited, and definitely unwelcome. I wrinkled my nose, fighting back a sneeze. What shampoo did she use? Something to do with fruit and a long price tag.
Immobilized as I was, the twitch was doubly maddening. I tightened my fingers in hers, feeling the rough fabric of our gloves hold a cloth-y conversation. Serah sighed contentedly and leaned on my shoulder. I took the opportunity to move my head.
Too much. The rhythm of her breathing, previously steadier than the thrum of the bus, spiked and fell. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I lied. I couldn't exactly tell her. Girls were skittish in the first place.
Panic shot up my arm as her hand moved, loosening her fingers from the weave with mine. I held on, too tightly, and she laughed at me. But she didn't let go.
My nose wept in silent gratitude as she sat up, l
TF2 The Animated Series: Ep 2EXT. BLU BASE FIELD - DAY
A shoddy track has been laid out in the dirt. Scout runs, passing childish obstacles with ease. He now has a backpack for keeping the bat in, and manages to move just as easily with it as he might without.
When he passes the finish mark, Soldier holds up a stopwatch.
You kiddin'? That's gotta be a world record!
Soldier folds his arms and imitates a wall, looking away. Freeze-frame, monochrome. SOLDIER caption and halfborder swing in. Hold for a beat, and then swing caption and halfborder back out, restore colour, and resume motion.
There is no such thing as a record for running fast.
Is so. I'm proof.
He hits his own chest, grinning like a demon. Freeze-frame, monochrome, swing in SCOUT caption and halfborder. Hold for a beat, and then swing caption and halfborder back out, restore colour, and resume motion.
Livin' legend, right he
Jiggery PokeryThey had called him mad, but he had done it. And perhaps it was just a teensy bit mad, who could really say for certain? There were too many variables to calculate it to within a polite decimal place. Assuming that anyone had thought to decimalise madness, of course, in which case, it would only be polite if someone had bothered in the first place.
The second place was what the Medic was interested in at that moment, and that place was standing on the cracked tiles of his laboratory floor, giddy as a treefrog.
It was an ingenious plan, and he was halfway through its beautiful execution. It hadn't taken much in the way of chemical components. Half a pint of blood extracted from a frozen theropod, acquired through eBay after a late night and four bottles of hard liquor.
He scratched his chin, wondering if the liquor ought to be counted as chemical components.
Half, always half. Halfway there, half a pint of Tyrannosaurus r
Red Letter Day - Prologue
So here I am, writing.
I’m writing, I’m writing – just as you told me to.
I’m writing, I’m writing, I’m writing.
Have you ever noticed that when the sun goes down, this flat changes? It does. The walls are white during the day and lingering brown at night. During the day, I’m with you and the light from outside paints the walls that heavenly color. But when that sun goes down, the demons wake and I’m alone again, even though you’re just a room away.
Somehow it seems less threatening tonight, and I think it’s because you’ve given me an assignment to try and fight off the darkness. You gave me a stack of papers and a pen and told me to write everything that comes to mind.
It’s a strange feeling to have complete freedom. These empty pages are mine to do whatever I please – I could even wipe my ass with them – but they’re also terribly intimidating. The blank page has always been a nemesis of man. It&
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