operation get some

Operation Get Some - Top Five Moments You Realized You Would Whenever Rudy Was On Screen

“It all feels so random, what we’re doing. Running here, shooting. Running there, bombing. That might be a legit target burning over there, but it might be a school, Pap. I hope it’s legit. I hope this is good karma.”

From Theron Shan’s Instagram Account:
good news guyz im off the couch! oh and my girl is back & not mad anymore. my amazon prime order hasn’t even come in yet! ya know its like they awlays say: you win some & you lose some* but really its all how you play the game

* lose = blow up half the base & turn a benevolent health care professional into a phantom of the opera wannabe evil overlord that im sure we’ll never see again

I do wonder if Zero Hour perhaps showed us a potential weakness for Thrawn (besides being blindsided by something he had absolutely no way of knowing about). When Thrawn has someone he considers a worthy opponent, like Kallus or Hera, he has to make sure they know he’s beaten them. HE’S beaten them.

Thrawn did not have to jam Kallus’ signal. In fact he needed the transmission to go through and cutting it off like that made the rebels more paranoid than if Kallus had gotten off a full warning about “don’t attack Lothal factories” instead of “Thrawn knows about-” and nothing else making them go into hyper-panic mode speculating and instantly react when Thrawn’s fleet is on the move.

So jamming the signal and then Kallus getting it out and then realizing Thrawn’s plan is done entirely for the benefit of messing with Kallus, of letting Kallus know Thrawn has thoroughly outsmarted him. In order to drive it home Kallus is left alive in order to watch the battle–a bad move even when Thrawn was there with him, but when left alone with Pryce? He escapes, which he could only do because Thrawn was more concerned with crushing him than beating him and being done with it.

And why does Thrawn leave Pryce in charge of the fleet? He wants to head the ground assault. A little confusing since you’d think they’d use Imperial Army divisions for that (Thrawn himself is Navy) but his conversation with Hera makes it clear what’s really going on. He wants Hera to know he’s beaten her, just like with Kallus, and again took a risk in doing so–leaving the fleet in command of a bureaucrat who while competent still starts to crack under pressure she’s not used to and Thrawn himself is left totally exposed on the surface. If the Bendu hadn’t shown up it’s entirely likely the Rebels would have rather fought given surrender would only keep command alive anyway (Thrawn made it clear he would kill everyone else) and while they had them surrounded that still put Thrawn in fairly close proximity to a Jedi Knight who could likely take out several of his men and him before going down (to say nothing of everyone else who’d fight before going down). While the Imperials would win the skirmish there was no way for Thrawn to know how it would go overall and his putting himself, the commander of the whole operation, at risk to get some smug face time with Hera, is a bad move.

And the thing is…I think that flaw can be entirely in character. Look at who Thrawn is–the only non-human in high command in the Empire. He’s only there not just because he is brilliant, but because he has proven that brilliance to others time and again. It’s entirely likely that Thrawn is so used to having to prove he’s better to such a higher degree than everyone else that he has to make sure an opponent knows they’ve been beaten and that it was him, Thrawn, who did it. And no one in the Empires going to correct that flaw because they’re so used to Thrawn being an utter genius and proving it that they don’t really realize it’s a flaw, just Thrawn proving he’s better as usual.

Given both Hera and Kallus escaped him this time, it’s likely to develop into more of a fixation and that may bring about Thrawn’s downfall. Possibly by eventually leading to over-fixation on either or both of them causing him to develop a blind spot at a crucial moment. On the other hand, that fixation will also make him more dangerous until he’s either beaten or reassigned elsewhere.

Between Beds

Winchester Brothers x Sister!Reader

Brother Drabble

Imagine getting stuck sharing a bed with one of your brothers while renting a hotel room for the night.

Warnings: Literally like on swear word (I think), Irritated reader, some light brotherly fluff or something like that.

Trigger Warning: DON’T READ IF YOU’RE TIRED becuase this is about not getting sleep and I wouldn’t want to make you suffer more and there really isn’t a trigger warning I just wanted to say this.

A/N: I’ve got a buttload of prompts I’m going to be using to write with so be prepared for a fic overload and daily posts.

Forever tag list: @Freaksforthewin , @thewinhunter, @cambriacaneatnoodles, @brokennoone , @youtubehelpsmesurvive , @chrisevansthedoritobastard , @winchesters-favorite-girl , @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @godh8salyssa @dean-baby-Winchester

Want to be added to one of my tag lists? Just ask!

My Edit

Every hunt. Every. Damn. Hunt. Your knuckle head brother would get a twin sized double room at a motel. In other words: somebody was sharing. Usually, the rooms came with a roll away bed, or had a couch that was magically a pull out bed. Not this one. Becuase God forbid these people payed a little extra money and made it possible for three people who didn’t want to share a bed with anyone, to actually share a room in peace.

Dean set his stuff down on a bed, Sam followed. “Uh- what about me? One of you guys is going to have to share, you do realize that right?” both of them let out a long sigh.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Dean held out his hands. Rock, paper, scissors. He always lost, except that one time. Just as you had predicted, he lost.

Night time rolled around like an old friend. And by the time it was 11pm, Dean was passed out. Sam and yourself followed short behind him. Except there was a problem. Dean snored- like a lot. It sounded like a damn powertool being drilled into your ear. How the hell did you not notice this before? Did he always snore? Maybe if you turned your back to him and rested a pillow on the ear facing upward…-nope didn’t work.

For the next four hours you tossed and turned, meanwhile both of your brothers were fast asleep and all comfortable. Enough was enough. Grabbing the pillow you were trying to rest your head on, you hit Dean in the arm with each word you whispered/yelled “Will. You. Shut. Up.”. He only sturred a little bit and turned his back towards you, falling back asleep.

This wasn’t going to work out. Plan B: Other Brother, was going into full effect. You got out of bed and walked over to Sam. “Dean’s a loud sleeper,” apparently that was enough for him, becuase he scooted over and made room for you.

Finally, you could get some sleep. Right? Wrong. Just as your eyes were closing to drift into a peaceful sleep, the covers were ripped off of you. Leaving you cold. Sam had stolen the damn blankets, all of them. Even the sheet had come off of the corners and wrapped itself around him. There was really no point in even trying to wake him up. So plan C: Operation get some damn sleep, was up next.


“Where’s Y/n?” Dean was just finishing stretching to wake himself up.

“I don’t know. I figured she fell off the bed or something,” both the boys checked under the bed just in case. Looking on the nightstand, they both noticed the keys were gone.

“Son of a bitch,” the way Dean said it was paniced and filled with worry. All of this melted away when they both walked outside to see the windows of Baby all steamed up from your breath. You were cuddled up to the seat, using Dean’s jacket as a blanket and one of Sam’s flannels all balled up as a pillow. “Well, son of a bitch” the way he said it this time was in awe. Both of them realized how much they loved and appreicated you in that moment. Watching you be at total and utter peace must’ve been their weakness.

4. JokerXReader!

Anonymus: Can you write one where the Joker finds the reader somewhere and she’s crying and he tries to cheer her up?

This one’s for you, Anon, hope you like it! :D 

Everyday the same boring things.

Eating, going to therapy, eating and still got locked up in your prison cell.

Your life was never that good, but this was horrible.

You could hardly remember the time you really had fun.

It’s been two months now, since you were brought to Arkham Asylum, because you killed your boyfriend, he cheated on you severall times and you were sick of his shit.

It drove you crazy everytime you found out about another slut, he got behind your back.

But it was not just him, who got you here.

Your parents weren’t innocent at all.

Physical abuse was a word you heared thousand times a day, in the last three years.

You got several therapists since you were thirteen years old.

Whenever your parents saw you doing something that wasn’t good in their mind, they blamed you.

It  was never called: „Okay we are the parents and did a lot wrong with our daughter.“

It always meant: „You are the one who is curious or crazy. It’s your fault, not ours.“

And here you go, years later, tired of all this shit, and now a new prisoner at Arkham, quiet funny.

It was at the and of your second month in here, when the cell towards yours got filled with someone new.

You always were alone at the end of this corridor, you didn’t miss anyone, the most people here weren’t much of your taste.

Just one or two, like the Riddler or the Mad Hatter, were personalitys you could go with.

They were nice to you, Edward Nygma always got some new riddles for you, when you sat together at the prisoners common room.

And the Mad Hatter told you tales from your favorite Book Alice in Wonderland, ‘cause you reminded him much of little Alice, besides your hair wasn’t blonde.

But this day was a different one.

It was raining outside and you really liked the sound of the rain drops when they hit the ground, outside of this living hell.

It reminds you at freedom, the freedom you missed, since you got locked up here.

Anyways you couldn’t hear the fall of the rain drops, ‘cause the security guards were too loud to hear anything besides them.

You looked up in surprising as they came with six men, weaponed to death and in the middle of them your new cell neighbour.

Which criminal could be so dangerous that it takes six weaponed men to carry him into his new home?

The answer was given, as one of the guards locked the cell towards you and all the others walked back into the corridor.

In the cell stands a tall man, with slicked back green hair and pale skin.

He got black tattoes all over his muscular torso.

„Well, hope you like your new neighbour, (Y/N).“

The guard said, as he catched you starring.

„Joker, (Y/N). (Y/N), Joker. Good luck, sweetheart, he is the worst one in this entire Asylum. Hope he doesn’t bother you that much.“

Than the guard was going his way again and you were alone with the man the entire Asylum was talking about everyday, not matter if he was here, or broke out a few months ago.

You couldn’t tell if you felt like playing or better be a little scared.

Joker starres at you like you starred at him, it felt like hours and you thought your knees would burst every second he starred even more intense, so you decided to sit down infront of the pane from your cell.

Joker begans to move too.

He took a step towards his own pane and puts his hands on it, before he pressed his forehead against the bulletproof material of his own cell and began to smile at you like a total maniac.

You smiled back and wave your hand a little, like a playful little girl.

He was crazy and you already liked him.

Finally someone who was not that kind of a monotonous criminal.

Joker now breathes on his glass panel and wrote something on the fogged surface with his index finger.

How did you get in here, doll? I’ve never seen a pretty thing like you in this rotten walls before.

You place your head crooked and wrote on your pane.

I murdered my boyfriend and my idiotic parents. They thought I was crazy because I wasn’t like they wanted me to be. And my boyfriend betrayed me once enough.

Joker wrote back with a big grin: Such a naughty little girl.

I know, you wrote with a smile which was cute and sexy at the same time.

Weeks flow by and Joker was now kind of your favorite man here.

Your little cell chats got more and more with everyday.

It suddenly started to be really funny at the Asylum since he was your neighbour.

But on this day, everything was just a mess.

First of all the security guards has woken you up at seven thirty p.m, just to bring you to your new therapist.

Doctor Laughlin was her name and she was a total bitch.

You’d never told anything really important in all of your sessions, the therapists knew that you just played with them like a little child does with it’s toys.

But this woman nearly tortured you.

As she didn‘t get from you what she wanted, she ordered to another doctor that you should get tied up on a operating table to get some electroshocks, maybe they would become something useful that way.

But instead of answering some questions you screamed the whole time.

It hurts, more than just bad and you wanted them to let go off you.

You felt like years has gone by, after they finally gave up on you and send you to the common room, because of the two hours free time the prisoners got, everyday.

Your whole body still shivered, as you sat down at a table on a chair far away from the other prisoners.

Tears were running down your cheeks as you felt the aftermaths of your therapy session again in your fingers and in your arms.

You didn’t want that anyone saw you cry, that’s why you sat with your back to the entire room, so you didn’t see Joker came into the room too.

It was the first time he was here since he came back at Arkham a few weeks ago, ‘cause everyone in the security guard thought that it was a bad idea, to let the mass murdering clown stay in contact with other prisoners.

But now they got a long, with the idea to put him in his good old straitjacket.

With his arms tied on at his back he walked through the room, until he saw you huddled in your chair.

An irritated look starts to grow on his face.

Normaly you were playful and smiling around like a little girl, when he sees you, but this was new for him.

„Welcome back, doll“, he smiled in amusement, as he sats down infront of you.

But his smile got frozen in his face, as soon as he saw you crying.

Crap, he hates when people cry.

Why wasn’t she laughing like yesterday?

He wasn’t good with crying people, that’s the reason he always wants them to smile, even when he tortures them.

Crying people made him aggressiv.

But why the fuck was she crying?

He sighed than he stood up from his chair and crouched down infront of you, so you had to look him in his crystal blue eyes, he looked at you with puppy eyes and said: „Why are you crying to your Mr J, doll?“  

„Listen, cupcake. If you don’t tell me what happened, I can’t help you feel better.“

You looked at him, than told him what your new therapist was like and also about the session you made it through.

„Maybe if I tie her up and beats her brain with shock therapie, she wouldn’t look like she got a cane in her ass“, he said hoping to cheer you up, and gave you that wicked grin, what always makes you smile.

The one he gave you at the first time you two met.

And it worked.

You couldn’t do different than just smile and than laugh, as he looked even more crazy, through his eyes.

„That’s a good girl, smile for your Mr J“, he grinned and kissed your cheek.

You laid his arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

He felt a bit strange about it, not because he did not like it that you were touching him, just because he never gets hugged from anyone usualy.

The most people just wanted as much space between Joker and them as possible.

So it’s kind of a premiere.

„You’re smiling now?“, he asks and you do as you let go off him.

„That’s my girl.“

Originally posted by la-leto

OKIDOKI who wants some Pearlmethyst? I wanted to upload something for Pearlmethursday but who knew I’d be stuck at work for eleven hours yesterday? JOY. Anyway, here it is! (Human AU as usual and just a sidenote: I tend to consistantly use the same last names for the gems in my human AU drabbles: Amethyst Rivera, Garnet Jones and Pearl Callaghan.)

Amethyst felt a tap on her arm, she looked up at Garnet who gestured at the nurse. She quickly took out her earbuds.
‘Miss Callaghan has woken up, she can see you now.’
A small huff of relief escaped her mouth before she thought better of it. She hated hospitals. The smell, the atmosphere, the whiteness of the walls. Fucking Pearl, getting rushed to the fucking E.R. Who the hell ignores a stabbing pain in the gut for five hours? She could practically hear her nagging voice in the back of her mind, replaying the argument they had in the car, 'I was working on the deployable synthetic aperture telescope, Amethyst, I don’t have TIME for pain.’
'How is she doing?’ Garnet rose, walking towards the direction the nurse gestured.
'She is still very groggy from the anaesthesia, she might be a bit incoherent.’ She ushered them in a sunny room occupied by several patients. They went to the far end.
Amethyst gave an undignified snort at the sight of Pearl. Her eyes were cloudy and squinted, the red bob no longer carefully tucked away behind her ears but almost falling in front of her eyes, lips slightly pursed. She looked rather dishevelled.
‘The doctor will be here shortly.’ The nurse left. Amethyst and Garnet approached the bed end. 'Hey P. How ya feeling?’
Pearl dipped her chin, closed one eye shut and stared at the both of them while curling up the corner of her mouth.
'Holy fucking shit, she is as high as a kite.’ Amethyst grinned.
'Do you remember why you went into surgery Pearl?’
She pursed her lips again. With a very audible slur and a cracking voice Pearl mumbled, 'Yeahh, my thing… Is now gone.’ She pointed her finger up, the way she usually did when she spoke, only to be distracted by her own action halfway. She stared at her finger as if it held the secrets of the universe.
'This is amazing.’ Amethyst whispered. 'We should totally film this!’ As she reached for her phone, Pearl gave a loud hum. 'Ame…’
Amethyst stopped in her tracks. She didn’t hear that nickname often. At least never from Pearl. 'Yes Pierogi?’
Pearl hummed again, as if contemplating something of great importance. That moment the doctor entered the room to join them. She was tall wiry woman who towered over Amethyst. Introductions were made and the doctor grabbed the chart fixed to the bed.
'The surgery was successful. We performed a laparotomy and the infected area has been cleared. It seems miss Callaghan came here just in time.’ She glanced towards Pearl who was now staring out the window, 'If she would have waited half an hour more, her appendix would have burst and she would have suffered from gastrointestinal perforation.’
'Like,’ Amethyst frowned. 'A hole in her gut?’
'Yes. If that happens, the intestinal content seeps into the abdominal cavity. This can result in severe bacterial infections.’
Garnet hummed as the doctor continued, 'You did well, taking her to the hospital when you did.’
'Good call.’ Garnet put her hand on Amethyst’s shoulder. Amethyst took a deep breath and a mental note to yell at Pearl for her carelessness once she was fully awake.
All eyes turned towards the bed. Pearl, looking as seriously as one can in such a state of mind, gestured for Amethyst to come closer. The doctor continued to talk towards Garnet about the upcoming rehabilitation procedure as Amethyst scooted towards the chair next to Pearl’s bedside.
'Sup Pearly?’
Pearl leaned towards her slightly and “whispered” rather loudly 'The doctor is very tall.’
Amethyst suppressed another snort. 'Yup. Well you’re not exactly short either.’
Amethyst grinned. She may not have her camera ready, but she was going to drag this out as long as possible. She could use it for blackmail purposes later.
Pearl squinted her eyes again. 'You are short.’ The “s” was slurred.
'That’s correct.’
'But it’s perfect. It’s… A perfect size.’
Amethyst rose an amused eyebrow. This was great material. 'A perfect size for what?’
Pearl leaned towards her, loud whispering again, 'For cuddling.’ Her eyes got wider in shock. 'Which we… Never do!’ She tapped the matrass, gesturing for Amethyst to lie next to her.
Oh my god. 'P. I don’t think it’s a great idea to cuddle buddy while you have a fresh hole in your body.’ At the sight of horrible sad disappointment, Amethyst quickly continued, 'I promise I’ll cuddle you once you’re better, okay?’ Pearl pursed her lips. Was that a pout?
'I can hold your hand if you’d like?’ Amethyst offered her hand. Pearl always seemed to be physically holding on to people for comfort. Usually Garnet. Pearl gladly took her hand, even going so far as intertwining their fingers. Amethyst felt a flush on her face and an un ignorable tingle in her stomach. She was glad Pearl was too groggy to notice.
Pearl hummed as if approving her own action. Her eyes now focussed on Amethyst’s face.
'Yes P?’
'You are so pretty. So so pretty.’ Pearl was staring.
'And you’re pretty out of it.’
Pearl ignored her. 'Your lips are just amazing. So pretty.’
Woah. Okay. 'It’s good to know all you need is an operation for me to get some lovin’.’ She grinned.
'I don’t tell you that… Do I?’
This was now dangerously bordering on seriousness, but Amethyst decided to stretch it just a bit further. 'Tell me what exactly?’
'That I really like you. You are funny. And cute. And so so pretty. And smart too, even if you…’ She pointed towards Amethyst with a finger of the hand she used to hold her, 'Don’t think so.’
Amethyst felt herself get flustered and tried to focus on the conversation Garnet had with the doc. Had they heard theirs? As on cue, the nurse from before materialized next to Pearl’s bed, checking on the dripping IV.
Pearl looked at her. 'Hello misses nurse, ma'am. Would you like to meet my Amethyst?’
'Oh my god.’
'I have a huge crush on her but SSSSHT… She doesn’t know that yet.’ She turned to Amethyst and winked. Amethyst buried her face in her free hand, 'Sweet Jesus.’
The nurse tried to contain a smile, 'She is a very good looking young lady.’
Pearl limply tried to raise both arms, still holding on to Amethyst. 'I know right!’
Amethyst peaked through her fingers, before lowering her hand as the nurse left again. Pearl had a sheepish grin on her face. Her hair was really everywhere.
Amethyst untangled her other hand from Pearl’s, to her vocal disapproval, to grab a hair tie from her pocket.
'Just a sec P.’ She leaned forward, trying not to put too much pressure on Pearl’s bed. She took several of the ginger strands and tied them away in a half tail. She tucked a few escaped hairs behind Pearl’s ear. 'There ya go.’
'Thank you. I quite enjoy it when you touch my… me.’
Amethyst barked a laugh. 'Jesus P. There is no stopping you at this point, is there?’
Pearl leaned her head back into the pillow. 'Would you like me to?’
'Nah.’ Amethyst gave a lopsided smile. 'I like it.’
'You do?’
Amethyst gently grabbed Pearl’s wrist before giving a small squeeze and a thumb rub. 'Yeah.’
'Good.’ Pearl scrunched up her nose, closing one eye. 'Good good good.’ She weakly patted Amethyst’s arm. Pearl looked towards the bed end, distracted.
'Hey, why are you smiling?’
She’d forgotten all about Garnet, FUCK. Amethyst snapped her head towards her. The doctor had apparently left and there was a phone pointed at her face. Garnet was grinning from ear to ear.
'You said you wanted it filmed, didn’t you?’


Operation Get Some will commence on July 7th 2013 and culminate with a Generation Kill rewatch on Day 7, July 13th 2013. This blog will be maintained by nurul and garance. Please tag all your posts as #operationgetsome!

T-Minus 9 sleeps to BMAM-Mass my lieblings and in celebration of the upcoming festive season I give you:

Campwolfe Twelve Days of Christmas

Sung of course from Serena’s perspective with accompanying bonus lyric notes/commentary from Ms. Campbell herself.

On the first day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me, a lin-ger-ing look in the LIFT.

<she thinks she can woo me but bugger it if I’ll succumb>

On the second day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the LIFT.

<Nesting dolls?! As if I’d want any of that claptrap to remind me she took off to the Ukraine. The silly pillock labeled them “Fräulein” and “Army Medic”. She’s not putting them on my bloody side of the desk>

On the third day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me three vodka shots, two nesting dolls, and a lingering look in the lift

<Vodka.  Finally something I can work with. She left the bottle on her desk. I shared it with Morven and Raf.  HA!>

On the fourth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<After the vodka shots from yesterday I need all the coffee I can get.  She’s doing this on purpose. Currently taking the caffeine shots but ignoring puppy dog eyes telegraphing her need for a ‘chat’>

On the fifth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<She filled all of them with top shelf scotch. I informed her that I’ve switched to bourbon and her face went all mopey.  Glorious.>

On the sixth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift

<Ok I’ll grudgingly admit these are quite a lovely peace offering……IT WILL STILL BE A COLD DAY IN HELL BEFORE WE ARE IN THEATRE TOGETHER!>

On the seventh day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me, seven crates of shiraz, six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<Chateauneuf du pape?!?!? Seven crates? What did she do sell her left kidney? Perhaps there is something to this forgiveness thing after all.  It wouldn’t hurt to allow her just one teensy glass would it?

On the eighth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me, eight helpful F1’s, seven crates of shiraz, six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls, and a lingering look in the lift.

<I’ve never been able to find even one F1 who could do a spinal puncture on the first go and she’s found eight who haven’t made my life hell.  She also followed up on all their paperwork. And ran interference with Ric Griffin for me. Fast losing my grip on fury. Damn sneaky tactic Major. Well played.>

On the ninth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me nine ‘please forgive me’s’, eight helpful F1’s, seven crates of shiraz, six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<She used complete sentences.  That voice! And her lower lip even quivered a bit.  Came dangerously close to accepting her apologies. Settled for wiping away her tears. I may be losing this campaign.>

On the tenth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me ten evenings she’s minding Jason, nine ‘please forgive me’s’, eight helpful F1’s, seven crates of shiraz, six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<She’s offered to watch Mary Beard with him for the next 10 weeks so I can get paperwork done for the trauma unit. Or garden.  Whichever I prefer.  Apparently. Not quite ready to tell her but; I’m screwed.>

On the eleventh day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me, eleven medicinal breakfast pastries, ten evenings she’s minding Jason, nine ‘please forgive me’s’, eight helpful F1’s seven crates of shiraz, six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<Jason had her come to fish n chips take away. Sneaky sod. Since when does he bugger off to bed a half eight? It was a conspiracy. A bottle or two of Chateauneuf du pape later and suddenly there she was splayed out on the Egyptian cotton.  What was I supposed to do, allow her to drive home?  That would have been frightfully irresponsible. There aren’t enough pastries in Pulses to get me through the sleep deprivation…..>

On the twelfth day of Christmas that Blonde Job gave to me twelve office kisses, eleven medicinal breakfast pastries, ten evening’s she’s minding Jason, nine ‘please forgive me’s’, eight helpful F1’s, seven crates of shiraz, six leopard print caps, five whiskey flasks, four coffees strong ’n’ hot, three vodka shots, two nesting dolls and a lingering look in the lift.

<Yes all right, fine, I’ve given in.  I took the strategic hills but she won the war.  I suppose it was a losing battle right from the start going up against the army. In her defence she’s promised no more Club Screw Up and in my defence her lips are exceedingly convincing.  Turns out full sentences weren’t really needed after all…..>

If anyone is at all interested I could be arm twisted in to actually scratching these lyrics out into some sheet music and posting it. I draw the line at singing - but if someone else wanted to have a go……

It’s been over a week now and Bernie Wolfe has failed to answer Serena’s email. This does seem a bit odd considering that regardless of anything else that’s afoot, Bernie is Serena’s co-lead for the Trauma Unit. Are the email servers at Kyiv General down? Is this a simple case of her reply getting electronically lost? These are the important questions of our time and as such, @thepurrbutton and I have put together a couple of lists of potential reasons for Bernie’s radio silence.

Read part one here.

While Bernie was in the middle of a particularly extensive and tricky surgery, one of the overhead lights in theatre fell and smashed her in the head. She’s fine but has a small case of amnesia and can’t remember who anyone is at the moment. “Serena??? Who??”

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