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RB for the largest sample size this site has ever seen. it's time to put an end to this.

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for fun

bruh sorry english is not my native language

it's a little difficult for me

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Haven't here in a hot minute so here's a huuuuge tf2 dump+*+$(#$!!!!

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I just noticed all of the female characters with red hair in Rusty Lake have premonitions/visions…

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i thought of this in the shower and nearly tripped in my rush to sit down and draw it lawl

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My beloved Remy the rat but if he was a vocaloid💙

I love he so much!

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(It's 2023 and I'm still playing Fallout 4. And I'm still mad you cannot romance Nick in the vanilla game. The film noir gentleman toaster was a good testing ground for the colour jitter brushes for CSP I've been working on for a while though.)

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the way tumblr tags trend is so funny, sometimes it seems like if ONE post gets popular the entire tag trends.

I’m gonna do an experiment. let’s use the tag

uhhhhhh

#mole interest

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are evil dragons really evil, or are they just vitamin D deficient?

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it’s past midnight and i need to sleep but more importantly 

I need to talk about Mags Flanagan from the Hunger Games

Listen. Listen. She might be a minor character who dies halfway through the book she arrives in. But her story is fucking fascinating. 

First of all, since she’s 80 years old during the 75th Annual Hunger Games, she would have been 5 when they started. That means that she’s the only victor we know of that’s guaranteed to have memories of the beginning of the games, not to mention the rebellion itself.

Second, there’s a promotional poster that has a photo of her Victory Tour and the Implications it accidentally has are staggering

her expression and the fact that they dressed her in a military uniform with medals is captivating in its own right but. She’s the victor of the 11th Hunger Games. That doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is.

The 10th Games, featured in The Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes, took place in a literal arena. They were the first Games to feature sponsorships and betting, which meant they were the first Games where a tribute’s ability to play to the camera mattered. Lucy Gray, their victor, did not have a victory tour.

Mags Flanagan having the 11th games means that she was the first tribute to know that winning over the audience was a factor from the minute she was Reaped. She was the first tribute with a Victory Tour. It’s likely they she also may have been the first tribute to fight in an arena of the kind that’s shown in the actual Hunger Games trilogy.

So she goes from a witness to the fall of the rebellion and the Capitol’s new horror, to a record-breaking and possibly crowd-favorite Victor. That’s already a lot and we’re only 20% through her life.

She then went on to be a seasoned mentor for Four, possibly shaping it into a Career District. She played the Capitol’s games, while eventually becoming a rebel conspirator.

Speaking of the rebellion-Her district’s victors were far more onboard with fighting against the Capitol than any other Career District. If not for Lyme from District Two (shoutout to Lyme from District Two), Four’s victors would be the only career district victors that actively plotted against the Capitol. Why? When did this start? What was Mags’ hand in it?

I have a million questions about her. Mags Flanagan appreciation please

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communion wafers are not cruelty free. they fucked that boy upppp

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The stranger there among them had a 40mm grenade launcher on his hip (40mm grenade launcher on his hiiiiiiip)

Playing through Fallout:New Vegas for the first time in years. And I'm developing a newfound appreciation for the damage done to the intended pacing of the narrative with the addition of the Courier's Stash. I wake up in Goodsprings, and as part of the extended tutorial you have Ghosttown Gunfight, the fairly self-contained faction war between Goodsprings and the Powder Gangers. And the design intent, I think, is that this is probably supposed to be a pain in the ass, with only one or two avenues of support available to you given the low level at which you'll pick this one up. Six Powder Gangers, some in body-armor, would be a serious threat, and committing to fighting against that with your dinky 9mm and a varmint rifle seems like a rough time! An actual uphill battle, doing the right thing instead of the easy thing. Fortunately, Benny inexplicably left my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, so I cleaned up.

I'm working my way south, and, you know, in a version of the game where Benny didn't inexplicably leave my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, this would have been the knock-on effect of my "good" Karmic choice in defending Goodsprings; the road south is littered with powder gangers who'd have been neutral had I not kicked the hornet's nest. As it stands? Free experience. I hit Primm, and fighting through the cramped hallways of the Bison Steve I encounter an enemy armed with what was clearly supposed to be the first heavy weapon I'd encounter in the world. Tight Corridors. Inexplicable Grenade Launcher. I clean up. South I go to the Mojave outpost, Nipton, that whole thing. And clearly, clearly you aren't meant to take a swing at Vulpes here, right? You're supposed to take it in, get a sense for the legion. In the version of the game that shipped you're supposed to get bodied if you try to kick the beef gate here. There are allowances in the game for if you pull it off, sure, but I did try with just the service rifle, without the glorious first-strike capabilities afforded to me by the 40mm grenade launcher that Benny inexplicably left in the grave with me. It didn't go very well!

So now I'm dogged by Legion hit squads on my way to Novac, which I get the distinct impression was not the point in the game at which this was supposed to start happening to me, because I am gathering up some pretty expensive equipment, all sold for space. I punch through to Vegas, and at this stage, the clear developer intent is that you need to spend some time milling around Freeside or Camp McCarran in order to gain access to the Strip- do odd jobs to scrape up the money, buy the forgery from Mick and Ralphs, gain monorail access, get your science skill high enough to hack the robot. Get the lay of the land, get a feel for the people, send some time stewing in the human cost of House's walled garden before you head in and hear the pitch from the big man himself.

Except I've got 5000 caps from selling off all the legion killteam equipment. In I go!

And the fun thing is, right, the Courier's stash can't be diegetic, but it is having a very direct impact on the world here. A top legion guy just went down to my inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher. Whatever else I'm roleplaying as, I am roleplaying as a guy who woke up in the possession of an inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher, and neither I nor my character can plausibly ignore that fact given its terrible bloodstained utility. I play a man, a man who would be a good man, a man nonetheless bewitched by the terrible resolutory power of the grenade launcher. My best friend, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher! My worst enemy, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher!

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3.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

She could really go for a croissant, not that it was up to her. The people with money and jobs ordered their breakfast off of Cafe Kuro’s real paper menus, and she ordered her breakfast off of unattended plates.

Reckless thieves got caught, or killed, or lost an arm and nearly died in their friend’s arms. For example. Shiv had resolved to be less reckless. As she saw it, there were three problems that needed solving if she was going to eat.

First, there was the issue of her silhouette. Being down an arm hopefully wasn’t a permanent problem, but prosthetics took cash she didn’t have, and in the meantime it was an obvious identifying marker. She ducked off the main road, and squatted down next to a dumpster overflowing with trash, just one more broken piece of garbage no one who was anyone would look twice at.

Working quickly, she opened her bag, digging around until she procured a shirt and pants. Unpinning the sleeve of her coat and stuffed the clothes into it before sticking the end of the sleeve into her pocket. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would hold up to close inspection, but a stolen pastry shouldn’t garner too much attention. She calmly stood and exited the alley like she’d just been passing through.

She’d solved the second problem the first time she robbed Cafe Kuro, over a decade ago. Gin, a kid a few years her elder, had walked her through figuring out the blind spots of the street’s security cameras. You didn’t have to avoid the cameras’ notice all the way, merely confine illicit activity to those safe harbors.

As she approached the cafe, she double checked that the angles of the cameras were unchanged. As she made almost-but-not-quite-eye-contact with the rectangular bulk of each camera, Shiv recalled what Gin had told her: “Big cameras like these aren’t really to watch people, they’re to remind them they’re being watched.” They existed to make the desperate amateur think twice before trying anything, but to Shiv they might as well not be there at all.

The last thing she had to do was order off the only menu she had access to. There were seven tables in the blind spots, and six of them had plates. She sat down on a bench, wishing she still had a phone to pretend to look at. She settled for affecting the glassy stare of someone with an implanted HUD.

The first time someone stood from one of the tables, they quickly gathered their things and left. The second person to stand turned and walked into the store, to piss or to pick up a drink. He looked like an asshole in his dark blue suit, and his hands flashed silver as he pushed in his chair.

The most common mistake a novice thief made was moving too quickly. Running, a quick grabbing hand, they all triggered some animal part of the brain and attracted attention. You couldn’t be slow, either. The movements had to be smooth. You practiced what you could beforehand, and planned out what you couldn’t practice.

Shiv walked into the seating area like she intended to enter the cafe. At the threshold, she turned around–not quickly, but purposefully–as if she’d remembered something she had to do elsewhere. As she passed the abandoned plate, her arm swept the fancy tart upon it into a pocket, and then she was out.

Cafe Kuro was on the way to Ornarch’s domain, and, on second thought, not far from where Gin had died.

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