#(so there's that)

[undressrehearsal]

lets get one thing straight gideon nav is a loser with no rizz

ppl characterize her as this big butch himbo sex god jock but she's literally. a loser. like we're talking about the girl who constantly thinks about coronabeth's tits when she's in the room but when a hot girl actually tries to talk to her she takes any excuse to dip. she canonically reads sleazy porn magazines and unironically loves puns

she's a loser and i love her for it

[sandstworm]

random cherik sketch for setting up tablet purposes

[alienboy51]

yes i DO consider barbie in a christmas carol to be one of the best adaptations. MAYBE for nostalgia reasons, but also because it made scrooge a lesbian

[reiverreturns]

rdr2 is such a special game to replay because. god. the whole thing is a ghost story. the gang is dead before they even reach colter. everything that tears them apart - the mistrust, the friction, the loss, the lack of place and time - it's there from the beginning. before the beginning. papered over by a veneer of love and care and family but when the last of it leaves they're all just. gone. scraps of newspaper headlines faded in the sun and wooden grave markers that will rot and fall back into the earth. if you've played rdr you know what happens to these characters. you play your first playthrough of rdr2 knowing you're hurtling towards an inescapable end. you play every one thereafter knowing the end has already come.

[modmad]

is the fact that Dial has the 'least' face of all your characters intentional or just. just me reading too much into it

correct! Dial has the most unreadable 'face' of all the TPoH cast (there are other aspects of his character design that are about that too). RGB has an object head but it has clear expressions and is able to emote, and Click has a face which is actually an object and can't see, speak, or change its expression. Dial has the 'truest' object of all in that it can neither emote nor does it have any real interpretable human features.

[archervale]

Ok but the way misha keeps talking about destiel there's literally no way he would say yes to a continuation without at the very least a kiss with tongue and everything

[pralinesims]

Unhappy valentine’s day from these fools 🖤

[the-californicationist]

hey fam

my mental health has been, como se dice?... not good. just wanted to say thanks for all the likes and comments and reblogs and awesome posts and feral smut. im not the best at responding lately but ill get better.

[eddiediaaz]

okay one thing i will say about buck dating natalia is that seeing the hot fit buff guy with a beautiful curvy mid-size woman who’s not a size zero is actually super nice (because the bar is so low)

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

"What you gonna do? Huh?" "I'm gonna break your kneecap, then I'm gonna snap your right wrist. Then I'm gonna take that knife away from you. and I'm gonna finish your boys off with it, and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it."

Almost Paradise S01E08 Lone Wolf.

[antiendovents]

breaking the queue I already set up to vent. Probably gonna put it under the cut because GOD DAMN I am angry. Dont worry, the queue will be back to normal soon ((yes I queue posts, don't question me, I will cry))

Uh, also I think I'll add a tag for my own vents, so you can block them if you wanna (#personal vent / #personal vents <- two because I'll probably forget to add or get rid of the "s")

I HATE ENDOS. I am like barely holding myself together, I am sick and tired of trying to find xenogenders, labels, ect, for me and my headmates only for them to be made by endos. Even when I see pro endos with like "oh, DNI if anti endo, but you can still use my terms so don't reclaim them" it makes me pissed off because I DONT WANT to use an pro endos term. I shouldn't have to. Am I going to reclaim it? I DONT KNOW. I want to but I have no motivation, only fear and anger. I am sick of my disorder being treated like a game. I have literally lost years of my life. Years, months that I can't remember. All of it gone. I question whats a trauma response and what's not constantly, I don't know if the trauma I remember is all that happened or if there's more I don't know about. Yet endos can just sit here with their little roleplaying accounts, pretending to have the disorder that makes my life a living hell. I can't make friends, I'm so fucking scared of people, of the outside world, so I come here to the internet and everything is so much worse. FUCK SAKE WHY CANT I JUST HAVE A SPACE TO BE ME. I am so tired of endos taking over safe spaces.

[thegoldenlily]

We do bones

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Setting up each set of polls involves saying to ourselves "I bet they could get all the way to the quarter finals" about most of these attractive people.

The sexyman list is indeed sexy.

[wrencatte]

mini-fic 4 (ish)!!

pre-Survivor Bravo and Gabs learn about Cal's psychometry - and I give Cal a sniper rifle. Bravo POV. 1.3k

Cal smiles and says, “Blasters aren’t the Jedi way,” in that tone that he thinks makes him sound all-wise and mysterious, but Bravo’s heard that same tone when he tried to cover up his latest cooking disaster, so he doesn’t. buy it for a second. Gabs doesn’t even bother covering her laugh. Cal pointedly shifts to turn his back on her, focusing his attention on Bravo instead.

The pilot grins and taps the table between them, bringing the Jedi’s focus back to the dismantled DH-447 rifle on it. “C’mon, man. What happens if you lose your fancy lasersword?”

“I won’t lose it.”

“But if you did?”

“I have the Force.”

“Cal.”

“Bravo.” But Cal’s laughing, which makes him feel better about needling him like this. “I seriously doubt I’ll ever end up in a situation where I’ll have to snipe someone. And, if for some reason, I end up without my ‘saber, I’ll probably pick up a normal blaster or something. I don’t need to know how to use that.”

“You never know,” Braco insists. Cal sighs. “Listen. We’ve landed on a perfectly good planet to give it a shot. There’s no one around to see you if you’re that worried about embarrassing yourself.”

Cal glares at him. Bravo just smirks and shrugs unrepentantly, recognizing that look. “You are the worst,” the Jedi hisses, gesturing for the pilot to reassemble the rifle, a resigned expression on his face. Bravo does so gleefully, expertly slotting everything into place.

“You’re too easy, Kestis,” Gabs calls out from her spot in the shade of the Mantis’s nose where she’s scrolling through a holopad. “He didn’t even bring out the tooka-eyes.” BD-1 whistles his agreement. She reaches up a pats the droid’s head.

Cal huffs. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” he tells his droid. BD beeps a happy since when that makes him laugh and shake his head. Gabs cackles loudly.

Bravo finishes reassembling the rifle, does his final checks, and hands it over. Cal hesitates then takes it up, fingers fluttering over the weapon carefully.

“You’ve shot with this?”

“Dozens of times.”

“You hit your target?”

He throws up a vulgar gesture towards the Jedi first, then to the laughing Gabs. “Yes, you asshole. I hit my target every time. Why?”

Cal smirks. “Just checking.” There’s an odd look on his face, one Bravo’s seen before, but has never been able to place. His touch stutters on the cheek piece, brows furrowing. “Got something to paint a target with?���

Bravo nods and grabs the pointer before they head towards the edge of the canyon cliff. Gabs isn’t far behind, bringing her holopad to record it along with BD-1’s perspective. Below them is a meandering river, framed on either side with low, spindly plants and tall, wide trees with a sparse number of leaves, making them the perfect targets.

They watch the Jedi clear a spot of rocks and set up the tripod for the rifle, moving so quickly and efficiently that Bravo is immediately suspicious that he’s been duped. He scowls and crosses his arms, shooting a glance at Gabs, who looks confused and just shrugs.

“Cal,” she drags out, tapping the back of his boot. “Were you lying? You look like you know what you’re doing.”

“Wasn’t lying,” Cal answers distractedly as he lays on his stomach and peers through the scope. “I haven’t survived this long without knowing how to use a blaster, but I swear I’ve never shot a rifle before. Paint me a target, Bravo.”

Bravo lays next to him and paints a tree. “Eight-forty,” he murmurs from the read out. The projection is bright this close up, just a couple hundred meters shy of the lower range of this particular rifle model. The further the target, the fainter the paint, but it’s not really meant for long distances, unlike the rifle. The read out tells him wind resistance and whatnot, but he keeps his mouth shut, curious to see what the Jedi is going to do.

Cal sits there for longer than is smart, but they’re not on a mission or in active combat, so Bravo doesn’t say anything. His breathing is even, almost like meditation. Another second ticks by, then another, and then Cal is squeezing the trigger with the sort of patient skill that takes people years to learn. Must be a Jedi thing.

The shot goes high, hitting just the edge of the paint. Cal swears in Huttese, insulting himself, which just makes Bravo’s jaw drop. If what Cal said is true and he’s never picked up a rifle before with the intention to shoot, then he has no reason to be mad at that shot.

“What the hell?” Gabs gasps. “You were lying!”

Cal laughs, highly entertained. “Nope, still not lying. Paint me another.”

Bravo does. “Ten-thirty.”

He doesn’t pause as long to squeeze the trigger this time, three heartbeats, and the bolt hits the target a couple centimeters from bullseye. “One more.”

“Fourteen-twelve. Far as we can go.” The canyon isn’t wide enough. It’s impossible that Cal’s getting better the further they go out. Bravo refuses to believe he’s never done this before.

Sure enough, even with the paint faded at this distance, the Jedi hits bullseye. Cal moves off the scope, expression purely ‘loth-cat who got the cream.’ He clicks the safety on and rolls onto his back, thrusting his hands up triumphantly with a giddy laugh.

Gabs kicks the bottom of his boots obnoxiously. “Hey! No! You were definitely lying. What the hell was that?”

Bravo’s still staring at the last tree. “I’m with Gabs on this one.”

Cal props himself up on his elbows, surveying them with a suddenly somber expression. Gabs stops kicking his heels, getting serious. BD-1 boop-whirls comfortingly…encouragingly? Cal smiles fondly at him. Bravo sits up cross-legged, waiting patiently. Cal keeps secrets. They all do. The two of them have only been working with the Jedi for a couple months now, and Bravo knows there’s a lot more going on in that head of his than either of them are ever going to know, but this seems more serious than when he told them about Bracca, or what’d happened during the Purge.

“I have this ability,” he starts slowly, eyes flicking between them as if he’s still making the decision to trust them, Bravo realizes. “It’s called psychometry. People, events, experiences, they leave an imprint in the Force, an echo of the past. I touch something and I can feel it happen.”

Bravo glances at the rifle. “You felt me shooting that?”

Cal nods. “I was in your place. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten an echo from a rifle, but this is the first time I’ve tried to use one, or a dozen, to shoot it. You’re a good shot.”

“So are you,” Bravo says dazedly.

Gabs tilts her head. “Is that how you knew the vault codes back on that mission on Nar Shaddaa? An echo?”

“Yep,” Cal says, popping the ‘p.’

“Huh, that’s really useful.”

Cal laughs, throwing his head back at the force of it. “Yep,” he repeats, eyes crinkling at the corners. Gabs smiles back. The Jedi doesn’t laugh nearly as much as she thinks he should. He has a nice smile.

“What other skills does that work on?” Bravo can’t help but ask.

“Most of them. I’m limited by the length of the echo and, you know, my human-ness, but if I get enough echoes of the same thing, or they’re long enough, it gets pretty stuck in my head.”

“That’s really useful.”

Gabs kicks Cal’s boot again to bring his focus on her. “Thanks for trusting us with that,” she says sincerely. “I know you Jedi are a mistrustful bunch (for a good reason, I know) and we’ve only known each other for a little while, so thanks. It means a lot.”

The crinkle around Cal’s eyes stays there as he smiles bright enough Bravo makes a joke about needing sunshades. “You’re trustworthy people. BD likes you.” The droid whistles his agreement. “See? Now, c’mon, let’s get back to what we were doing before Bravo got all ‘Cal needs to learn how to shoot.’ Saw wants us on Norsid in three weeks.”

[beggars-opera]

Yearly reminder for people learning about Salem that Tituba was Native American. This poor woman has already suffered enough without people getting her race wrong for three hundred years