#prove me wrong!!!!!!!

[stinkythehutt]

something i enjoy about the difference in star wars costuming from the prequels til now, is that you can tell that in the prequels george lucas had near total control over most of the looks, especially those of the jedi. anakin in ROTS is obv a smokeshow thanks to hayden christensen but he is styled so much like what an old straight guy thought a “cool bad boy” looked like in 2003. the big leather tabard and the mismatched fresh out the bag fruit of the loom brand robes and the mullet and scar that you know george thought was so badass even though objectively anyone with eyes would call it pretty. and his big trousers tucked into his boots lol. anakin in ROTS dresses like the daydreams of a middle school boy who just bought a pleather jacket with his allowance because he wants everyone to know that he just started downloading green day albums off of limewire. and no one has the heart to tell him that he looks like a young winona ryder. contrast that with qimir in the acolyte who you can tell was styled by a woman because his robes look all worn and fucked up and you can actually see his enormous arms and sweaty face and greasy hair & it lends itself an air of danger because it isn’t trying too hard. and there’s a good argument that anakin’s outfits in ROTS are actually reflective of his cringefail personality & inability to get dressed well on a combined 15 minutes of sleep through the course of a week, and I wouldn’t fight you on that, but we all know the truth is that george lucas thought it looked so fucking cool

[prokopetz]

I think people sometimes misunderstand why we come up with such elaborate justifications for shipping two characters together. I don't justify my ships because I feel that I need to; I justify my ships because squinting at the published canon with furrowed brow and asking myself "okay, how exactly would this work?" is my idea of a good time.

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[stil-lindigo]

mumbattan's one and only pavitr prabhakar!!

prints

[lilysaus]

reblog if you consider the people youve befriended on this website (and other websites) to be real friends, even if youve never met them irl before

trying to prove something to my dad

[egophiliac]

roll out the red carpet guys we're going to the SHAFTLANDS

[toast-the-unknowing]

Had a debate with a friend and now I gotta know

please reblog for larger sample size, my friend bet me no one would say Gimli and I wanna prove her wrong

[girldadbuckley]

Any orders, Cap?

[saurongorthaur9]

The true measure of evil in Tolkien's work is how much the character disrespects or hates trees.

[legobenkenobi]

THEY WILL NEVER KNOW THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED. OBI-WAN WILL NEVER KNOW CODY DIDN’T CHOOSE IT AND CODY WILL NEVER KNOW OBI-WAN SURVIVED AND AND AND

[curly-cottage-girl]

“Veggietales is Christian propaganda” veggietales taught me that I am special and loved and I should stand up for what is right and also not to trust the IRS

[hotdogs4breakfast]

You can’t tell me they wouldn’t get along. Like they are more twins than their OWN twins y’know?

[killershrike]

Okay, but imagine a human giving their yautja lover a lemon for the first time. the yautja just chews the entire lemon whole, and you instantly burst out with laughter, causing your love to narrow their eyes in suspicion. But before they can question you, their entire face scrunches into disgust and mild horror. They can't spit it out because to waste a gift from you would be to dishonour their mate. So they're forced to chew through the intense foreign feeling, unable to stop their manibiles from clacking visciously in displeasure. You can't stop giggling, eyes watering as you have to cover your mouth to keep from bellowing laughter. Your yautja certainly doesn't find it as funny.

When they finish the nasty fruit they growl at you. "Ooman knew what would happen. Tricky ooman." And they reach out to pull you into their chest. "Will show you what happens when little ooman plays tricks." Their growl in your ear is seductive and makes you shudder instinctively.

You're already wondering how they would react to a lime next.

[ejoym]

Redraw from David Blaine Street Magic Part 3 by thoselilrabbits. I'm so sorry for the convoluted Venn diagram of references you need to know in order to understand this joke.

[doberbutts]

I always think it's funny whenever I post about an issue that directly affects me and someone responds with "you're an idiot that doesn't know what you're talking about" and I have to be like. Hello. This is my demographic. Do you see this label here? Guess who falls under it OH RIGHT it's me. Maybe I like. Have some amount of idea of what I'm talking about considering this is sampled directly from my life experiences. Just a thought.