#this is from the experience 2017

[cowboyshit]

they're horrible (I love them)

[ink-the-artist]

truly not trying to detract from the very russian art of the generational trauma wolves, and i know the colors are from the ussr + russia flags, but it also spoke to me as a hispanic person. especially w respect to misogyny and how machismo tears families apart, and how trauma that comes from outside the family units gets repeated/expressed within the family unit. idk.

absolutely it applies to more than just russians, im glad it speaks to other ppl :)

[blaithnne]

Realistically speaking, Beakley would never wear something this constricting. But you’re gonna tell me you DIDN’T want to see her in this dress?

[creepycr4wly]

Woahg.....whos this guy

Commission me

[how-queerious]

been seein lot of posts calling the cast weird for the way they/their characters are being with the whole "destined" aspect of callowmoore but like consider who does and does not seem to outwardly ship it that way.

maybe there are things and dynamics i've been missing but to me there is a clear division between which characters (not actors) are pushing it and which are not; The main people seeming to push for it are FCG, Imogen, Laudna, and Fearne. The main people just watching and not really swaying either way are Orym, Chet, and Ash. Here's my thoughts on the possible motivations for that from a character perspective. With that in mind, I have focused on the PCs here; I have all the love in the world for matt as a DM, but to untangle the intricacies of his character work in literally even just one episode at a time is a whole other post. Accidental essay below the cut y'all.

broad strokes are that the camps are divided primarily* by who has and hasn't had extensive adult romantic relationships. Laudna, Imogen, and FCG are all experiencing what seem to be their first real adult relationships, and have had notably, explicitly little experience with romance at all beyond that. Fearne herself, despite her age, also seems to have had very little experience with romance and love (remembering that casual or platonic sex is not romance). They have all been starry-eyed and naive about love in prior episodes, and Laudna in particular has a childlike view of it. To compound this, Fearne has been lonely the vast majority of her life, just her, her nana, and their companions of questionable sentience and willingness. Exhibited in some of the darker episodes, and stated by ashley (at some point), she is literally just learning how to feel as mortals do in the prime material plane. Many of us as young shippers were drawn to the allure of the "Soulmate AU" for a lot of the same reasons.

On the other side of the coin, we have the three opposed or neutral. Chet and Orym, unlike any of the others, have both experienced long-term mature romantic relationships. Though Chet often focuses on the sex, and Orym tends not to focus on anything if he can help it, both have shown in their character choices and interactions with people from their past that they have the understanding of mature and healthy(ish) romance. As a contrast to their knowledgability, Ashton has only ever been burned by what should have been love in the past, and has not experienced romance. They have spent their whole life fighting fate, and will continue to do so for at least the time being. He is just learning to let themself love platonically, of course they don't want to follow "fate" to a romantic relationship with someone as chaotic and beautiful and terrifying as Fearne. They'll do the cool combos with her, and he'll flirt and tease, but anything else is unknown territory in a field already littered with the casualties of their past attempts to trust.

Though they may seem to be pushing for this fated dynamic in a way that feels very off for CR, there are genuine and realistic character motivations for them to do so. Perhaps I'm putting too much thought and faith behind it, but I think the specificity of who is or isn't pushing speaks great volumes to the fact that these are all people who have a wealth of theatric and improvisation experience and knowledge behind them. They are all actors with more than my lifetime of hard work behind this "silly game" they play, and I think we ought to consider that.

[possiblytracker]

courtesy of the enablers in my notes, here is my Flamingo Wisdom gained from the catch today

first of all, a flamingo separated from its flock (as it has to be when you are moving that beast around) is kind of like a horse, in that it will freak the fuck out if a leaf so much as moves in the corner of its eye, and it really really really wants to break its stupid twig legs by any means necessary. and you really cannot let them do this, because they will probably die, but they are stronger than they look and despite their insane 70+yrs captive lifespan they appear pretty fucking determined to spectacularly remove themselves from this mortal coil. if they cannot kill themselves, they will simply attempt to kill something else; if you do not personally clamp their beaks shut using your entire hand they will reach around with their long stupid tube necks and start swinging without hesitation. they bite, and will rip out hair and earrings and whatever else in reach they can get their fucked up beaks on. several of the flamingos were covered in visible blood stains of unknown origin before even picking them up, and half the day was spent wondering if one had been attacked and was doing all this bleeding, but as far as i know nobody ended up finding any which left way more questions than answers

to transport a flamingo is a two-person effort, because they are so long and so desperate to fuck up themselves or whoever is around them that you need at least two sets of hands to pull it off safely. one person holds the flamingo facing backwards tucked under one arm kind of like a set of bagpipes. with the other arm you have to hold both legs apart, because if they are allowed to lash out you get fun accidents like "vet tech pummeled in the balls with full force of both flamingo feet at once, advised to leave premises". you have to hold the legs facing downwards, otherwise the circulation gets cut off, as they are physically incapable of pumping their own blood down there without the effects of gravity. the resulting effect looks kind of like you are holding a guitar wrong, or slow-dancing in a really fucked up way. it is also objectively impossible to place your hands on the bird in a way that you will not get pissed on.

the second person has to stand just behind the first and supervises the head, holding its beak shut as shown and supporting the neck in a comfortable position. some flamingos do not Have a comfortable position and will just spend the entire time wriggling and trying to bite you, which you just kind of have to deal with. you also get direct eye contact with the beast at all times, which is. interesting and unnerving

the only people handling them solo were the vet in charge of weighing the animals, the guy sticking them into the back of a van, and my boss, who stood in the corral chasing groups of them into a smaller pen for catching. every time a pair came to collect their next bird he would open the door to the pen, head in alone, you'd briefly hear the most fucked up cartoon fistfight-esque noises from inside, and about thirty seconds later he would reappear with an entire flamingo tucked casually under one arm like a football and just hand it to you. most baffling part of the entire experience, i think

despite the turbulence however they did make it safely to their new home :)

[cliveguy]

specific yet common type of blogger on here who only seems to care about transmisogyny when it involves dismissing or making fun of trans men... like it's a little transparent to me lol

[power-handmaiden]

Tfw Chuck Tingle writes another book right after u get around to updating ur spreadsheet

[lizzibennet]

so interested in the person who is having a birthday party at 4pm in the neighborhood shared party room (which happens to be two houses up from mine) whose playlist consists of 90’s/00’s pop remixes, forró versions of brazilian mpb, and now is at the “2017-19 explicit funk” bit of their playlist

[jimmerzz0905]

(in the old, creaky voice of a stereotypical grandpa character)

back in my day composer island only had staccato notes, Kayna was exclusive to Tribal Island, and Fleechwurm and Maulch were new

[zanderism]

when my friends ask me if i want to hang out

[heartual]

pictures from oomf in law. omg

[britneyshakespeare]

i found my old yo-yo the other day, like my very first yo-yo that i learned how to yo-yo proficiently with. a green duncan butterfly yo-yo i got for christmas in 2006. it still glides like a dream which is a miracle not just bc of its age but i never replaced the string. and after finding it and using it again it just brought me back to how entrancing it is, the rhythmic comfort of the string and the toy going up and down, the regular wrist motion. it's hypnotic. that's also how it feels after awhile of spamming one person with dozens of boops with my laptop mouse.

[rainbeausobsessions]

Inspired Work: Mass Effect 3, assumes Destruction ending

~~~

Noise.

But faint.

And far away.

Noise.

But not.

Are those words?

Bright.

And then gone.

Bright and then gone.

Bright.

Are those people?

“Stay with us, Shepard!”

Everything was so bright.

“Stay with us!”

Aching.

She couldn't move.

Tired.

She wouldn't move.

“Al!”

The bright was farther away.

And then it was closer.

“Run another diagnostic.”

Then it was farther.

Then closer.

“We don't have any more!”

And then…

Then…

Shoulders shaking, everything shaking, and

“We need to go! Now!”

Falling down and everything hurt and

“Get this shuttle moving!”

And everything was fuzzy and faint and falling far away.

Her head was heavy. She opened her eyes to a blurry world. A volus was next to her, tapping away on a data pad. A bed far away had a purple mass on it. People crowded around it.

“Hush,” the volus said to her, “You need your rest, Commander Shepard. And don't worry about your friend. She's being treated with the best care possible.”

She kept staring. She watched the purple as people stood. She watched the purple as people walked. Purple drew her in. But her heavy head wanted rest. Her eyelids fell, but she opened them. They fell, but she opened them. They fell, and she couldn't open them. She was so tired….

Light glared into her eyes. Across her face she rested her arm.

A click sounded and a breath streamed, “Hello.”

Shielding her eyes, she looked to the one who spoke. There was a volus looking at her.

“How are you feeling?” they asked.

She groaned, “Like I've been hit by a truck.” She tried to sit up, but they gently pressed a hand against her chest and she obediently dropped back into the cot.

“You shouldn't move just yet,” they soothed, “Since you are awake, I have a few questions.”

She didn't answer. They hopped off a stool and waddled to a table. Picking up a datapad, they waddled back and proceeded to yank their body up onto the stool. They adjusted.

“Now, it's alright if you don't know the answers. Let's begin,” they said, “What is your name?”

“Alys,” she said, “Alys Shepard.”

They tapped away on the datapad. They asked about her sex and her species. They asked her to describe her physical appearance. She remembered her freckled white skin, her smoky grey eyes, her vibrant red hair, her tall stature. They asked about her birthplace and date of birth. She remembered the city on Earth, tall towers spiraling next to old, squat buildings.They asked about her career. She remembered joining the Alliance as soon as she could. She remembered Akuze. She remembered joining the SPECTRES to pursue Saren and how he committed suicide, how the Reapers had enslaved the geth, how she had the ordered conserving the Alliance firepower during the attack on the Citadel. She remembered suffocating and waking up with The Illusive Man as her “project manager”. She remembered the Collectors. She remembered the time she spent in custody on Earth. She remembered how Mordin die without a single regret, how Wrex and Bakara stood in triumph, how Tali and the Geth Prime looked each other in the eye with solidarity.

Once she had briefly recounted everything, she was given a small silicone bag full of water. She twisted the top open and drank. The volus kept tapping on the datapad as she closed the pouch and left it on her lap. She asked, “Where am I?”

“You're in a secure bunker on the planet Earth,” they responded. She repeated her question insistently. They said, “I honestly don't know. I'm an anatomist, not a geographer.”

[robinsnest2111]

feeling nostalgic for the small sparks of happiness during my otherwise depression-heavy and bullying-laden and self hating teen years tonight aughh

[supercantaloupe]

happy sleepover saturday!!!!! if you could only ever watch one of these for the rest of your life would it be sexy oklahoma or don giovanni (i think it's. aioux? production? your special one, you know)

also!! here is spitfire & the girls

A CRUEL AND VICIOUS CHOICE. they are like two sides of the same coin to me.... Well considering i am literally watching the latter right now,

also OMG what fantastic beasts!! Girls Night

[ask meme]