More photos of David Tennant in the kilt outfit at tonight's EE BAFTAs.
And David in the suit he wore on the red carpet, which was designed by Joshua Kane. (Plus Georgia in a gold dress!)
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There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.
Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.
“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.
“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”
“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.
He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.
“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.
“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”
“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”
“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”
“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”
“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”
It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.
“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”
Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”
“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.
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my love for foppish fictional men truly knows no bounds
[image description: two drawings focusing on flavio from paper mario: the thousand-year door. the first picture of flavio singing, drawn in a simple, sketchy style. the second drawing is a comic. the first panel shows mario and goombella sitting across from flavio, who has a dreamy expression on his face and is saying, "we shall gather a crew and set off on a journey of romance!". the second panel is of goombella replying by saying "yknow that there are only male sailors in rogueport, right?", with a note below that panel saying "shes a lesbian shes just also homophobic". the third panel is of flavio looking confused, followed by the final panel of flavio in front of a rainbow background as he says "yes? does flavio stutter??". end id]
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not to be so disgusting and gross about gojo on the dash but i think he's such a flirty, teasing idiot that, when you show him genuine and true affection, he goes all somber and quiet.
like you come up to him after dinner and stand on your tip-toes and hug him for no reason, give him a fat kiss on the cheek for no reason, and he just — lets you. doesn't say anything, just kind of hums and lightly places his hands on your hips, so gently you might not even know they're there. you tell him, "i love you, thank you for eating with me," and he presses his mouth to the top of your head, lips squished, and says it back, but there's no jokes, no teasing remarks. he just allows himself to be weak and to bask in it, for as long as he can.
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Haunted car Au part 11
Previous. Masterpost
When Duke woke up, he remembered the fight he had with Bruce last night. All in all, it was actually what Duke wanted to happen in a way. Duke got full access to “fix” the Batmobile, but just the way Bruce made it sound was just… Infuriating. Like, sure, blame the newly 17 year old kid who had only moved the car, not even a hundred feet, for everything wrong with the car. Being benched until he figured out how to get whoever was possessing the car sucked though.
The good news is that the only people who would be awake to bother him or ask unwanted questions would be Alfred and maybe Tim. If Tim got on his case it would be simple to call in Alfred or to threaten him with calling in Alfred. The only other people that use the cave like the front door are Dick and Jason. Both would be up for hiding the issue from Bruce once explained. Dick would be a bleeding heart to a potential meta/alien kid getting stuck because of their powers. Jason would keep the secret just on principle, especially if told Duke got blamed for something he had no hand in. Jason would probably help set the kid up after he gets out of the car too, assuming Bruce doesn't pull a Bruce. It would be nice to not be the only meta in the family though, and the kid would already know about the family, but that would be the kids choice.
After a short breakfast, Duke made his way back down to the cave, only to hear a…Rave?
He made his way through the cave following the muted music to… the car…
“What in every hell are you doing?” Duke could not help to exclaim as he saw the Batmobile, for lack of a better comparison, dancing.
The car was strobing its headlights from the yellow driver's lights, to the brights, to the color changing LEDs Jason and Dick put in for a party prank that Bruce never removed, all to the beat of some techno that had to have been in Tim's Playlist. The car stopped in its perceived dancing to open its door in another mockery of a wave causing the music to become almost deafening as the door opened. Duke had to cover his ears as the kid in the car panicked and set off its alarm before turning everything off. If Duke thought the cacophony before was deafening, the silence after was even more so.
“Seriously, what the hell kid?” Duke said with as much incredulity as he could muster.
The car responded with a slow turning of its front wheels and a quieter sound of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Beiber playing, which could have been from either Dick or Steph’s playlists.
“You know what? I am not going to deal with song names and lyrics to guess from. Give me a second.” Duke went to the Batcomputer and found Tim's folder containing all of the sound bytes and clips that he uses when he gets real malicious with the power points for his team, the JL, or for Bruce when he is being exceptionally pissy, and downloads it onto a large USB stick. It took a little longer than Duke expected, but within an hour the USB was downloading its new playlist into the Batmobile’s radio storage. The sound bytes should be better than songs, right?
“GOOOOOOODDDDDD MOOOOORRRRRRNNNING GOOOOOOOTTTHHHHAAAAAAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!”
“God dammit Tim”
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"Wah the woke gay agenda has gone too far they put gambit in a crop top" first of all I can't believe this is an actual take i saw with my eyes online. he looks incredible cry harder about it
secondly complaining about gay shit (like crop tops??!) in legitimately any iteration of x-men is a complete failure of media comprehension on a truly apocalyptic level
thirdly I want you to take a look at this picture and tell me where you see a single fucking ounce of heterosexuality. Look at this man in a pink breastplate, trenchcoat, thigh high boots and fingerless gloves and tell me where in the room the straightness is hiding:
PLEASE.
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Machete and Vasco are so pomegranate-and-the-hand-that-slices coded. To me.
Pomegranates are seen as messy, bloody, inconvenient fruits. You slice or tear or bite and in return for your effort you come away underwhelmed, disgusted, and stained too deep to wash. The consumption of a pomegranate is a violent act of defilement, for both the fruit and the eater.
But that is because most do not understand how to open a pomegranate. They have little patience for the precise carving. They see no point in coreing the fruit gently, no reason to be reverent as they pull the quarters apart. When done correctly, opening a pomegranate leaves little mess. Your fingers will still stain, your knife will still slick, but there will be no pool of crimson drowning both you and the fruit.
The seeds are only sweet to those who understand the merit of a light hand and intricate slicing. Why put in so much effort for a food so bitter and clearly armored against consumption? Surely it must not yearn to be eaten.
(^insane about silly catholic dogs)
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