#gorrammit

[kobbers]

(criticism for the Mass Effect and Horizon series below the cut; slightly rambly)

.

I sometimes like to indulge in media analysis video essays while working on art, because it can help corral my brain when I need to focus for lengthy chunks of time.

An interesting one I watched a couple months ago proposed that many of the problems people complain about in ME3 actually started in ME2, and I found myself nodding along with most of it. The discussed problems weren’t even ones I’d never recognized before in ME2; it was just a little eye-opening to have someone focus on them and tie it all together into a “compare with ME3, contrast with ME1″ kinda way.

What I didn’t expect, however, was my brain continually pinging on how Forbidden West exhibits many of these very same flaws, the primary one being a willingness to sacrifice consistency with pre-established rules and tone in order to solve short-term problems or engineer a dramatic moment. I wonder how much of this (in both cases) can be attributed to Corporate Daddy rolling up to the new successful IP and worrying too hard about drawing in and wowing new customers.

This comparison flared up again during another video I watched just this week, where the author argues Legion and the geth were done dirty in ME3 - pointing out where the stated character motivations and logic quietly did a 180 under the hood. and where some slight retconning robbed the geth-quarian conflict of some complexity. It was like the writers that handled the character in 3 didn’t properly understand what had been established, and couldn’t commit to the alien thinking... yet we know it’s not a simple case of Writer Bad because there are beloved characters that these same folks did do well! It ended with a little side helping of Higher-Ups Mandating Nonsensical Things Because They Are Awesome).

And I just... man. Too familiar.

I hope Horizon 3 can get itself back together on this front, but so much damage has been done already. =_=

[wheresjonno2023-complete]

how come he's getting better while mad?

Several possible answers:

All fevers pass eventually

At the moment some of his other options include unknowingly turning into a vampire, knowingly turned into a vampire, and trapped in a missing Doctor Who episode from the 60s. I had to cut the boy a break

Maybe he's not. Maybe he's dead

If you've been following option 8 from the beginning, you'll see that on July 8th it changed from convalescing/adopted to "Finally secure enough to go mad with Brain Fever." He's being taken care of by someone or other

He's been mad with Brain Fever for nearly two weeks. Isn't that enough? I think it's enough. At this point if he doesn't start getting better his brain will be the texture of runny gelato.

Spa Day

Since the "getting better option" started on July 22nd, the same as the end of the Lord Ruthven are, the implication is that hitting one vampire with a shovel gave him Brain Fever and hitting a second vampire with a shovel cured it

Maybe he started getting better because he heard there were going to be Mina entries coming up

All that Gothic Heroine Support is really paying off

..........gorrammit this shoulda been a poll

Hang on gonna reorder them a bit so that they match the standard entries of the rest of the polls

And if none of these seem reasonable... don't pick option 8. Running due west in a straight line without stopping for 3+ weeks doesn't really seem like something someone without Brain Fever would do, tbh. He's also mad in option 4 based on the psychiatric evaluation he received on July 13th. I mean Yeti in the Underground? Really??

[exvangelical-christian-nerd]

Shoulder Buddies: Introduction pt. 2

TW relationship drama and discussion of sex.

Natalie (She/her)

Disclaimer (doubles as the master post)

“Really this is how we're starting our morning, again?” grumbled someone right in my ear.

“Good morning to you too, Lute.” I muttered.

“Jill’s door is closed, at least.” Charlie said from my other shoulder.

“At least if Crowley got ‘im, we wouldn’t keep having to chase the furry attention whore around all the time.” Lute grumbled

How is this my angel? I wondered, although I too was tired of chasing Peep around, but feeding him to my ex’s ball python seemed more than a little extreme.

“Seriously? Fuck you, Lute!” Charlie shouted at her, her horns showing up for half a second. Apparently she was a little on edge this morning. I made a mental note to check on her when I had a moment.

 “Enough you two.” I scolded, kneeling  down and looking under the couch.

I could see Tracey’s lavender hair almost directly across from me on the other side of the couch.

Man, is it dirty under here. Who’s turn is it to vacuu- or right, mine. It took me a minute to find him. It didn’t help that he kinda blended in, with his white back half almost looking like the dust bunnies, I needed to vacuum up, and his black front half blending in with the shadow. But I finally found the rascal. I thought that might just be able to reach his long pink tail. I made a grab for it.

He ran out from under the couch, and into my room.

“Dang it.” I shouted.

Charlie and Lute both made similar, although more colorful, exclamations.

“Gosh fucking dang it. You stupid rat.” Tracey practically growled, as they stood up.

We had just made it to the door when my pure cat, Azi, came out carrying a squirming Peep in her mouth like he was a naughty kitten, which I think is what she thinks he is. She padded over to Tracey, gave them a very unimpressed look, and dropped Peep at their feet.

Trace scooped up their rat up before he had a chance to run again. “Bad rat. Very, very naughty. You’re gonna give Mommy a heart attack. You know that? Gorrammit, you dumb ass rat.” Tracey chastised him, all the way back to their room.

Azi rubbed up against my legs, meowing.

I squatted down and pet her. “You're a good girl, aren't you? Such a good girl.”

“A very good girl.” Charlie agreed, jumping on Azi’s head and scratching her behind the ears. Charlie’s red suit made Azi’s already bright white fur, somehow, seem even whiter.

She purred as we pet her.

A moment later I stood up,  “Time for breakfast, Azi Razzi.” She padded behind me as I walked to the kitchen. Charlie, rode on Azi’s head. I pulled the cat food out of the cupboard under the sink, poured some in Azi’s bowl, and then finally set it on the pet food mat, next to the refrigerator. I checked to make sure the water bowl was still sufficiently full. It was. Then I washed my hands and got back to making breakfast for us humans.

“Charlie, are you doing okay?” I asked my demon, who was standing on Azi’s back, knee deep in white fur.

Charlie laughed in a very not okay way. “Not really.”

“No shit.” Lute said.

“Lute,” I said, “Shut up.”

“Charlie, what going on?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”

“Charlie-”

“It’s no big deal. Just a little blip. It’ll be fine.”

“Sure it will.” Lute taunted. “Her girlfriend lied to her.” Lute whispered.

Charlie is dating Robin’s shoulder angel Vaggie.

“Fuck you, Lute!” Charlie’s horns came out again.

“Okay, okay.” I interrupted, “Lute, she’s right, this doesn’t concern you.” I turned to Charlie, “Do you wanna talk?”

“Not yet.”

“Fair enough.” I poured the first pancake on the skillet.

Tracey, now dressed in their work uniform, a red and blue striped shirt and jeans, came back out of their room right about then. Emily had gotten her feathers in order too.

I heard Jill’s alarm go off.

I finished pouring the first batch. “Trace can you get the syrup and such on the table?” I have four skillets I use. The two big ones can fit two, or sometimes three pancakes, the others can fit one (I usually make about 3 batches).

“Sure.” Tracey answered

Charlie was quiet.

Emily suddenly appeared on my shoulder and gave Charlie a hug.

About midway through the second batch, I heard Jill’s door open.

“Morning, Jill.” I said, glancing up.

Stu, Jill’s mobility dog, was opening zier door.

Jill followed him, using zier crutches. “Morning, Nat.”

“Steph, still here?”

Jill’s face went red as a strawberry, as did the face of zier angel, Sir Pentious. “You heard us?”

“Yes.”

I saw Sir Pentious pull his hat down over his face.

“We both did. ” Tracey said.

Jill’s face went an even deeper red.

“I think the whole apartment complex did.” Lute muttered

I could sugge-” I heard Fizz start to say, right before Emily suddenly appeared behind him and clamped her hands over his mouth.

Jill didn't hear them.  Jill can only see and hear zier own shoulder buddies, which is more than most people can do. It’s kinda sad really.

But Sir Pentious heard Fizz and Lute. He flared his hood for a second, then coiled up so tight he was almost a perfect sphere.

Jill’s shoulder devil, Cherri Bomb, rolled her eyes, “Whatever, loser,” she said giving me an exasperated look. “Though I don't see how you think you can judge, as I recall you're not exactly quiet yourself.

 My face suddenly felt very hot.

Jill’s face went even redder.

Tracey turned and walked quickly back to their room. Smart choice.

I turned my focus back on breakfast, “You could’ve invited her to stay for breakfast.” I said, “After all you’re dating not hooking up.”

“Nat!” Charlie exclaimed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lute smirking.

“You just said you were mad I had her over.”

“First off, I did not say that.”

“You kinda did.” Lute snorted.

I ignored her, “I just said I could hear you.  Secondly, I’m still friends with both your dumb asses and, we‘ve been over this before, I don’t care that you’re dating, Steph. However, I don’t know many people who want to hear other people’s… activities, and I’ve dated, and slept, with you both, so it’s doubly awkward.” I flipped the pancakes.

“Prude.” Cherri scoffed.

“How am I being a prude?” I practically shouted back.

Jill jumped and zier blue eye’s got big. Ze knows I can see zier buddies, but I’m not usually this open about it with zier, because ze finds it a bit off putting.

“I am not into voyeurism, Cherri.” I continued, “And I don’t think not wanting to hear my exes bang each other is unreasonable.”

“We’ll try to be quieter going forward.”

“Thank you. That's all I'm asking.”

Cherri rolled her eyes and flipped me off.

Lute returned the gesture.

Charlie looked like she wanted to die, which was kinda how I felt too.

Their was an awkward silence, as Jill came into the kitchen and fed Stu.

“I’ll tell Tracey it's safe to come out now.” Using zier crutches Jill went over and knocked on Tracey’s door. “Coast is clear.” Ze joked, laughing awkwardly.

Part 1

[doctoraxiom]

"you're a nice lady"

gorrammit I'm trying to be masc today aaaaugh

[thunderheadfred]

Me: (Makes Edgeworth bond almost instantly with Trucy)

MIles Dadworth: what is this feeling... is this... happiness

Also me: oh I forgot to tell you Miles, you can’t move back to Los Angeles for at least six more years ha ha 

[ashinan]

so listen there is only one type of sheith I write and it’s apparently soft af and that is my default I apologize for nothing enjoy these goobers being sweet and sappy with each other oh also there is mild nakedness but its in the context of exhausted cuddling. if you want a song try this one because I am a sucker and everyone should have this song on their sheith playlist okay enjoy

diamond in the dust

Jerking Black to the side, Shiro dodges a shot from the largest ship, wincing when it grazes Black’s flank. She groans her fatigue through the bond. They’ve formed and disbanded Voltron so many times throughout the course of this fight that Shiro’s shaking from exhaustion himself, both mental and physical. His left wrist quakes, palm sweating and sore in his glove as he yanks on the controls. Black spins.

They’d run into the fleet on accident. The surprise had been double sided, though the Galra fleet had numbers on their side and had pummelled the Castle while the Lions were still waking up. There seems no end to their continuous onslaught, more battlecruisers warping in to replace each one that Voltron slew. It’s slowly spiralling out of control.

Shiro exhales sharply. The fleet fans out beneath him in vicious purple stars. Weaving throughout are various forms of light: blue and yellow and green spinning, spinning. Red is a sturdy and telltale streak. Explosions are quickly strangled by space as the lights dart through the fleet. There’s too many. They don’t have the energy to continue like this.

A quiet trill as Black nudges at his thoughts, directing him to the control screens. They light up, a series of equations and formulas that end in salvation, in furious destruction. Shiro laughs, bares his teeth in satisfaction, and punches in the codes. Black roars.

“Everyone, scatter!” Shiro shouts. The lights below shoot off in different directions as Black’s wings flare wide. The groan of metal shifting rings throughout the cockpit. The fleet turns as one toward Black. The bond thrums with excitement, with vicious glee as Black rears back and the equation completes. A barrage of missiles fire from the slots in Black’s chest, spirals of purple light wreathed in blue-white flame.

The fleet breaks beneath the onslaught.

Black’s wings flare wider, brighter, a brilliant star that the other Lions circle back toward. Shiro punches forward. The barrage becomes a cleaving axe, blowing ships into stardust as Black sweeps over the entirety of the fleet. The largest ship gains the highest concentration, fracturing with spiderweb delicacy before crumpling like a discarded ball of paper. The force of the outward explosion rocks through Black, through Shiro, and the sting of metal catches on the back of his tongue. He snarls. Black roars.

The rest of the fleet backpedals, desperate to regroup and reorient. The Lions shoot by Shiro, flying directly into the onslaught and corralling the stragglers. At Shiro’s command, they scatter again, the fleet bowing beneath the pressure. With one final flare of Black’s wings, the barrage tampers off. The rest of the Paladins dart in for clean up as Black droops. Her exhaustion amplifies Shiro’s own.

“Thanks,” Shiro says, unclenching his fingers around the controls with a groan. Pain alights in his left wrist. Black thrums worriedly against his thoughts, curious despite Shiro’s reluctance, and Shiro allows her to poke at the pain flicking hot and fast up his arm. She soothes it with a purr, and Shiro smiles.

The last straggler of the impressive fleet is destroyed by Yellow, barreling into it full force. Shiro sags in his seat, massaging at his wrist carefully. Exhaustion prickles hot at his temples. There’s a quiet throb against his right hip, when Black had been thrown into the side of a ship and pinned for a hot minute before Keith and Pidge had freed him. Black nudges against his thoughts again, a quiet purr, and Shiro directs her back toward the castle ship.

“Good job, everyone,” Shiro says, straightening his spine when the video feeds pick up. Everyone is in various states of exhaustion, sweating and shaking and smiling with adrenaline. Lance stretches tall, fingers reaching up and away. Pidge swipes lazily at something off screen. Hunk bows forward until only his forehead is visible, the shine of his helmet reflecting in the screen.

Keith beams. His cheeks flush, gaze bright with a burning intensity mimicked by his Lion. Sweat curls the hair around his eyes. He’s beautiful like this, basking in his element, delight clear in the tremble of his jaw. Shiro winks. Keith laughs, a gut-punch bark of sound.

“That rocket barrage was so cool!” Lance crows, gesturing widely. “New move?”

Shiro chuckles, tired and pleased. “New move. Black was getting irritated.”

“Irritation equals new shit? That’s unfair. Why is it I have to go on a life changing experience with Green to have her give me neat stuff?” Pidge asks, rubbing at her chin. The Green Lion sways out the window. “Yeah, yeah, it’s all about learning and growing; your speeches are getting old, girl.”

“I could sleep for a good ten years.” Hunk pops up properly on camera, jaw cracking as he yawns.

Shiro nods, firmly clenching his teeth to stop from following Hunk’s example. “We all deserve a good rest.”  

Black perks up at the mention of rest, increasing the force of her thrusters until she’s barrelling toward the Castle. Shiro leans back. The other Lions follow suit, chasing Black’s tail the entire way. To Black’s right, Red floats lazily, keeping pace but not joining in on her sister’s fun. Smiling, Shiro closes his eyes.  

The briefing is short, thankfully, Allura equally exhausted from providing support. Shiro stifles a yawn behind his hand, tears catching in the corners of his eyes as he stumbles his way back to his room. Keith had departed early with the others, hopefully to get some rest. Bed sounds amazing. Granted, so does a shower.

Rolling his shoulders, Shiro groans. He’s sore all over; hell, even his toes are cramping. He slaps a hand against his room’s panel, dragging his feet over the threshold. The blankets from this morning are still draped half way across the floor. The soft hum of the shower echoes through the room and Shiro pauses. Keith’s armour sits in a pile beside the dresser, his undersuit collapsed over the entrance to the bathroom and halting the door’s natural closing feature.

Dragging a hand over his face, Shiro plucks at his armour, frustrated that he can’t just will it off. He trips his way over to the bathroom, shedding the chest armour and the bracers, dropping the belt to the floor, and struggling with his thigh plating. He nearly brains himself yanking off his boots, but catches himself on the frame. Keith’s just inside, scrubbing his hands through his hair while the shower heats up. Shiro leans against the door and yawns at him.

“Come on, then,” Keith says, holding out a hand. Shiro slips in and drops his forehead against Keith’s bare shoulder, spreading one palm over Keith’s belly and the other against the dip of his spine. Keith turns his head to brush a kiss against Shiro’s hair. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Don’t wanna,” Shiro murmurs, rolling his nose against Keith’s arm. Slim fingers slide up Shiro’s spine and he hums into it, arching back into the touch. Keith snorts. With a deft flick of his wrist, he taps the series of locking mechanisms on the back of the suit, its confines releasing. Shiro gusts out a moan and rolls his shoulders. A chill passes over his skin and he cuddles Keith closer, rubbing his cheek against a bony shoulder.

“Stop that.” Keith peels Shiro off of him, assisting with getting the arms of the suit down Shiro’s biceps and over his grabby hands, shoving the entire thing to Shiro’s waist. Water thrums over the tiles, a soft pitter-patter reminiscent of rain. Shiro peels off the last of his undersuit with a groan. Keith runs a palm over his waist, along the dots of his spine, and Shiro sways into the touch. A soft edge bruises Keith’s eyes, his smile exhausted but pleased. Shiro reaches for Keith’s hand. Keith slips into the shower.

“No fair,” Shiro whines. Laughter blotted by water mocks his pout. Folding the suit into some semblance of order, Shiro drops it on the sink and stumbles his way inside.

Water splashes up and over his ankles as he wrenches the glass closed. Keith’s fingers dance along his waist, fanning over his shoulder blades, and dig sharp into the tense muscle there. A happy moan rumbles out of Shiro’s chest as he drops his head forward. Keith brushes a kiss against the knobs of Shiro’s spine, thumbs working against a particularly stubborn knot. Shiro rocks forward, hair brushing glass. Everything is hazy. Exhaustion bumps up against overlapping soreness and Shiro sighs when Keith tugs at him.  

Turning is an endeavour, Shiro yelping as water finally splashes onto the rest of him. It’s boiling, nearly too much, but Keith just taps him on the nose and draws him further in. As it rains down over his shoulders, hot, nearly too hot, Shiro closes his eyes in barely restrained bliss.

“You’re so easy,” Keith whispers, laughing when Shiro squints at him. A palm spreads over Shiro’s belly, fingers curious against warming skin, and Shiro catches Keith’s wrist, raises his knuckles up until Shiro can press a quick kiss against them. Keith’s smile crinkles the edges of his exhaustion, blots away the smudges under his eyes. He reaches up and Shiro bows to meet him.

Keith’s mouth is warm, just like the rest of him. Shiro hums, keeping the kiss soft, exploratory. Keith pulls on his fringe. Laughing, Shiro presses his smile to Keith’s bottom lip, pulls back and brushes it against Keith’s forehead. They sway together, water raining around them, until Shiro’s vision fuzzes.

“Come here,” Keith says, palms sliding along Shiro’s shoulders and tugging. With clumsy grace, Shiro drops forward until his forehead slides against Keith’s shoulder, his nose brushing along a thrumming pulse. Keith massages the back of Shiro’s neck, fingers warm and steady, blissfully certain as they catch and work out the tightness clinging stubbornly beneath Shiro’s skin.

It’s euphoric, but muted, as though Shiro views it through tinted glass. His exhaustion is absolute, tugging at the fragility of consciousness with all the vicious certainty of a clear victory. He mumbles Keith’s name, kisses it into Keith’s skin even as Keith works lather into his hair. He brushes sleepy hands over Keith’s waist, the arch of his spine, the swell of his ass. Keith flicks him on the ear for that. Shiro burrows closer, safe in the knowledge that Keith will hold him upright. Suds slip heavy down his spine as Keith pulls back, baring Shiro to the spray.

Protesting, Shiro clings even as the water runs clear. Keith keeps up his ministrations, cradling the back of Shiro’s neck as he washes his own hair. Shiro squints against the soapy spray. They remain like that, twisted together until Keith runs both palms down Shiro’s spine and pinches his side.

“No,” Shiro grumbles, tugging Keith close until he’s forced to arch to maintain the contact.

Keith huffs another laugh, soft, easy. “I’m not drowning in here with you. You can cuddle me all you want in bed.”

Ducking in quick, Shiro blows a raspberry against Keith’s throat before stepping away. Keith gasps, a half strangled shriek, before barking out Shiro’s name in disbelief. Tripping his way out of the shower, Shiro gropes for a towel, tossing one in Keith’s face to stop him from chewing Shiro out. Surprise is a better look on Keith than exhaustion, so Shiro pads dripping wet out into the bedroom, grinning at Keith’s scolding ‘Shiro!’ that follows.

He doesn’t make it to the bed. Keith slings a towel around Shiro’s waist, hauling him back. They stumble together, shaky limbs and exhaustion tripping up their usual grace. Shiro catches Keith’s bicep; Keith smacks a hand against Shiro’s hip; they go down in a pile on the clean, dry sheets.

“You get the wet side,” Shiro says immediately. Keith’s head pops up from near Shiro’s hip, indignation swiftly shifting to determination. They roll across the bed, Shiro scrambling when Keith shoves him right into the wet spot. He catches Keith around the ribs, yanks him back and over, and Keith goes down with a barely restrained yell.

“I thought you were tired!” Keith says, muffled partially by the pillows as Shiro bats his hands away and flops down on top of him.

Spreading his palms over Keith’s stomach, Shiro ducks himself beneath Keith’s chin. “I can still play dirty when I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith grouses, fingers combing through the wet mess of Shiro’s hair. Keith squirms to get comfortable and Shiro cradles his hip, running a thumb over the thin skin along bone. Keith calls for the lights to dim, not enough to plunge them into darkness, but to merge the haziness of Shiro’s vision with the electronic fabrication of twilight.

The burn of fatigue mixed with the warmth of the shower and Keith’s body tugs at Shiro’s senses. Tucking his nose into the hollow of Keith’s throat, Shiro relaxes. Every exhale brings him another layer of relaxation, his thoughts fuzzing and his eyes drooping. Keith’s nails scratch gently against the grain of Shiro’s hair. Murmuring Keith’s name, Shiro snuggles in close and presses an exhausted kiss to Keith’s collarbone.

Shiro drops into sleep, warm and content, Keith’s heart thrumming against his ear.

Come yell at me about sheith or send me cute prompts I am desperate

[raisingcain-onceagain]

*sigh*

So the owner of the one company just called me sighing about how I completed this deliverable incorrectly and she would ask me to redo it but i’m not answering my phone guilty as charged, I let it ring when I saw it was her because her calls always go like this and so she won’t be able to pay me the full price and please call her if I get this at 8:30 at night, mind you

The thing is - I completed the document that way because that’s what she told me to do the last time that call was at 10:00 at night a few months ago. Except, now she’s telling me I may need to edit this kind of document each time. 

So, I asked now when returning her call because I am a Mature Adult no matter what my parents would have you believe, which of the two ways would she prefer moving forward? She is paying me, after all, and I prefer to do things correctly the first time. 

Well, she said. It depends. Sometimes she goes over such documents and edits them eight times, it’s all a matter of knowing what to do or something like that, I was rolling my eyes so hard my ears short-circuited

*sighs*

[greyeyedgriffin]

//while I’ve been recovering from the plague, I got to catch up on a lot of Critical Role with Das Husbando.

Until I complete a DIFFERENT CR cosplay, I’m gonna go to cosplay gatherings as Matt Mercer. My hair is practically perfect for it. I’ve got the DM’s guide and some dice. Throw on a geeky shirt and some leather wraps, I’m done. ^_^

[haberdashing]

...is it weird that the Christmas songs I have the most nostalgia for are the ones on the South Park Christmas CD?

[callmebliss-got-swamped]

Sitting on the couch watching some early season SPN just cuz and Daughterchild slopes in.

“Hey - can I get another binder?”*

“…yes. Have you done research, is there a particular one you want, or a company?”

“Yeah, uh, gc2b? Or also Underworks maybe?”

“Okay, cool, I’ve heard of both of those and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard good things. What about sizing?”

“Uhhhh….”

“I can check the sites for how to do it. I can also reach out to some trans mass folks for suggestions and recommendations if you want?”

“Uh, yeah! That would be great, please.” ::thumbs up::

“OK cool!”

Soooooo hey tumblriners, talk to me about binders and appropriate accurate sizing techniques both for comfort and allowing for a growing changing body. DC is almost 15, not small-busted, and also is a POC so any info on not only how to acquire a binder that will work for them and not become a problem to their health as they develop and ideally also is not merely caucasial coloration in fabric that would be…actually, that is fucking required, gorrammit.

Please, help me do right by my amazing Bonus Child. How do we measure properly. What’s good. What do we avoid at all costs.

They’re still learning who they are but all the tags I’m throwing on this post roughly fit them rn. It’s a process…the Becoming.

* a friend gave them a binder a year and a half two years ago. DC has been taking care of it but things wear out and also teens grow.

[jenniferrpovey]

I saw you put gorrammit on a post and I was just wondering if you got that from firefly or something else, or if you just have always said it. thanks. : )

Always said it, although I did watch Firefly.

[scarletmeer]

I wish everyone who wastes their time trying to kill ghasts with deflected fireballs a very, “get a power four bow gorrammit it’s so much more efficient”

[wheresjonno2023-complete]

So Jonno's changed from a crab into a frog now, huh?

This is how I learn I reblogged to the wrong blog again gorrammit

[bioticgoddess]

Finally...

Got Disney+, well access to it, and watched the Mandalorian. I have a couple “complaints” (really only one is)...

1. Dammit Disney how soft did you record/upload the dialogue?!? My hearing is fine and my computer and the web-player were dialed up to full volume with subtitles on and I still couldn’t hear jack squat. At least on Netflix, Hulu, and YouTube it’s a 50-50 chance something was uploaded with a lower volume than normal and usually I can have my computer at a reasonable volume withOUT subtitles on and be able to hear what people are saying. Good grief... 

2. Having RP’d a Mando for years in SWOTR and being way more familiar with Legends and Extended Universe Mandalorian lore than I can to admit, I don’t think the creed to never remove the helmet was necessary. They’re Mandalorians - Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries of LEGEND. The armor combined with whatever clan name and their reputations are enough. But I dig it, especially if the Tribe are the remnants of Death Watch. So that’s more a “wtf? no. but...I guess?” thing than a proper complaint...

3. This is the last one....Gorrammit now I have another “Space Husband”... oh boy...

[fierceawakening]

Gorrammit I KNOW I made a Color Alignments Of Villainfam post SOMEWHERE

But now that I am going back and tagging my old meta it is nowhere to be found

Aaaaaaaa

[ashinan]

...listen I adore all Hunk ships but I’m falling into the Hunk/Matt mindset SUPER HARD and its...where am I what is happening someone take this show away from me there is so much ship material I want to DIE