#(i cried the day after... but still)

[pkmn-smashorpass]

Tell me your fave and why!!

[psiithirisma]

He is proud of you.

[samanthamulder]

THE X-FILES (1993-2018)

SEASON FOUR — The truth will save you, Scully. I think it'll save both of us.

[the---hermit]

Absolutely love how the professor told me there's a bunch of works i can use as sources for my paper and yet there's almost nothing available through our uni

[horuslupercal]

ok fine but if we DO accept that one of the twins was never lost and stayed in the palace (I don't believe this and I am going to read their novel soon yippee!) what the FUCK is going on between them and horus. there are a few options ranging from very evil to very funny

1) alpharius (/omegon) was completely isolated by the emperor. no one knew. he was a secret entirely. that's sad, man, your son is not a jumping bean you cannot keep him alone in a plastic box

2) everyone just lied to horus constantly. he was the only one who didn't know. idk where your microwave burrito went, kid, I guess it disappeared into thin air. sorry

3) horus knows but is just lying to all of the other primarchs constantly. I find it hard to believe that he'd wholly hide a sibling to the point of hiding the fact that he was already kind of aware before the big reveal but I suppose it's an option

4) horus thought alpharius was his imaginary friend

[sayyourprayers]

The wife ain't happy

Homosexual philanderer looking properly chastised.

[martyrbat]

detective comics #509

[ID: Bruce Wayne sleeping in his penthouse, his eyes squeezed shut as the narration reads, ‘Gordon's strained laugh sounds hollow, but it echos in the Batman's mind... and haunts his dreams...” Bruce awakens to a hand on his shoulder and before he can think, he's twisting it and holding it down. The panel expands, revealing the hand belongs to Alfred as he's almost toppling over! He cries out, “M-master Bruce—my arm!” as Bruce groggily realizes who it is. He lets go at once as Alfred moves to the end of the bed and holds his arm while stammering an apology, “S-sorry, s-sir... Sorry if I startled you.” Bruce looks at him with aghast as he cries out, “My god, Alfred—I almost broke your arm!” Alfred reasons, “You must have been having a nightmare, sir.” as Bruce sits up and puts his face in his hands. He weepily dismisses, “A nightmare—what kind of an excuse is that? Old friend... forgive me...” Alfred reassures, “Nothing to forgive, sir. Just bad nerves, sir.” END ID]

[heresiae]

me, before realizing what was going on and starting the diagnosis process: goddammit! I got distracted again. what's wrong with me!! and why I'm not understanding shit?! the argument is simple. why is everything confusing?

me, after the realization: adhd, behave! we need to hear this. I know this dude is boring, the argument is boring, but we need to make an effort. autism... I know, I know. they're confusing and not following a logical narrative pattern. we'll ask ALL the questions after.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: MARS (PART 2)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Maj. Kaidan Alenko, Lt. James Vega, and Dr. Liara T'Soni With: The Illusive Man and Dr. Eva Coré Your vision is pathetically limited. You were a tool- an agent with a singular purpose. And despite our differences? You were relatively successful. But like the rest of the relics in this place, your time is over. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[definitelynotshouting]

Can I ask, since you mentioned agreeing 'even if under duress' - how did the Watchers convince Player Grian to join them in hunger au?

So take this with the specific grain of salt that ive never watched Evo directly (but have friends who have ((thank you wren)), so i know tidbits via osmosis from them), but my thought has always been that the riddles the Watchers gave the Evo Players were all tests used to measure cleverness and intelligence-- the whole point of them attempting to copy the mind of a Player into a Watcher larva in the first place was to try and avoid the insanely high infant mortality rate their typical juveniles go through, bc they dont understand their own limits enough to even know they have them yet. So they needed a Player they knew they could instruct and who would listen to them, and, well. Grian, for all he was rebellious and outright defiant of the Watchers, still solved their puzzles and only had to be punished once before he stopped trying to mess with them

What ive always pictured is after the dragon fight the two main elders of the Watcher colony finally revealed themselves to Grian properly-- i have this crystal clear image of the two of them hovering above and next to the central end island, looming over Grian, and like, these guys are big. HUGE. A good 5x bigger than the ender dragon itself, at LEAST. It would be hard not to feel insanely intimidated by that, honestly, especially when there are two of them side by side, blocking your entire view of the End from that direction.

Anyway picture that with the context of these two giant floating winged worms youve never seen before, who have demonstrated their powerful ability to manipulate code in a way you cant.... telling you that they have chosen you to become one of them. Thats an immense amount of pressure, both from flattery and fear, especially considering theyve punished you before for defying them. I like to think even then, Grian balked a bit, and while i dont have exact dialogue beats here, i know the Watchers continued putting that pressure on him (likely while leveraging his friendships too-- like ive always said, if Grian hadnt been chosen, BigB wouldve been, and i can absolutely see the Watchers offering to take him in Grian's stead) until he finally caved and accepted their "offer" of joining them.

Unfortunately, he didnt find out exactly what that entailed until it was far too late.

[flownwrong]

out of context Twitch City (2x05)

[disengaged]

i have been diagnosed with “rather severe” fibromyalgia

[welcome-to-green-hills]

What do you usually do on a rainy day?

Hi Hon!❤️✨

As cliché as it is, I really do enjoy reading when it’s raining. That, or something crafty. I’ve just finished reading Karen Armstrong’s book called “A Short History of Myth” and how to interpret mythologies from different cultures. Now I’m reading some books on pirate cultures and Indigenous folklore.

[cowboy-robooty]

me when i read the gay porn genre comics and get mad theres gay porn

[deus-ex-mona]

worming out of awkward conversations l i k e

[i-am-become-a-name]

Prompt - December 4th. Good King Wenceslas.

The wind was howling a lament through the trees above them, but the small hollow they’d tucked themselves into was dry, even if Ace’s hands still ached from the cold. Camping, the Doctor had said. Bloody well camping. Well this was nothing like skiving off with her friends back home, campfires, charring sausages over the fire, being stupid with no adults around to be boring and sensible. 

“C’mon, Professor, can’t we go back yet?” 

“No,” he informed her sternly, and pointed the end of his brolly at the pitiful pile of sticks she had scrounged up, “fire, please. My nose is starting to get a chill.” 

“Yeah, well maybe you can use that to keep the wind off,” she sniped back, and rubbed the sticks together again. Pointlessly. Her hand strayed towards the inner pocket of the jacket, but a pointed cough sent it back down. That would’ve made one hell of a bonfire, she thought mulishly, even if it would’ve blown their shelter sky high. Best place for it, and they could head back to the TARDIS where there was- was there heating? There were blankets anyway, and a kettle for tea.

Something white landed on the sticks in front of her. Then another, and snow was coming thick and fast, and any hope of lighting a fire with these stupid sticks was over. 

“Professor,” she groused, drawing it out, and he relented, propping the brolly behind her and releasing the catch to protect them from the weather. 

“Go on then,” he said, nodding at her pocket, and cast his eyes to the overhanging log that protected them in lieu of the sky as she triumphantly pulled out a lighter and scraps of paper. Old receipts, notes they’d left for each other at various points, handy little firestarters. She screwed them up, tucking them under the sticks, but the Doctor’s hand was lightening fast, snatching a piece back from the brink of destruction to smooth out and tuck back into her pocket. Nope. Mysterious nonsense, she was Not Going to Ask. Survival skills, meet disposable Bic lighter. Hah! At least her hands were warm now, and the brolly was protecting them from the worst of the bitter wind.

“What was the plan next?” and the Doctor screwed up his face. “Campfire songs?” she suggested, grinning. “Stop me if you know this one.” She opened her mouth as if to sing, but was immediately silenced by- pastry? She bit down, and yeah, a croissant. Huh, with chocolate. 

In her distraction, the Doctor had conjured up a cake tray. Tiered and all, like they were having a posh afternoon tea in the middle of the woods in a snowstorm. He hadn’t even brought a bag! Bloody Time Lords. She crossed her eyes, and picked a piece of lint off the end of her croissant. That explained something, she guessed, and her eyes went blurry as she focused back on the Doctor, who was pulling out a teapot so comically out of size compared to his jacket pocket, spout already steaming. 

“An’ yoo ma’muse icks?” she complained through the pastry, ignoring the chiding look at her lack of manners. 

“I won’t always be around to play Prometheus for you, Ace,” and there was a brief old sadness to his voice, before he started patting his pockets, making tutting noises, before he pulled his hat off, and pulled two teacups out of the crown, wiping them out with the end of his scarf. 

He poured hers first, leaning around the side of her cheerily blazing fire to pass it over, and she supposed she could manage without milk or sugar. So long as he passed over one of the muffins off the stand too, and her hopeful eyes bore fruit as he sighed, passing it over balanced on top of his hat. 

There were no sausages, no being silly with her old mates, but when she stretched her legs out to press her boots against the side of the Doctor’s trousers, he didn’t shift away, and it wasn’t too long till dawn when they could get back to the TARDIS. Her jacket clinked reassuringly when she moved, and she hoped she’d be allowed to break camp. Camp would go flying, she promised, as a stray snowflake caught the back of her neck.