#sorry for the complaining again

[skyward-floored]

Aaaaaand it’s not the battery like we thought might’ve been the problem with my car so now I’m going to have to actually take it somewhere to figure out what’s wrong with it and it’ll probably be expensive and I’ll have to decide whether it’s even worth it to keep the thing or try and find another car and then I’ll have to deal with that and

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hate when the tags are full of like those “𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰” two sentence ass posts followed by the most random list of unrelated characters AND THEN. AT THE END. they say “ + your fav!” YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW MY FAV!!!! what if his hands are short and warm and unsexy. or what if he doesn’t even have hands to begin with

[bookinit02]

i really miss when we got consistent plot points on this show that Affected each other and actually led to the next plot point in a logical way. do you guys understand how absolutely ridiculous and non-justifiable it is that denny ALMOST DIED. and it was not mentioned ONCE after that moment. not even as a throwaway line. like at this point you can almost forget that even happened bc it was so carelessly treated. ten minutes of shock value and nothing else. the way it’s not even clear if they’ll bring up this newest trauma for maddie as something that matters at all outside the context of these two episodes. will it impact anything? who knows! what’s going on with bobby and athena’s house? harry? may? wasn’t there a cartel at some point? like genuinely i can barely name the last 10 plot points on this show because they just throw them at us so fast and then pretend like they never happened. nearly every episode exists in a vacuum at this point. and it is so FRUSTRATING

[icharchivist]

The thing that keeps killing me about the Veil discourse and the fact Solas was planning on destroying the world by removing the Veil is that, especially after Veilguard, we have the confirmation that inaction would have been worse.

It's made very clear in DAI and Trespasser especially that the Veil is failing. It's becoming thinner in thinner. Each Blight's bloodshed are so terrible that some places have a Veil that never recovered. There are already hole in the veil in DAO for the Warden to try to fix in places where the Veil has been torn into pieces (Soldier's Peak and the Blackmarshes especially). And Arlathan and Sundermont where also regions that were said to have had the Veil permanently sundered because of the terrible horrors that happened then.

Solas acts panicked when he learns the Wardens are trying to kill the last archdemons saying it will make the situation worse, and for years I argued that the archdemons are probably seals that held the Veil in place and if all of them were killed, it will collapse. At the time i thought it was an elaborated plan by the Evanuris - i didn't think there was a bond between them unless it was true the Old Gods were the Forgotten ones, but that by using the Blight from the Fade the Evanuris were trying to affect those seals to thin the Veil and either a Blight will punch a hole in it, or once all the archdemons will be dead they will be freed.

This isn't the conclusion Veilguard took but i still had a point where it mattered the most: The Archdemons' lives were tied to [the Evanuris who's lives were tied to] the Veil and if all of them died [and killed the Evanuris linked to them by doing so while separated from their respective Evanuris, as evidenced by there being only 2 Evanuris left in Veilguard], the Veil would collapse.

When Solas awoke, it was barely ten years after the 5th Blight. He didn't even know until then that the Blight had leaked from the the prison he had made.

Corypheus acted up on the Wardens' mind BEFORE Solas got involved with him. We know that from Legacy since it's when it started for Corypheus (and Solas supposedly awoke a bit before Mark of the Assassin according to the webseries Redemption).

Corypheus was affected by the Blight he got from the Evanuris, and wanted to do anything he could to tear down the Veil to get to the Black City.

If Solas hadn't offered his orb to Corypheus, if he had stayed in slumber even, The Wardens may have killed the two last archdemons in panic. Or, and that even if Solas gave up on his goal in Inquisition, eventually centuries down the line the two last blights would have happened and the Veil would have collapsed.

There is no scenario in which Solas doesn't get involved that doesn't end with "The Veil falls down and the Blight locked in the Fade is unleashed on Thedas".

Solas' plan is specifically to take down the Veil in a way that doesn't unleash the Blight and the Last of the Evanuris. He will try to salvage as much as he can doing so but that's the core of it.

Leaving aside all the others dilemma about the People, about the Spirits, about Slavery, about everything that has motivated Solas on top of it all: IF Solas didn't act, the Veil would have collapsed on its own and the world would have ended in a way worse way.

We can debate forever about how deadly Solas' plan would have actually been. In Veilguard he says a few thousands of people would have died because he took precaution. I still believe one of the major reasons people would have died are tied to the way Curing Tranquility Also Leave People Who Were Tranquil In a Vulnerable State That Easily Get Them Killed and it would have been the same for people to reconnect so deeply to the Fade (re why Solas asks Cassandra if she thinks it's worth it to still cure the Tranquils and why it mattered).

We can also argue whether this was the only possible thing that could be done.

But like one thing is certain: even if Solas killed absolutely everyone except the elves by collapsing the Veil, it would still be less damage than if the Veil just collapsed on its own. Which would have happened sooner than later. It wasn't an IF. it was an WHEN.

The "Elven God's blood can keep the Veil up and fully repair it" was a full cope out that makes genuinely No Sense (they were NEVER gods to start with, and personally the reason i liked the Archdemons to be the seals more than the Evanuris was bc of what Yavana says in the comics about the dragons being the blood of the world, something much, much bigger than the elves ever were) just to punish Solas anyway.

But the fact people still act like Solas taking down the Veil was him planning the End of the World and It's Bad are just not interrogating themselves on what the Veil is doing.

It was either a controlled apocalypse that will avoid as much damage as possible, or one that will happen at random and will leave no possible chances of salvation.

Just letting the world end by inaction isn't exactly any better than trying to do something.

It's somehow the same logic as Rook and Varric never being blamed for unleashing the final blights. Accidentally triggering the end of the world, or just knowingly letting it happen are fine, but trying to actually do control damage is bad actually.

The Alternative should have been to find another path. One Solas was too prideful, too blind to newer ways, too isolated to have considered himself. One that could remove the Veil without this amount of destruction. Not to reinforce the Veil all together.

And i just think it's unfair to look at Solas plan of destroying the world as the basis to judge he's a bad person without ACKNOWLEDGING what the options actually are. Not even in term to defend Solas, but in term of, do you understand what's at stake????

[halfmoonstruck]

accumulated enough abandoned wips to dump them in a post again

[getthembees]

see my thing with batfam fanfiction is i really don’t care that much if cass isn’t involved. sometimes the story someone wants to tell doesn’t involve her, or the cast is becoming too bloated, or she would solve the plot and they can’t figure out how to write around it. whatever. i get it. it’s fanfiction and you’re writing for fun and sometimes you don’t want to write out all the logistics about why cass isn’t there or xyz (although i wish her being in hong kong wasn’t the constant excuse esp when the timeline doesn’t match up). my real problem is when i’m reading a fic and cass actually has a role to play in it and she’s just wildly wildly out of character. Just the same borrowed fanon one dimensional characterization that gets passed around everywhere. I would rather you not include her at that point, if all you know is her watered down fanfic counterparts. Like what’s the point? If you don’t know a lot about the character… why even bother writing her? isn’t that harder for you?

My main frustration is also that cass is probably one of if not the easiest batfam character to start reading. part of that is thanks to stupid Dan Didio for character assassinating her and then shelving her for years but literally you just have to read Batgirl 2000 and you’re pretty much set. It’s one solo comic. It’s also a good solo comic. I’m literally begging you guys to read Batgirl 2000

[jinikaris]

hyunlix skz-talker moments ♡ 7 // ∞

↪ (go!) season five, episode six

[camellcat]

"cordelia could you please drive me home?" "of course" OF COURSE she replies to buffy, softly, without hesitation. even if she goes right back to harping on about the world ending, of course she'll help buffy. head in my fucking hands

[leenfiend]

what’s ur type first < prev next > full comic

[lunarfuneral]

Kingdon + things you said when you were drunk :))

read on ao3 or below :)

Mel didn’t love Lawrenceville. 

Especially not on a Friday night. The streets swell with people and noise bubbles over from every bar and restaurant along Butler. From the river, the breeze sweeps through, at least helping to cool the late summer air.

But Trinity had asked, and asked, and then pleaded. “But it’s emo night,” she’d whined, paired with her best puppy dog eyes. “We need more people! Samira’s going, Huckleberry … we still have to celebrate when I held a heart in my hands on our first day, remember?” 

That was only two weeks ago, and she felt like Trinity had been playing a game even in the short amount of time that had passed—who could get Mel out to the bars? But she does want to make friends, so she’d agreed, much to Trinity’s delight.

“Yes! Mel’s coming to Belvedere’s! Oh my god, Melvedere's,” she’d cheered, laughter loud in the break room. 

Belvedere’s is packed. She’s only been there a few times before, a music night here and there, karaoke once with some girls from college. Trinity heads straight for the bar, taking everyone’s order and insisting the first round’s on her. Mel holds off on drinks until they’ve already found a good spot in the room with the pool tables and danced to a few songs. Samira lets Trinity twirl her around to Fall Out Boy while Mel heads to the bar and orders one of the only things she didn’t hate the taste of.

She's only the one green tea shot in when she spots him at a table near the end of the bar, head hung low.

He's wearing a white shirt and dark pants. She can't believe he's here. She'd looked for him again at the end of their first shift together to say goodbye, but he was nowhere to be found. Just like the next shift. Then the next. When she asked, all they'd tell her was that he'd be taking an extended leave of absence. Everyone around her was tight-lipped, no matter who—or how many times—she asked.

She guesses it's true what they say: Pittsburgh's a small city, even if it doesn't seem like it. You never know who you'll run into. 

"Oh! Dr. Langdon!" She makes her way through the throng, brushing against the people waiting in line for the bar. There's two empty chairs next to him at the table, each with a beer standing unattended. He's facing away from her, looking down into his half empty glass. 

"Dr. Langdon?" she tries to repeat gently, but he still can't hear her over the DJ and drunken crowd singing along. She gets closer, taps on his shoulder lightly, and can't help the way her stomach flips when she feels his warm skin under his shirt. 

Startled, he turns to her, before breaking into a smile. "Mel!" She goes red at just her name. She likes the way he says it, like he'd been waiting all night to see her. So bright. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks, looking around, like he’s shocked she's in a bar.

Mel tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd worn it down, and she's suddenly very glad she did. She watches him watch her, following her hand until it rests back at her side. The same one she tapped his shoulder with, still tingling. 

"Oh, uh." She doesn't want to tell him other people from work are here. She wants to keep talking to him, just them. "It's emo night." 

"You like emo night," he says disbelievingly and straightens up. The light catches him, and Mel can see his face clearly now. Under the purple lights, he looks pallid, red-eyed and disheveled. His movements are slow, sluggish—she realizes that can't be his first beer. Or second. 

“Are you feeling okay, Dr. Langdon?” Mel frowns. Something is different about him. He looks flushed, and while it is warm in the bar, his hand shakes slightly around his glass, indicating another cause. His fingers tap, tap, tap on the rim, a strange contrast to how steady they’d been, how competently he curled them, setting the Le Fort III fracture. Every few moments, his eyes flit somewhere else, unsteady.

“Yeah, yeah, just out with some—” he shrugs, sloppy, “uh, friends of mine. Some guys I know from undergrad.” He’s leaning heavily against the table.

“Okay,” she says, locking her hands together to squeeze her own fingers. Mel’s never been one to be able to hold something in, not something that’s been bothering her every day for the past two weeks, so she has to ask, especially when he seems so excited to see her now, “Why haven’t you been back to work?” Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why did you say you needed me if you weren’t going to come back? 

He groans and leans forward. The table sways, threatening to spill the beers.

“Mel, I fucked up. I—I hurt my back, right? And it’s not like I’m an addict, I just was trying to manage my pain, you know?” The music is so loud and people keep streaming through the door. She has to step forward, crossing over into Langdon’s space. He looks her up and down as she does with his bloodshot eyes. 

“It was just a few pills. Overprescribe some benzos, take a couple … just to manage my own symptoms. I swear, Mel, you have to believe me.”

Oh, she immediately understands, this is withdrawal. That’s what she sees under the inebriation—the panic setting in, nausea soon to come, tremors and palpitations and headache. He’s in an active medical emergency.

“We need to go to the hospital,” she says automatically. He needs help, now.

“No, no, Mel, I don’t want to detox there—I only stopped a day ago, it’s going to get so much worse, oh my god. I still haven’t told Abby, I haven’t told anyone. I thought getting hammered was a—” he laughs, and Mel doesn’t know why, “a good idea. I’m a fucking doctor and I don’t know what to do.” He’s practically leaning off the table into her by now. She can smell him, nicotine and sweat and beer, but also something she recognizes from her first day, and she wants to bend down and breathe him in deep. “Please,” he says, looking up at her. 

She hasn’t heard him beg before.

There’s never been a time in her life where she didn’t at least try to do the right thing. She shouldn’t listen to him. She should take him to the hospital to get the proper care. She should call his wife, maybe even Dr. Robby. She doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if she doesn’t help. He’s in crisis, spiraling, desperate and scared. 

She’ll take him home.

That’s still close enough to the right thing, she reasons. She’s a doctor, she can help. She’ll monitor his symptoms. Better her than his absent friends, than any of their coworkers or superiors. Better than his wife. 

His friends choose then to return, loudly talking as they come to the table. Mel flinches at all the noise, heat spreading out from her chest, feeling like everything is closing in. Before they leave, she needs a minute. She’s going to take Frank Langdon home and she suddenly feels that green tea shot in her stomach and the past few nights where she thought of him come rushing up and she needs a fucking minute. 

“Hey, Frank, who’s your friend?” one asks, smiling at Mel. 

She doesn’t let Langdon answer. 

“Can you watch him for a minute, please?” 

His friend frowns but acquiesces. Mel rounds the bar and heads to the bathroom. She doesn’t bother telling Trinity she’s leaving—she doesn’t want to explain it and she doesn’t want to lie, not right now. She figures she’ll text them later once she can come up with something to say other than I’m going to take Dr. Langdon home because he’s about to start benzodiazepine withdrawal. 

When Mel comes back from the bathroom, Langdon isn't with his friends, and the rest of his beer is gone.

"Where did Dr. Langdon go?" Mel asks, alarmed to find his seat empty. 

One of his friends—she can't remember his name—shrugs and looks around the room. "He probably went to get some air. Or a cigarette." 

Mel wasn't sure what kind of friends Langdon had, but she knows he needs better ones than these. She doesn't try to find their coworkers, just heads out the door into the crisp night air. There are a few people near the front door smoking, but Langdon isn't one of them.

Her nerves get the best of her and she jogs down the street towards the gas station. She doesn’t see his white shirt among the people walking, not in any direction on the corner. When she goes back the other way, she turns down the block and thankfully finds him there against the building, eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths with a hand to his chest and the other holding him up off the ground where he’d knelt.

He’s in bad shape. She can’t believe they were both at Belvedere’s, what were the odds? She also can’t believe she’s seeing him like this, and that he needs her again, begging her in his weakest moment.

She bends down and says his name in a low, quiet voice. He reaches for her out of nowhere, wrapping her wrist in his big hand.

"Mel, please," he gasps, holding onto her wrist hard. "Don't make me go home, please. I think I’m going to be sick. I came out here—I don’t—I don’t know where to go. I don't want to see her—" he stops himself and groans. "I don't want my kids to see this."

She doesn't want his kids to see him like this, either. She doesn't want anyone to see him like this. She wants to be the only one. He won't let his wife see, won't let his friends—but she's here with him, crouching in front of him on the corner of Butler and Fisk, and he's letting her see.

“Frank,” she assures, “it’s okay. I won’t make you go home.”

He opens his eyes and meets her gaze. He looks incredible, sweating through his shirt and swaying, all gaunt and afraid, on the verge of spilling over onto the sidewalk.

“We can go to my place. I can take care of you there.”

The look he gives her is full of gratitude and swollen blood vessels.  

She orders the Uber and waits with him on the ground while people pass by, zig zagging along the sidewalks drunkenly. He mostly just tries not to be sick on the concrete while she keeps watch, checking for the car. When it comes, she pulls him up bodily, relishing the way he feels against her, grabbing him greedily, delighting in the way his cool skin feels against her warm palm.

Mel sits with him in the backseat and lets him lean into her, head lolling against her chest, while he mumbles and clutches at her side. The however-many beers he had, and god knows what else, must be really hitting him. He’s all loose, curled into her. "I just ... I wanted to see you," he slurs, spitting along her jean jacket as he moves. "Couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted—" 

It's all he gets out before the Uber pulls up to her place. Mel wants so badly to ask what he means—she thought about him too, lots of times, especially at work, wondering where he was, or in her bedroom, late at night—and she goes warm imagining that he did too. 

Langdon can barely keep his eyes open and head up as they stumble to her door. She doesn’t have time to let it sink in that Langdon is in her house. Her living room, then kitchen, then bathroom. That’s three rooms already that she’s going to walk through, remembering that he’d been there, and there, and there. 

He scrambles out of her grasp when she opens the bathroom door. Moonlight streams in through the small window by her sink and illuminates him as he falls to the floor and reaches for the toilet bowl. The pale light catches off his ring when he grips the porcelain tight. Violently, he shakes and pitches forward. 

Mel should leave him be. She wouldn't want anyone seeing her in that state, let alone a coworker, let alone someone she barely knew. He wasn’t in the right state of mind. She should turn around and close the door and check on him once he quiets. 

But he's so frenzied, everything tense, fingers like claws, back arched and head bent, making sounds he can't help, fighting against something he can't control. Slowly, she steps up behind him to place a gentle, cool hand on his hot back, a touch he rises to meet. His back is damp with sweat as she rubs it, soothing circles while she coos, tells him it's okay, it's okay, mapping out his straining muscles as he falls sick over and over.

This is what he’d look like straining, panting, thrusting forward, chasing it, oh—  

"I'm sorry, Mel," he whimpers, "oh, god." It takes him again, and again, and again. She wants to slide down behind him and press herself to his back; he wouldn't be able to throw her off. He'd probably lean back into her, grateful for the comfort, and she'd let him rest there against her chest for as long as he needed. She could gather him up, keep him, right there on her bathroom floor.

Her face flushes and she straightens. Pulling her hand away, already missing the feel of him, she says, "I'll be back," and rushes for her hall closet. 

She grabs a washcloth for him, a cold compress would help, she thinks, but all she can hear is the sound of his retching interspersed with pained moans. The back of her neck is hot. Her jean jacket feels too tight, so she strips down to her t-shirt, light purple, like their first day. 

She stops short of going back into the bathroom, deciding rather to stand with her back up against the wall next to the door. She can hear him so well. She just wants to listen, just for a moment. 

Unable to help herself, she slides her hand down the front of her pants and grinds the heel of her palm against her clit, biting her lip to stay quiet. Hungry, starving—she listens to the way he breathes, so heavily in her silent house, quiet enough she can hear the clink of his wedding ring hitting the bowl. 

Devouring each long, drawn out gag, she grinds down again in a circle, imagining how it would sound if she were underneath him, if maybe he were inside—

She dips the tip of her fingers between her lips, feeling how wet it makes her just to listen to him. 

Shaking, she tries to go deeper, when she hears him say her name. 

“Mel?” he calls with a hoarse voice. He sounds like a child, lost somewhere unfamiliar. “Mel, please come back, I’m sorry, please—I need—” He whines so high it sounds like a cry. 

She wants him so badly. He needs her, he’s begging for her. She takes her hand from her pants, cunt still throbbing, and goes back into the room.

She gets down on the floor with him, letting him know she’s there. He’s leaning his head against his arm, resting. His back rises and falls with his rapid, fearful breaths, and she moves in close on her knees, nearly whining when his back finally meets her chest. Sweat soaks through immediately and she can feel the dampness on her breasts.

“I’m scared, Mel,” Langdon admits, voice muffled by his arm. She has no idea what he’s been doing since his last shift. Apparently, lying to his wife and going on benders, but otherwise she can’t begin to guess. Something tells her, though, that he doesn't have many people in his corner. She’s the one that caught him running scared, trying to hide from the hard part.

“I won’t let anything happen,” she soothes. She watches his pulse jump in his neck and tucks her face against it. She is still so wet and warm between her legs. His breathing picks up, each inhale shorter and shorter, while it builds in him. This is just the beginning. Five or so more days of this lay ahead of him. Mel’s not sure what’s going to happen, but she’d like to be there for it. Her heart races thinking about it, so covetous. “Frank, I’m here.”

When he tenses again, she’s right there. His neck stresses and bows. She follows him when he goes forward again, staying close, and she feels it come up his throat, feels the way his esophagus clenches and releases right against her cheeks, and he spasms and bucks like some wild animal, so Mel slides her hand around to his stomach, trying to ease him. He jumps and twitches at her touch, in a different way than before. He’s still pitched over the toilet, but he doesn’t shy away from her hand, rather moving his hips forward like he’s searching for her touch.

As a doctor, Mel’s seen countless people on the worst day of their lives. She wonders if this is Langdon’s. While he throws up with her writhing in tandem with him on the floor, following his movements, not shying away, showing him I’m here, I’m as close as I can be, I won’t look away, she wonders if his wife would. Had he tried to show her, and she looked away? 

The thought nearly makes her whimper. She might be the only one. 

Langdon calms again, sagging back against her. She still has the washcloth she grabbed from the closet. She doesn’t want to, but she gently peels herself from him, cool rushing in and prickling her chest. She moves him slowly, easing him back against the wall, sitting him up. Quickly, Mel wets the cloth in the sink, squeezing out the excess and folding it nicely.

She wipes his face softly, brushes the hairs sticking to his cheeks out of the way. He’s so out of it, puke on his lips and letting her move him like a rag doll. Mel takes him in, looking at him over her glasses, thinking—he’s the most beautiful he’s ever been, she knows. She wants to kiss him, she wants to devour him fucking whole. She puts the rag down and she picks at his soaked shirt, skitters her fingers down to his pants and doesn’t think as she undoes the button. Then the zipper, loud even under Langdon’s breathing. Mel’s heart pounds in her chest. She’s never done anything like this before, ever. She’s never wanted to. Frank Langdon makes her want to. 

He lets her slide his pants and underwear down to the middle of his thighs, trapping him there.

He’s sick. She’s a doctor. She’s going to take care of him. 

She leans down and takes him in hand and she’s surprised to find him already getting hard, growing in her palm. He’s slumped against the wall, eyes nearly closed, but he’s looking at her, a pinched look on his face while he tries not to get sick again, and he doesn’t stop her.

He’s big, but it’s not like Mel could compare it to anything. She’d thought it would be, though, and her mouth waters knowing she’d been right. It was the way his voice was deep and gentle in the break room, the way he spun around to talk to her, how he’d looked at her when she noticed he’d come back, all confidence, all ease, riding the ER like it was nothing. She’d known. 

In the pale light, she can see how red he is, so swollen. She lowers herself until her chin bumps the tip of him and she makes note of every detail, unwilling to let any of this go. She’s going to remember everything about him. There’s a thick trail of hair leading from under his shirt to surround his cock, dark and full. He has a mole on his left thigh, far up where the hair thins out over his delicate skin. 

She leans down and kisses it and his legs jump a little, just so. Sweat salty on her lips, she opens up and slips his cock into her mouth, closing around his head right away.

For something she’s never done before, she immediately knows she wants to do it again. He twitches then, still moving like molasses, but he thrusts up with a little groan, and Mel sinks down further, thrilled, wishing she could touch herself, too. He fills up her entire mouth, curving with her tongue down her throat, and she gags around him, spit slipping down the length of him. She grips him at the base, getting a better handle on him. 

“Mel,” he moans, alert enough now that he’s fully opened his eyes, still bloodshot, still blue. “What are you—that feels so good,” he pants. She lights up at his voice, curling her toes and flexing her hands. “Please, fuck.” 

He’s said please for her so many times tonight. Langdon may be starting his withdrawal, but Mel’s only starting her addiction, she thinks. She’s never going to stop chasing the way that word sounds in his voice, directed at her, needing her. 

With buzzing ears, cotton-filled, hazy, she starts a rhythm, up and down, slow but sure. She likes the flutter of her throat when she chokes, and so does he, pressing his back into the wall to push closer into her, arching up. His hand messily tangles in her hair, holding her head, wedding ring cool on her scalp, and moves his thumb back and forth sweetly. So grateful, all in the palm of her hand. 

“Baby,” he slurs, the word dripping out like honey.

Mel moans around him, so pleased, so happy to be the one with him, the one he’s calling baby, the one he’s surrendering himself to, limbs pliant and cock hard. He shakes when she does. She swallows around him, trying to put him all in her mouth, because he really seems to like it. 

She slides her legs out underneath her, laying on her stomach in front of him, the cold tile giving her goosebumps across her skin. It’s easier this way to go deeper, press down as far as she can go until she can’t breathe. She can’t take it all just yet, but she tries her best, and she thinks she’ll be able to work up to it. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, torn between his pleasure and being sick, stuck somewhere in between. 

He moves his hand down to cup her neck as she moves quicker, getting messier and messier, spit wetting her knuckles and leaking down her chin. 

“Baby,” he says again, more of a warning. She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t know what it’ll be like, but she doesn’t care, she just wants him. 

Everything pulses, and she feels him come in her mouth, so warm. She keeps her hand on him as she swallows, drinking him down, until he’s whimpering. 

When she looks up and wipes her chin, he’s smiling at her. She likes his smile. She likes everything about him, even if she doesn’t really know anything. Other than how kind he was to her, how he found her across the ER, how quickly he understood her.

“Mel,” he muses, mystified. The moonlight cuts across his face, glimmering like little stars over the sheen of sweat on his cheeks.

This isn’t over, not by a long shot. They’ve barely crossed the startling line. He’s going to be sick again, probably soon. It’s going to get so much worse before it gets better.  

“Can I stay with you? Mel, I can’t go home. I really can’t.”

His voice is so ragged and tired. She can’t get enough. It doesn’t matter why he can’t go home. Nothing matters except he’s here with her, sick all down his shirt, splayed out, all hers. She has never wanted something more in her entire life. She would never say no to him.

She doesn’t know how any of this is going to work. She doesn’t know what will happen in the morning when his wife starts to wonder where he is. Or what she’ll do about Becca for the weekend, or what she’ll tell Trinity. But none of that really matters. Not when Langdon asks her so sweetly, so weakly, on her floor, just looking for some mercy, for her gentle hand, her eager mouth. 

“Yes, as long as you need,” she says, heart breaking open, “I’m here.”

Especially when no one else is.

She’ll be there.

[royalarchivist]

Pac: This is the new me, ok? I want you to welcome... the new Pac! [...] This skin is really cool, I think I'm gonna use this more often.

Himaru: ...What happened to you, man? Did you get run over? 😰

Pac: [Laughs] Don't judge me, don't judge me!

Being ugly in Arkanis is a crime, and unfortunately for all of us, Pac loves being a criminal. 😓

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

Pac: Guys– This is the new me, ok? I want you to welcome... the new Pac!

Pac: [Laughs]

[Pac gets kicked from the server with the message: "Change this"]

Pac: [Laughing] No! No! No– I won't change, I won't change, I won't change! I won't change! Let me- let me in! No no no– What a dictatorship– there can't be a dictatorship here, no– No, I won't change! [Stammers] I'm- I'm myself! I'm myself!

Pac: [Pinches his nose so he has a nasally voice] Hi friends, welcome to class. I'm going to talk like that, ok? I'll even turn off the facecam, because today, I'm going to– I'm kidding, no no no.

Pac: Man, this skin is really cool, it really is. I think that this– I'm gonna use this more often, man. [Reading chat] "Halloween is over" Guys, this– This is who I am now! Who I am– This is me now, I'm this person here.

[Red text appears on the screen saying "30 seconds to change"]

Pac: "30 seconds to change–" Hang on, what is this?! No– calma, what is–? Guys, for the love of god–

[Another warning appears saying "20 seconds to change"]

Pac: No!!! No! No no no! No no no! You can't do this! You can't do this here. You- you can't. You can't make me change my skin.

[A final warning appears saying "10 seconds to change"]

Pac: No– You can't, I won't take it off! I'm going to my class now, I have to go to class! This is my "studying" skin! I- I–

[Pac gets banned]

Pac: [Hits his desk]

Dono: The skinmakers in chat are crying, having heart attacks, collapsing. It's horrible, dude.

Pac: [Laughs] It's not that ugly, it's fine, it's good.

Himaru: [Long pause] ...What happened to you, man? Did you get run over?

Pac: [Laughs] Don't judge me, don't judge me! Ok? Look at- look at- look at JVNQ! He has a funny face too, but nobody says anything about it!

Himaru: No man, I'm not judging you, but– I just wor- I'm just worried! [...] Well for me, I'll be serious with you: it doesn't matter what's on the outside, ok? What matters is what's inside, got it?

Pac: Thank you. [He hugs Himaru] Do you think I'm poggers? Do you think I'm poggers? Say it.

Himaru: No Pac, it doesn't matter that you look ugly, ridiculous, like a truck reversed into you then ran you over, like someone hit you–

Milo: my god

Himaru: –like Anderson Silva crushed you in the ring– Hey, it doesn't matter! What matters is that your heart is beating.

JV: And you have a home!

Himaru: Understand? Give love to others, ok?

Pac: My god.

Milo: he was saving those insults

Himaru: And that's all, ok man? You can be at peace, ok? I won't- I won't judge you, I'll just... I'll just do one thing, man.

Pac: What are you doing?

Himaru: I'm just going to avoid eye contact, ok? But I'm still talking to you, I'm still listening, ok? I hear you.

Pac: ...I can't believe this.

[ghostpajamas]

there is something inside you, and it loves you.

[mortysmith]

Okay waaiittt guys this episode was surprisingly very nice!

I really really enjoyed how summer and morty's relationship was portrayed, it makes me smile whenever theyre portrayed as close to each other. Or i guess more specifically them understanding each other very well, and even if they disagree they know exactly how and what the other is thinking.

Uurrmmm beth and summer were also very interesting and fun to watch, beth especially trying to be kind of a 'cool' mom/friend and sucking up to summer, and summer immediately catching and exploiting that. It rounds both of their characters out very nicely. The ending where summer disregards her entire development to get high was kinda funny to me, since i think the show is trying to make the point that even if summer currently is kind of vain and impulsive, she'll eventually grow into that smarter and more opportunistic version of herself. Idk

Rick was kind of just there but like thank god. I really dont think he could have added anything much more meaningful to the plot, or at least i think the plot was good enough to justify his 'absence'. Him being excited over jaded ptsd-ridden engineer morty was cute i really enjoyed it. In general rick was very goofy and silly here which i think was very nice and. Oh my god. Like excatly what ive been talking about for the last three billion years. Like where morty gets more cynical rick instead becomes more stupid and goofy and that is really really perfect. THANK YOU.

Umm morty was also like actually genuinely perfectly written. I cant believe im saying this but i genuinely dont think i could have asked for anything else. Okay well maybe that they made him a little gay but even then i'll turn a blind eye since he was aware of the matrix so maybe . Um. Idk. Whatever. Anyway who cares. The point is he was like actually so well done and every line of dialogue made me smile every time he was on screen he was doing some shit. That he WOULD be doing. Like it really is just so him to get attached to fake matrix people while also fully knowing they were fake(being a sentimental little fella runs in the family). And his adult design actually looking really fucking good. Also him being a firefighter😭😭😭 awesome. Im just like. Delighted. Jubilant even

I will say tho and this is me being nitpicky and annoying that the writing at times felt very. On the nose. Very much tell. Not show. Like beth and summer + morty and summer reconciliation scenes were both very much these Lets Beautifully Phrase Our Deeply Rooted Strugglers dialogues and idk ... Seemed a little clunky..... But like honestly i could forgive this episode for pretty much anything considering it delivered exceptionally on the morty as well as rick&morty front

[ajastu]

god okay. sorry for yet another text post. but i'm just still thinking about the argument that veilguard is bad because the only option re: morality of your player character that it gives is kindness.

Now, to preface. I understand where this criticism comes from. Veilguard IS a departure from the general scheme of the previous games, in several aspects. And i understand how people would be upset at not having quite the same kind of options/ways to influence the world. It took me some getting used to, also.

What i do disagree with, however, is using that to claim that the game is bad, irredeemable, and also meaningless n soft or whatever.

Because it's really not. It's just different, with a different narrative focus. I've played the previous games several times, and as i said before, origins is in first place for me. Veilguard is a very close second. And i'm not more right or wrong in this opinion than someone who thinks datv is the worst game in the series.

You can still make choices that will influence the world in wildly different ways, they're just not... ''genocide or no genocide'' kinds of choices. Which i can see how some people would not consider the difference significant enough to be interesting for them personally. Which is whatever, im not their dad, i dont really care.

However. I think it's kind of weird to say that ''the game made me resent being a nice person'' or that "kindness you dont have the choice not to offer isnt worth a lot"

Like, game criticism aside. That is just an objectively weird thing to say.

There are ways to phrase that particular dissatisfaction in a way that will not make most people side-eye you. This is not one of those ways.

The thing is, it was a deliberate choice in characterization. Since game development at AAA scale is. an incredibly complex beast, i suspect there were many different reasons for it, and not all of them purely narrative. It is also not 2009 anymore. We are not getting another Origins, like, probably ever.

But. Rook is established in the very second cutscene to care about other people. It makes sense narratively, too, with Varric being the one to recruit them. Their backstory also shows that they gravitate towards the 'moral' choices. It's not bad writing. It's deliberate.

That does not mean that everyone has to like it. And i don't think the people who are upset about the change in this gameplay aspect are stupid or wrong.

We are all different people with different preferences, and i really am sorry if the game ended up being a disappointment for you. I know how it feels, and it does suck.

But i also do think it might be worth to examine the way people choose to phrase this complaining. The claim that kindness is somehow diminished in value if you aren't offered the choice to be cruel alongside it. I just think that, like. misses the point of what kindness is?

I know what those people mean when they say it, i just...fundamentally disagree with the sentiment. And i think phrasing it in this way is incredibly weird. sorry 🤷‍♂️

There is a better way to talk about this particular complaint. I just never actually SEE that being done. and i do think a lot of it comes from not actually engaging with the source material people are trying to criticize. Like, the person i sort of quoted earlier explicitly said they have not finished the game. If you never give something a chance in the first place, if all the information you have is second-hand, then i do not find your criticism valuable in any way. There is no substance to it, no backing. You are not proving a point, you're just chasing your own tail at that point. There isnt even a bone to chew. You've only heard of the bone. you havent actually experienced it.

Another part is people being too twisted up in the emotion of disappointment to actually see that they're not making compelling arguments, necessarily, and that they're actually being a tar pit.

I know not everyone thinks as much about the push towards dismissing the value of kindness for kindness' sake as i do. But like. It really is very weird to see this insistence that game bad bcs it didnt have the option to do a murder to an innocent person, or something. While also dismissing the horrible things we Are shown as 'not in your face enough'.

And honestly, personally? I dont love origins or any of the other ones specifically for the ability to choose the evil options. It's never even been a choice for me, because you can very well play the games without having to make the bad choices. theres always a workaround. And that workaround doesnt even harm u in any significant way. there isnt an actual like. terrible complexity here. I enjoy the dwarf politics quest a lot but ultimately, knowing the outcome? its EASY to choose Bhelen. Unless you're playing a dwarf noble origin, i guess. Rip Harrowmont 🙏 you would have made a terrible king.

And again, my personal opinion is not more right or wrong than that of someone who adored the prev dragon age games exactly because they allow you to make some terrible terrible moral choices.

At the end of the day. why are people still so pissed about a game that came out almost 6 months ago that many of them havent even played in the first place? Relax. take a walk if you can. Maybe move a snail out of the road if you find one. There tends to be a lot of them after it rains. Think about the ones that didn't make it. Try to find compassion for lives so easily dismissed. Maybe that will make you think about whether or not kindness on its own really is so lacking in value.

[rocketbirdie]

i see it's that time of the year again where people start hating on the english localization of remake/rebirth despite having next to no understanding of how large scale translation projects work 🙃

[quibbs126]

So I tried to do some practice of TF One Optimus and Megatron, starting yesterday

It was because I was thinking about Lux and how I really should have tried to draw these two more beforehand, since I haven’t drawn them properly in a good while (not counting my more simple drawings of them), and I figured my old colors for them probably weren’t accurate anymore

First I just lined and colored the head sketches I had made on that initial Lux idea thing, and I ended up quite liking them in all honesty

But then I realized I probably need to do more so I can figure out all their colors (like for example, Optimus’ red is nowhere on his head). But I didn’t have premade sketches to draw and color over, so I had to draw new ones

I’m gone be honest, while I think yesterday’s Optimus turned out pretty well, Megatron on the other hand, not so much. His head’s fine, but the rest of his body, eh

I think it’s because while I have drawn Optimus before, and with actual screenshots from the movie, I’ve drawn Megatron far less, and I’m usually using this concept art that while generally accurate, has a bunch of details off from the final version. It’s probably also why I constantly forget his cannon, because it’s not here

Also my perspective generally isn’t the best, and it keeps changing from the initial rough shapes to the final. I was able to tweak for Optimus, but Megatron I couldn’t save much

Also my god, these designs are so complicated, they take so long to draw, it’s a whole ordeal. I’m probably spoiled by my own incredibly simple AU designs, but still. Doesn’t help I’m not very good/experienced at 3D. Apparently these two alone took a collective 3 and a half hours, while my normal drawings probably won’t be longer than 2

I’ve half a mind to simplify them more, maybe resemble the Animated style more, but I’m not sure. I’m trying to adhere to the movie’s style more at least in the eyes, and I don’t know if I want to change everything else while keeping that. Or maybe I should, especially since I already don’t make the plates look 3D enough, like they’re sheets rather than plates

I don’t know how people do this, it’s so difficult. But again, I’m probably just inexperienced and spoiled on oversimplification

My anatomy’s also off I think, I still need to figure out how the arms are supposed to work

But yeah, take these I suppose. They aren’t terrible, but they’re nowhere near the quality of someone who’s good at drawing these bots, particularly from TF One