#did or said anything

[baekuras]

Started Dragon Age: The Veilguard today and omg how i've MISSED company banter

i may have only started like a month ago with the dragon age series overall, and i may only have played 2 and Inquisition(some) but in DA:I i've missed company banter so MUCH compared to 2 and I've got it back here and it fuels me

i dont even care about if the story will be a 10/10 or whatever, 2 wasn't a 10/10 and pretty rough in many places but I loved the companions so much and their bickering and banter and extra dialogue and stuff and I've missed it so much in DA:I i am just happy to be here i swear <3

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[egophiliac]

last chance to guess what the new round of birthday outfits will be!

[sihtryggr]

sometimes a family is a gay man, his wife, her boyfriend and their three comunally raised children.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[mischiefbuckley]

Oliver correcting the woman during the interview and taking a moment to pause and reflect and saying “uncovered about himself, he discovered in his mid thirties now that he identifies as bisexual” in regards to Buck’s sexuality on the show when responding back after she had said “you had to switch roles. your sexuality changed on the show which was a really big turning point” like bless that man so much he cares so much about the representation and always since day one defending bisexual Buck like we truly are blessed having Oliver playing our bisexual icon Buck 🥹🩷💜💙

[grimfantas]

10 years in the future for Nanako-chan

[mipmoth]

Whenever I think about their little assigned triangles im like... the triforce...

[hinamie]

so just know, I'm healing / even though it don't feel like it

insp

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

He just wants to be missed

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Mmh- Good morning~ Wakey wakey, sleepyhead.

I made you some coffee. 

Cut up some fruit in the kitchen.

It’s time to start your day.

Are you- Jesus Christ, it’s 9:52, it’s 9- WAKE THE FUCK UP.

IT IS 9- ITS LIKE 10 AM, JESUS.

Audio Source

[justaz]

merthur marriage of convenience. arthur is complaining that his council is on his ass about marrying and siring an heir and they keep trying to arrange marriages but arthur doesn't fucking want any of them. merlin knows that arthur would like to marry someone he loves but he also knows that arthur has shown no interest in like anyone except when he was enchanted so like...who tf is he gonna marry? he needs to marry someone to get the council off his ass so he's just like "why not marry a friend? ik it wouldn't be a marriage of love but at least you'd have some control and choice in this." and arthur is like "hm. but who tho?"

anyways they make a list of everyone they know who can bear children (bc arthur will need an heir eventually). then they narrow it down, crossing off names like gwen bc she is happily married to lancelot and in a loving relationship with morgana (she has two hands and i love morgwencelot) and morgana (she's literally arthur's sister but they were just putting every name they could think of down first) and elyan (he may be able to bear children but they know he wouldn't be happy going through it bc of medieval dysphoria). eventually it's down to two names, mithian and merlin and arthur looks at merlin's name then up at him and is like "you're literally a trained physician so you should know this but you were literally born a man...how tf are you gonna bear children?" and my beloved genderfluid magic incarnate emrys just shifts her form to female and is like "don't be an idiot. anyways, mithian or me?"

dumb idiot whipped and in love arthur is like "you" and dumb idiot whipped and in love merlin is like "bet". anyways they marry but they're very insistent it's just as friends. lol they have to consummate the marriage the losers. they insist they did that as friends too. the entire round table has way too much fun with this. anyways they remain married "as friends" as they slowly morph into a very loving and touchy relationship "as friends" until they're like casually kissing as greetings and farewells and have that moment of "oh shit we're like actually married and in love" bc they're stupid dumb idiots.

anyways they unite albion and are recognized as high king arthur and high queen merlin and finally have an heir - the high prince/princess whatever you prefer. uhhhh anyways merthur happy ending bc i'm a sucker for it.

[rottengurlz]

she’s like if the virgin mary smoked a pack of pall malls every day 🚬

[thedreadvampy]

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

[angstflavoured]

i never realized, in the beginning of weirdmaggedon 1, bill says that he's "been trapped inside my own decaying dimension." Ik a lot of people depict him like going other places after destroying his universe, but I guess that he really couldn't. that was the whole point of him trying to get ford to build the portal for him, so he WOULDN'T be stuck in the 2d dimension. everyone he met, he met through traveling through the nightmare dimension and the dreamscape. He'd never seen any of them in person.... which would mean that his physical self had to be stuck on euclydia, right??? that means every time he wasn't invading people's dreams, every time he woke up, he was right back at his home dimension where he killed everyone. Just kinda... i dunno, floating in space? like oh my fucking god, no wonder he was never able to get over it for millions of years. jesus christ yeah the guy needs therapy, every single one of his wounds are scabs that never got to even start the healing process.