#good god. good god this is so long

[dogvhs]

I tried to send this as an ask repeatedly but when i tried to do anything with copypaste and the indent feature tumblr violently shit itself to death. Anyway I love your hlvrai fics and wanted to send something for the DVD Commentary ask thing! This excerpt from Atonement and Enticement makes me smile, and it planted the seeds for some lovely scenes in future stories. I'd love to hear more about it. (Also I think honeysuckle is a vine and not a bush but Tommy is allowed to get a thing wrong. as a treat) - needsmoreexplosions/blacktobackmesa

"I like the pattern," Tommy murmurs absentmindedly, nodding in the direction of the basket. "Those are cosmos, right? My favorite flower is- I think they're a, uh- a type of bush, maybe not actually a flower at all, but my favorites are honeysuckle. There was a massive wall of them, right outside my- my house as a kid, so... they always make me think of home, of dad, and summers w-with him and Sunkist—" she cuts herself off, looking to the side and scratching at the back of her neck. "Sorry, I— I completely forgot where I was for a second."

"Like hearing you talk," Benrey replies. "Could hear you talk forever..." They trail off with a yawn, resting their back against the sink cupboards and eyes drifting shut.

"Stay awake, bud," Gordon chuckles, nudging their knee with his until they begrudgingly sit back up. Both Gordon and Tommy burst into laughter when Benrey immediately leans forward and rests their head atop folded arms on Tommy's lap.

"Haven't seen a ton. Almost none in person," Benrey mumbles. "But there was one I remember super well. They're called bleeding hearts. Saw them in a magazine one of the other guys left in the break room. Thought they were nice, wondered if the colors were that bright in person..." they pause to look between Gordon and Tommy. "You think when we can, we can go someplace and see 'em? Wanna... wanna see those, and more. Wanna see honeysuckle, and— what's yours, Gordo? Your favorite?"

"Yeah, we can go, and uh... man, I've never really thought about it, I guess."

"Tellin'- tellin' me no one's ever asked for your favorite? No one's bought you flowers, man? Unbelievable. If I was dating a dude this handsome you'd have to stop me from bringing him flowers every day." Benrey cackles when their words make Gordon go bright red, but they have mercy on him and move on. "Guess I'll just have to be the first and pick some up for you. You and Tommy."

Tommy laughs around a kiss laid on their forehead. "I don't th- think you'll find mine in any shops."

"No?" Benrey hums in consideration, nestling a bit further into Tommy before turning their gaze back to Gordon. "So, what're yours? If you had to pick?"

"Mm... hydrangeas. There were these big bushes outside my apartment in Seattle, and someone must've always been looking out for them, they were well taken care of. They were this super bright blue, and I remember—" Gordon laughs. "I remember scooting a chair close enough to the window while I worked on papers and shit just so I could look over every now and then and... watch 'em. Probably sounds pretty stupid."

"It's not stupid. I think it speaks to what you're like," Tommy begins softly. "You'll g- you'll go out of your way to notice the small things: things people would walk by without thinking about, but you find something in it worth paying attention to, you'll take the time to appreciate them... there're lots of things like that, that you do, I mean. Pretty incredible..." their last words leave their lips in a sigh, and Gordon's heart grows to feel fantastically light in response. It's not another second before he's pulling them towards a kiss, but he stops at the last second.

"I, uh- I should probably brush my teeth before w- holy shit, I get to brush my teeth." The other two laugh at his excited realization while Gordon jumps to his feet and grabs his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet, quickly overlaid with a healthy amount of toothpaste.

Thank you so much @needsmoreexplosions for seeing that post and sending this in! The post in question is here. This is going to be so, SO long, and I am so sorry. Like, GOD, I've written so much— please know that even though you sent this in, you're never obligated to read all of this, LMAO.

Okay, so! The purpose of writing this was a cool down scene after a brief spike of tension in the form of Gordon stressing about Black Mesa coming after Benrey. I've always loved plants, and I love that flowers have their own language. I didn't really use a lot of that here, but it's why I had the idea for them to talk about flowers in the first place, hehehe.

Their conversation here starts as a way for Tommy to take Gordon's mind away from the previous stressors, and the cosmos on his laundry hamper's the first thing she sees, so that's what her brain jumps to. It's a pleasant, easy topic to shift to, and I thought it could serve another purpose by providing little glimpses into how the three of them think about/are attached to the world around them.

For Tommy, she holds onto fond memories closely and returns to them for comfort. He sometimes has trouble discerning what's comforting for himself versus what would be comforting for other people, so relays memories of objectively good things, like childhood pets and favorites, both as a self-soothing thing and to try and serve as comfort for the other person. It's helped him ease into conversations before: by telling the other person what this topic of conversation made him think of, it encourages them to share their thoughts, and Tommy loves to listen.

For Benrey, there's so much they want to know about, and now they're out, Black Mesa is nothing but rubble, and the future they distantly wished for is now entirely possible and real for them. It's overwhelming in the best possible way. Benrey thinks about all the things they've heard about in passing, all the things they've only seen the briefest glimpses of, and wants to see as much of it as they can. A lot of the ways they look at the world is through this sense of fascination, of wonder, because a huge, huge part of it is completely unknown to them.

For Gordon, one of the few things he prides himself on is being resilient. He's proud of being trans, because he grew up in an environment that pushed back against him with everything it had, trying to get him to conform and be confined to what he was "supposed" to be. He's proud of getting through MIT because of the insane amounts of work that went into getting his degree. The trauma is still raw, but one day, he'll be proud of himself for surviving Black Mesa, and proud of himself for his family surviving with him. His fondest memories are ones where he is resilient, where he survived even if everything else wanted him not to, so a lot of his memories hinge on his struggles, both on the good and the bad sides of it.

Beyond that, this scene is a little surface-level glimpse into how their thoughts work, both in regards to themselves and each other. Their relationship is still a new one, after all, and it's been put through so many trials in the course of getting out of Black Mesa. The three of them are feeling things out, trying to understand each other.

For starters, one of Gordon's biggest personal "arcs" in parts of this fic and other fics in this series is him grappling with self-hatred. It's severe to the point where it bleeds into his thoughts, his words, his actions, so on. He'll let himself be emotionally open, and then immediately backpedal by brushing his own words off as unimportant or stupid.

Tommy's relationship with Gordon began by taking care of him, and they continue that by looking out for him, by being quick to jump in and reassure him. Hell, they got together when Tommy was desperately trying to keep Gordon alive, and at one point in chapter 7, his self-hatred is a direct obstacle in that goal, so at any chance they can get, Tommy will step in and defuse anything that feeds into that mindset.

As for Benrey, they sometimes struggle with being genuine. They're quick to misdirect anything that could come across as genuine concern/interest/what have you by joking around or doing something that'll get the others to laugh. This is something they start trying to correct in the moment, though, by going back and adding onto their previous thoughts or explaining what they said in more detail. Bit by bit, they're letting themself be open around the people they know they can trust with it.

Okay, final miscellaneous bits about this part to close off on! I liked showing all the different ways the three of them get exhausted. Gordon's plain stubborn about it, trying so hard to keep his eyes open and refusing to even think about being the first one asleep. Tommy gets rambly, much more prone to bouts of infodumping. Benrey just wants to find whatever's softest, curl up on top of it, and pass out at the first chance they get, heheh. Benrey also gets personally offended by the fact that none of Gordon's partners bought him flowers, both because it makes them wonder how they treated him and because a lot of Benrey's understanding of relationships hinges on what they've seen in media and from snippets of conversation with other security guards/talks with Tommy. It's a decently full picture of what love is and what it can be, but it's not a complete picture. Then again, who does have a complete picture of what love is? Benrey's learning to define that as they go, and it's working out well enough!

Oh, wait, wait, one last thing! There's little bits of each of their love languages in here! Benrey likes giving gifts, likes learning what people love and likes giving them things they know will be loved, which is why they hear Gordon and Tommy's favorites and immediately want to go out and find them. Tommy likes to listen, likes to make both of them feel heard, which is why she'll ask prompting questions and happily sit back to listen to Gordon and Benrey's answers. Then for Gordon, it's probably not too surprising, but he likes to give out physical touch! His first response to being hit with a wave for affection for Tommy is to pull her into a kiss, for one, and he's just a very tactile person in general: lots of hands resting on shoulders, hands holding hands, hugs, etc.!

Thank you so much for sending this in- it was really fun to talk about it!

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[pants-lint]

Just had a Thought and now I'm curious. What's you guy's strangest comfort media? It doesn't have to be strange as in like creepy/fucked up/whatever, it can just be smthn a lil odd.

[hinamie]

i don't normally participate in these redraw challenges but it's megumi so i'll make an exception

[huang-er-jiejie]

i. i just realised something about the kiss.

the way when aziraphale puts both of his hands on crowley's back, you can see them kinda shift so aziraphale isn't leaning. he held onto crowley for stability, and leaned in. pushed closer to him. he leaned forward. anyone ever says he didn't want the kiss im going to hunt you down because HE HELD CLOSE!!! HE KISSED BACK!!!!

EDIT: also im like WELL aware he kissed back i was even when i first watched it like its not a big revelation, its just that SOME people☠️ on TIKTOK☠️ KEEP SAYING HE WAS DISGUSTED BY THE KISS???? like i swear some people are watching a different show entirely

[kensatou]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera

[winkle-pickers]

Covenant

[vaguely-concerned]

I understand and agree with a lot of the frustrations about the shortcomings of Inquisition as a story. but sometimes when I hear people complain about the chosen one narrative in it I do want to just be like... you know it's a deconstruction of the concept more than anything, right. the inquisitor isn't actually chosen by anything except stumbling into the wrong (right?) room at the right (wrong?) time because they like, heard a noise or whatever. or if you think they are chosen, as many do in-universe, that's something you have to take on faith, the maker-or-whoever moves in mysterious ways indeed-style. the Inquisitor isn't actually a Destined Chosen One, they're a Just Some Guy in a fancy hat, self-delusions of grandeur to taste as you'd prefer.

a running thread that goes through all of the personal quests of the companions is the concept of a comforting lie vs. an uncomfortable truth, upholding old corrupt structures vs. disrupting them, and the role of faith in navigating that. (blackwall the warden vs. thom rainier the liar and murderer. hissrad vs. the iron bull, or is that the other way around? cassandra and the seekers -- do we tell the truth about what we find, even if it means dismantling the old order of the world? and so on.) and your inquisitor IS at the same time a comforting lie (a necessary one, in dark times? the game seems to ask) and an uncomfortable truth (we are the result of random fickle chance, no protective hand is held over the universe, it's on us to make a better world because the maker sure as hell won't lift a divine finger to help anyone, should he against all odds exist). faith wielded for political power... where's the point that it crosses the line into ugliness? is it before it even begins? what's the alternative? will anyone listen to the truth, if you tell it?

interesting how you also get a mix of companion agency in this -- you have characters like dorian who ALWAYS choose one side of the comforting lie vs. uncomfortable truth dichotomy. he will always make up his own mind to go back to tevinter and try to dismantle the corruption of the old system no matter what you say, or how you try to influence him. meanwhile iron bull is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum -- so psychologically trapped and mangled, caught in an impossible spiritual catch-22, that his sense of identity is left entirely to you and your mercy. you cannot change dorian in any way that matters; you can be his friend or not, support him or not, but he is whole no matter what. you are given incredible and potentially destructive-to-him power over bull's soul. it's really cool (and heartbreaking) to think about.

this is a game about how history will eat you even while you're still alive, and shape you into whatever image it pleases to serve it, and for all your incredible power right now you are powerless in the face of the gravitational force of time -- of more than time, of History. you won't recognize yourself in what History will make of you, because you belong to it now. you don't belong to yourself anymore and you never will again. the further you were from what it needs from you to begin with, the more you will find yourself distorted in its funhouse mirror. (why hello there inquisitor ameridan, same hat!)

and to me this is so much the core of what Dragon Age is about right from the Origins days -- how and by whom history gets written, the inherent unreliable narration of it all. I hope you like stories, Inquisitor. You are one now.

I do think it's probably still the weakest of the games narratively, and it's hampered by its structure and bloated systems. but I also find it disingenous to say that there's nothing deeper or actually interesting going on with it, thematically. if you're willing to engage with it there is Some Real Shit going on under the high fantasy-tinted surface.

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[otiksimr]

Some Yveltal sketches (curated from my main blog, there's some lore in the tags if you're interested.)

[jestarcana]

🎶 Oh, what a night 🎶

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[egophiliac]

crossing my fingers and wishing upon every star that chapter 10 finally brings us the tweel cards 🤞🤞

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[hinamie]

sidelong

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]