just saw a post written by a very kind and tolerant person politely explaining in detail why it is rude to listen to music/watch stuff on your phone in public without earbuds. I’m glad people patient enough to do that exist, since the only explanation I could possibly offer is “because you aren’t the protagonist of this grocery store”
Seeing Cody in the trailer has left an absolutely bitter taste in my mouth because this means:
1.) we probably won’t see Tem as live action Cody in Kenobi
2.) Cody will probably be killed off in TBB
3.) they intentionally put a fan favorite character in a very disliked/controversial show (and revealed it in the trailer) to bait fans into watching it/forgetting about the controversy surrounding the show.
It has to be said that Ryan Bergara is an A+ boyfriend. A private pandemic safe movie screening for your partners first feature film??? I wanna treat a GF like that some day goodness.
Tommy shouting “The discs were worth more than you ever were!” only to immediately regret it and feel the remorse for everything he’d said and done come crashing down at once in the same moment that the invis wears off and Tubbo is able to actually see him for the first time.
Quote from @SwampAdvice on Twitter (written by frequent collaborator on The CryptoNaturalist Podcast Leslie J Anderson).
Here is a secret about things you love. If you put them down you can always pick them back up again. You can always paint again, sew again, hike again, play music again, read that book again, watch the movie. “But it’s been so long.” The thing you love doesn’t care.
Ropes and cuffs aren’t necessary when your body is equally as capable of enslaving me. Your bare hands and sheer force would be enough. That’s how you’d fool me into thinking that I’m in for a night of roughness, by aggressively pinning my wrists to the mattress and immobilizing my legs with yours. Little would I know that you’re not about to fuck me until I’m sore. You’re not about to leave vicious little bite marks across my writhing body, like you’d done before. No, tonight you’re going to contrast the force of your touch with the softness of your mouth. You are going to be painfully slow and unbearably gentle, and that will be my torture.
For a girl like me, the feeling of your lips slowly moving from my jaw to my neck would be agony. I’d shiver and squirm against your grip, wanting you to move faster, lower. You’d lick me across my collarbones, and I’d expect you to bite. I’d want you to bite. You wouldn’t, not this time. Instead, you’d continue on down to my heaving breasts, flick your tongue over a nipple and harden it. Oh, you’d spend a long time there. You’d spend decades just licking and sucking and grazing your teeth over my desperate tits. I’d be pulling against your merciless hands, practically wrestling you, but you’d be much too strong. You’d order me still and I’d feel my skin throbbing against your fingers, feel the red marks they’d undoubtedly be hiding.
It wouldn’t be until you got to my navel that I’d really start begging. I’d beg you to fuck me now, to give me your cock, to stop the ruthless movement of your mouth and take. You’d tell me to hush. Sometimes a man just wants to explore what he’s conquered. The lower you’d go, the slower you’d go, and the more time you’d spend on the most sensitive parts of me. Like that little spot above my abdomen, the spot that makes all my muscles clench. Or that little crevice right above my clit, so close to where I ache. My pussy would be so wet and needy for your lips, but you’d evade it. You’d concentrate on my inner thighs, on anywhere but the soaking wet hole you own, and I’d be powerless. So powerless.
Once you’d give in and finally lick my needy pussy, once you’d bring me to the edge with that torturous mouth of yours, only then would you loosen your grip a little.
But you wouldn’t let me go until I let go, screaming my gratitude.
I was an arrogant prick when this all started. Perhaps fittingly, given the kind of things we’re dealing with, but that doesn’t really provide an excuse, only an explanation. I thought that the rules didn’t apply, that I could be cavalier, allow things to happen organically without planning or forethought, and common sense and a general sense of things would carry me through safely.
I was an idiot, my own brand of naive. Worse than that, I was dangerous.
The thing about rules is not that they’re absolutes. Their purpose is not to restrict, but to offer a bit of guidance. They’re the lines of best practice, to prevent you from slipping into the gutter and missing the pins entirely. Without rules all you have is inexperience and an overeager sense of things, and that’s a volatile mixture.
I’ve fucked up, more than once, and every time it’s happened it’s because I thought I knew better than the things I’d heard, been told. Most of the time it was innocuous enough; hurt feelings, bruised egos, nothing more, but I’m prone to dwell on the times when it could have gone even worse, properly done some damage, and the thought terrifies me.
Rules are meant to be broken, you may have been told. But the idea behind that is not that you should disregard them entirely, but that you should learn their purpose, understand their intent, and then decide how you want to subvert and bend them. To break you need something to hold onto, and that means you have to obey the rules before you can cause any fractures.
