#78 on hold

[the-forest-library]

Ok, I’m going to need books to stop coming out for a while so I can catch up.

[halcyonbot]

wx doodles ft wolfgang

[princessofbookaholics]

currently reading ✨

[septemberlikestea]

you were my brightest student, my research partner, and my dearest friend.

[rainesjupiter]

:(

[naamahdarling]

*

[powdarrkeg01]

Beep boop

[coriander-candlesticks]

I've been wanting to make my own set of tarot cards for a while now but wasn't sure how. I found out that my local metaphysical shop sells blank decks (!!) so I'm finally starting to design them! It's going to take a while, of course, but I'm enjoying just kinda going on instincts instead of exhausting myself by overthinking a theme I may or may not want to stick with by the time I'm done sketching and start painting them.

[widowshill]

[socksandbuttons]

Notbme staring at my inktover knd 2019 drawings and going Damn

I need to practice inking agaib

[thinkingnot]

if laughing was a sport i just ran a marathon binging half of gekkan shojo nozaki kun

[idiotfactory]

Bringing these back because I’m getting the itch to put together a new kit

[marmotsomsierost]

(In a corner of raley's, talking with a sports med doc's office returning my call to see if i can just go see them or if i need to talk to my regular doc first.)

Me: (describing the various issues esp my left leg)

Office: how long have you had these symptoms?

Me: (laughs) the original hip thing, i dunno, 13 years? The foot like 8 months, the heel thing like 2 weeks. The new hip thing, maybe a year? The knee thing i honestly can't remember. The shoulder / arm thing is basically gone so i'm pretty sure that was just stair carry and gurney lifting being shitty. But that was about three years and it's been gone for about a year which checks out, timewise.

Office:

Office: ...and what is the reason you're calling now?

Me: the heel pain is bad pain

Office: on a scale-

Me: oh, sorry, no, not- y'know, like good pain is you're sore after a regular workout, normal pain is like you pushed yourself too hard or because you did something new or out of the ordinary like help a friend move out of a third floor apartment with no elevator so now your whole everything hurts, and bad pain is like, okay, this doesn't feel right, this is something wrong.

Office:

Me: like i tweaked my lower back on a stair carry and felt sore at the end of that shift but not like hurt, but the next morning i had to literally log-roll out of bed to crawl to the bathroom and was like 'shit i have to call dad to see if this is Bad-bad or just muscle-bad'. And i could lay prone and supine just fine it just sucked getting to those positions so it was just muscle-bad and i needed a week to not work and walk around and let it relax. The heel thing is kinda like that? And i was talking with one of our PAs and she was like '...you should get that checked out, you might need an MRI' and i went 'i mean at that rate i'd need like a whole-body MRI' and she gave me the 'don't be a dumbass' look.

Me: so i called you guys to see if i had to get referred or if i can just come to you guys first, let y'all decide what diagnostic imaging might be needed, and go from there.

Office: can you hold for a moment?

Different office voice: if the pain in your heel isn't that high, why are you more concerned about that than the longer-term, more acute pain you described?

Me: oh, well, a girl i danced with in college ruptured the extensor tendons on her left foot during one of our shows and it made me a little paranoid.

Different office voice:

Different office voice: what sort of dance? How long?

Me: that show was a mix of modern and ballet, not pointe though. But i haven't danced regularly since then, so about 20 years ago.

Different office voice: and did you stop dancing due to injury?

Me: no, the peds ortho i saw in high school was like 'you can keep skiing, volleyball, and basketball and track, or you can keep dance, but you gotta pick one or you're gonna need a knee replacement before you're out of college' and i was like 'i am not giving up mountains for dance' and quit.

Different office voice: mmm, i see. Ok, one moment-

Office voice: we'll give you a call in a few days once we've got an answer about if we can either see you without a referral or get a referral when we see you. Okay?

Me: okay, thank you!

[ambrosiagourmet]

Man, even the smallest of side character in Dungeon have such heart and impact.

So in chapter 78, the elves (led by Flamella) have an opportunity to kill Laios. They believe that he is certain to fall to the Winged Lion and doom them all, and they have told everyone else as much. Laios friends and acquaintances, though conflicted, stand by.

The orcs are the first to protest. They are ready to fight for Laios (and their own best chance for freedom, through him). But no one else takes action.

Until...

Oh hey, it's Doni!! From what, like... chapter 3?? That's cute. It's even kind set up, since you can see him and Fionil in the chapter before this, reacting to the news that Laios defeated the Mad Sorcerer.

It's a small detail, but you can even see that Fionil has her hood up. Probably that's tied to the extra info on her from the Adventurer's Bible - she's a Canary spy.

Wait. Hold on.

Fionil is a spy. If that news comes out, she risks both her ties to Doni and possible arrest or punishment from the elves. She has been hiding out and trying to stay under the radar. But despite this, when Doni comes forward to vouch for Laios, so does she.

So yeah. THAT is the context of these panels:

That's why she's crying here. That's why its notable that she lowers her hood.

Fionil puts her life at risk by coming forward and standing by Doni. And it's these two that spur everyone else into action. Doni and Fionil save Laios, and Laios saves Marcille, and then they and the party go on to save the entire world.

I'm proud of her...

[mylittleredgirl]

born too soon to spend my teen years logging onto ao3 on my smartphone in the privacy of my own bedroom, born too late for mimeographed zines, born just in time to sneak into a common area of my family home at 2 am and wrap the modem in a thick blanket to muffle the screeching, so my parents wouldn’t catch me spending 18 cents a minute on long-distance rural dial-up to type my sexually confused hopes into webcrawler and lycos, praying maybe one other person on earth also liked the same character i did enough to make a web page about it. and that my connection to the information superhighway would hold out long enough to download 78 kilobytes worth of .txt files onto a floppy disk labeled “SCHOOL BACKUP” that i would guard with my life.

[libingan]

need simon to do this to me fr

probably me projecting bc im also very stressed out w my grades bc what the fuck is a 78/100 on an exam thats too many damn mistakes

simon riley who eats you out whenever he senses the slightest bit of stress.

he hates it. hates the way your brows knit together, the way you hunch over your desk, fingers flying across the keyboard, or how you stay up until ungodly hours, studying yourself into exhaustion.

he can’t stand seeing his pretty girlfriend so worked up and frustrated. not at all.

he watches you for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. it’s late, and you’re still glued to the screen, eyes tired but determined. he can tell from the way you chew your bottom lip, brows furrowed, that you’re getting nowhere.

without a word, simon moves, the weight of his footsteps barely registering to you until he’s behind your chair. his large hands rest on your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tension knotted in your muscles. you exhale sharply at the touch, but you don’t stop working.

“love,” he mutters, voice low, gravelly, “you need a break.”

you shake your head, fingers not pausing in their typing, “i’m fine.”

he doesn’t believe it for a second.

with a soft grunt, simon spins your chair around, and before you can protest, he’s on his knees, between your legs, hands gently prying them apart. your breath hitches as he looks up at you, that intense gaze dark with intention.

“you’re not fine,” he murmurs, lips already pressing to the inside of your thigh. “but you will be.”

simon doesn’t waste a second. the moment he decides you need relief, his patience is gone. in one swift movement, he grabs the waistband of your sweatpants and yanks them down, along with your underwear. the fabric barely hits your knees before he’s tossing them aside, not even caring where they land.

“simon—” you gasp, half in protest, half in need, but the way his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wide, leaves you no time to think, no time to argue.

“no talking,” he growls, eyes dark and focused as he settles between your legs, his broad frame looming over you. the way his gaze drops to your exposed core sends a shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly as he takes in the sight of you, already slick, already ready for him.

he doesn’t bother teasing, doesn’t waste time with slow touches or drawn-out kisses. no, simon’s far too direct for that. instead, he dives in, mouth hot and wet against your folds, tongue sliding between them with a precision that has your back arching off the chair in an instant.

simon doesn't relent, his mouth working you with an intensity that has your entire body trembling. his tongue flicks faster, sliding over your clit with expert precision, every stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. he’s relentless, pushing you further and further, his lips sealed around your swollen, throbbing nerves, sucking just hard enough to make you see stars.

his grip on your thighs tightens, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, keeping you spread wide open for him. you’re completely exposed, every inch of you laid bare under his gaze, and the way he looks up at you while he eats you out, eyes dark, primal, like he’s devouring you, makes it that much harder to hold on. your legs twitch, your hips buck, but he keeps you pinned, right where he wants you.

“simon—fuck—” the words come out broken, your voice shaking as you try to find any kind of rhythm, but you can’t. not with the way he’s working his tongue over you, dipping down to tease your entrance before sliding back up to suck hard on your clit. it’s messy, wet, and filthy, his chin drenched with your slick, but he doesn’t care—if anything, it only spurs him on, makes him hungrier.

“taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls against you, his breath hot, his voice vibrating against your core, sending a new rush of heat straight through you. “keep makin’ those pretty little sounds for me.”

you can’t help it—the whimper that slips from your lips is beyond your control, your body betraying you under the expert touch of his mouth. every flick of his tongue, every roll of his lips has your head spinning, your thighs shaking, your fingers digging into the armrests of the chair as you try to anchor yourself to something—anything—but nothing keeps you grounded. not when he’s got you like this, at his mercy, completely wrecked under the assault of his mouth.

he slides one hand up, fingers teasing at your entrance, his eyes still locked on yours as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them up to hit that sweet spot deep inside. your back arches off the chair, a loud, breathless moan ripping from your throat as he thrusts his fingers in and out, fucking you in tandem with his tongue.

“there it is,” he mutters, lips brushing against your clit as his fingers pump faster, harder, the wet sounds echoing in the quiet room, mixing with your desperate, gasping breaths. “that’s my girl… gonna cum for me, aren’t you? gonna make a fuckin’ mess.”

you’re so close now, the coil in your belly tightening, your muscles locking up as you chase that sweet, inevitable release. your legs tremble, your toes curl, and simon’s name tumbles from your lips over and over, a breathless chant as your body spirals closer to the edge. he keeps going, never slowing down, his tongue lashing against your clit as his fingers curl deeper inside you, pushing you right to the brink.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough, dark, dripping with lust. “cum for me. want you to soak my fuckin’ face.”

and with one last flick of his tongue, you snap. the orgasm rips through you, white-hot and blinding, your entire body seizing up as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you. you cry out, fingers tangling in simon’s hair, pulling him closer as your hips jerk uncontrollably against his face. he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your entire core as he laps at you, drinking in every last drop, prolonging your high until you’re nothing but a trembling, breathless mess in his hands.

he doesn’t stop until you’re completely spent, until your body goes limp against the chair, chest heaving, mind hazy and blank. only then does he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your slick, his eyes hooded and dark with satisfaction. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking as he looks up at you, his voice low and rough as he mutters, “feel better now, love?”

you can barely speak, still lost in the aftermath, but the way your body melts into the chair, the way your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths, is answer enough. simon just chuckles, leaning back on his heels, clearly pleased with the way he’s completely unraveled you.