#Like pulling teeth.

[averbaldumpingground]

Dialogue Prompt: "That is way above my pay grade."

It had seemed like such a good idea on paper when Darcy had told her, armed with her nice curling iron and that one dress from the absolute back of Jane's closet that had been hanging there, still in its dry cleaner plastic, since probably some time in the Cretaceous Period judging by how many mom jeans and flannels Darcy had had to excavate past just to find it, that they were going out. An excellent idea, really. An absolute stroke of pure genius.

And, more importantly, her brilliant plan had been working. Jane, pleasantly tipsy, was actually making friends.

Well, one friend. One very easy on the eyes male friend. Who had been totally okay with Jane interrupting his pool game to lecture him and like half the bar about physics or applied geometry or something. Darcy didn't know, but it sounded smart and very Jane-after-two-shots-of-tequila, so it probably still made sense. To people with a bajillion graduate degrees. Or engineers or something.

But Darcy didn't need to understand. She could totally tell that Mr. Tall, Somewhat Bewildered, and Probably-a-Pool-Shark was into it. Like really into it.

And sure, the dude had been wearing some kind of shapeless JC Penney funeral suit, but he was hot. Like really hot but kind of trying not to be. It wasn't working. Darcy still knew he was hot. Because she knew these things. Better than physics or quadratic equations or whatever.

The stranger in the creepy flasher trench coat she sat next to had just nodded. So he had probably agreed. Or been confused. He'd looked a little confused. But Darcy didn't mind. She was so right and she knew it.

And Jane knew it too. Because she was actually flirting!

Or, well, she was talking about gamma arrays. And something about nucleuses. Nucleii. Nuclice? Those tiny little atom thingies that blew up. Yeah, those!

Flasher Dude just blinked at her and kind of cocked his head. So okay, Darcy was drunk enough to narrate these things out loud. It was fine. Totally fine. And Jane showing interest in a guy was worth like a whole David Attenborough documentary's worth of narration. Well a guy who--

And that's when it happened. Because apparently Darcy had jinxed them by thinking about it.

"Really, Foster? The GRETA project? That's how you start talking dirty?"

Darcy groaned. Just one night. Just one frigging night.

"But the structural advancements--"

No. Not this again. Darcy really didn't even want to hear it. She banged her head against the bar. Mr. Probably Drives a White Van poked her shoulder. He looked concerned. Or maybe constipated. Darcy didn't know and didn't want to find out and--

"--really so pedestrian of you. The readings out of Cheyenne--"

"--Uh, Jane, was it? I think I'm probably--"

"--but germanium provides a--"

--just gonna go now?"

The hot guy had set down his pool cue. Nooo! This wasn't how the evening was supposed to go. Darcy had checked both their lab schedules. She knew she did. Overly Pedantic Jerkface was supposed to be babysitting the freshman astrology section tonight. Astromony? Astromasomething. That thing where they stayed up past 2 and--

"Man, that is way above my paygrade."

Hot Guy had gotten his jacket. And Jane hadn't even noticed. No, not even a little. Because she was glaring daggers at Overly Pedantic Jerkface, still in the center of the bar, the two of them openly doing that thing, where they were whisper shouting and stupidly close and Jane was waving her arms in his face. Something something Berkeley blah blah blah Dr. Whatsherface said-- Darcy was very much done.

And the worst of it was that she wasn't even surprised. Nope. Not a little. She had been totally on track to finally getting Jane laid. Which Jane really, really needed.

But then of course he showed up. Of course.

Darcy turned her head, the sticky mojito residue plastering her hair to her cheek. She sighed. Even the trench coat guy had left.

"--the long term implications of--"

She sighed again, signaling for another of whatever was the last thing the bartender had given her.

It was going to be a terrible night.

[anna-pineappel]

Writing really goes one of two ways:

1. Write 3k words in 30 minutes

2. Takes 3 hours to write 3 sentences

There is no in between

[sermna]

Just thinking about what their necromancer/cavalier relationship would've been like if they hadn't been pressed into lyctorhood :')

[animalinvestigator]

happy 9 years

here's to 990 more

[wildfane]

revisited my “what if tawnypelt’s children were the three” warriors AU 🤪

[hiekka]

i just think a lot about the few hugs we get to see them have. especially the one in 'daydream hour'. i have so many feelings about toshiro being repressed as hell

[wtfforged]

i think about this one piece party panel so often i wanted to draw it

the panel ⤵️

[stillgotscars]

“i hate taylor swift” can trump stop being useless and say expressly that he likes her at least 90% less now so we can get a generous merch discount again

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 1/2

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.

I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.

From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary. 

As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp. 

Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.

You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.

You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.

You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?

You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.

As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.

“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.” 

Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”

“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”

You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass? 

Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where did you find this?” 

You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.” 

He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.

“Well, can you read it or not?”

His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”

That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.

You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.

“It looks like candy.”

“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”

You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.

–

During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent. 

You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.

You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.

As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest. 

Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.

It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.

When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.

A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..

Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers. 

Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.

Astarion. 

His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself. 

He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.

His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.

“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.

“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”

–

You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.

You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched. 

Hot. Why is everything so hot? 

It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.

Could this be some sort of illness? A fever? 

No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off. 

Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.

It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf. 

His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -

Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.

A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.

This is - well, you have no idea what this is. 

You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.

You’re soaked .

N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared. 

“What  in the hells…?” 

You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve. 

You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain. 

Pleasure to the point of agony.

The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear. 

Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle. 

After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat. 

But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.

‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.  

‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’

It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.

You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”

Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’

You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.

Think, please. There has to be a reason this -

“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”

Shit.

‘Ooh, this one might do!’  You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.

No. No. Absolutely not.

You try not to panic. 

Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.

The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before. 

You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”

She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat. 

“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you. 

Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.

“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”

She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.” 

‘Well, I think you look delectable.’

You groan.

At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence. 

Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.

Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy. 

It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.

The disembodied voice squeals with delight.

She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.

“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”

Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?

You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.

A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again. 

You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.” 

Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.

[missusruin]

patreon sketch requests from back in feb

[jellyfishsempai]

It has been a LONG WEEK, and it’s only Monday

[wolfchanw]

The most maddening part of my job is how many general practice vet clinics will refer a patient out to a veterinary dentist due to something they found on X-ray, then make it almost impossible for us to get the x-rays.

Every week I wind up calling clinics repeatedly, begging them to send us dental radiographs they took which prompted a dental referral. “I don’t have access to those” “I don’t know how to send those” “They’re really hard and slow to access” or just saying they’ll send them and then blowing me off completely. How are ANY of those things my problem? Figure. It. Out.

Today’s special fun was brought to me by Banfield and a cat with stomatitis. I called the Banfield where kitty had the x-rays taken, and was told that since the owner has moved, all of kitty’s records are now at this other Banfield. I called Banfield #2 who told me to call #1 back because the rads were taken there and are stored there.

This was the FIFTH set of rads (out of twelve patients) that I had to chase down this week so I am afraid I lost my patience a bit and demanded that both clinics send me the rads or I would reach out to corporate.

Bloody unprofessional, unbelievable, and absurd.

[butchdiaz]

BUCK: afraid of heights

gotcha for gaza fill for han my beloved @exhuastedpigeon. if you have some spare cash you can help gazans stay connected <3

tags!

@goldenbcnes @chronicowboy @diazisms @poughkeepsies @ilostyou

@911onabc @faethfigueroth @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @youreonyourownkid

@userautumn @eddiebabygirldiaz @leothil @mustachediaz @jjudaslips

@shitouttabuck @bvckandeddie @wearherlikeanecklace @oneawkwardcookie @diazly

@smallandalmosthonest @canonfageddie @freakazoidfag @heterosexistly @sibylsleaves

@cranberrymoons @fruitydiaz @hunybody @roy-kents @henswilsons

@dadbodbuck @wellcollapse @spoilerspawn @spacediscos @daughter-of-winterfell

@gayedmundo @watchyourbuck @maddiebuckettebuckley @buckgettingstruck @evcn

[thesandlorde]

[blamebonk]

Idea I had for a looongg while!! Finally got around to doing a lil something something

[eerna]

me explaining why Will/Elizabeth/Jack love triangle was a perfect little one-movie arc that wasn't present in the final movie because it was never about choosing and instead just about dynamics and character development so they all outgrew it by then