#and now I ran out of juice

[alistairssock]

Neria is so funny bcz she took one look at Leliana and was like wow babygirl you are batshit off the rails insane, wanna join my merry band of delinquents? Only to later get all silly and mushy when Leli attempted A Flirt by complimenting her so untrusted crow's nest of a hair. Weirdos find a way (love edition)

Like Neria's not particularly religious by any means. She grew up in a mostly human-dominated village, tho be it a fair amount of diversity depite the size of it. Not many years later she gets sent to the Circle after her magic manifesting. Then at some point decided there are no gods of any shape or form or culture, or else they'd interfere by now and she wouldn't be there.

Lived a good chunk of her life with unprocessed trauma prior Circle life, in addition to Circle trauma as well. Got snatched up by Duncan as soon as the whole Situation with Jowan happened, and in her grief and hurt, she had no hesitation of getting out of there. Ideally Jowan had come along with her. And Anders (but she knew he'd manage somehow, his atrocities to authority were always a bit...more delicately handled than Jowan's stunt).

Somber and with a head buzzing like a thousand bees she followed Duncan all the way to Ostagar. There she met Alistair, who she found both peculiar and refreshingly earnest. The two bonded quickly and she found comfort in his presence, despite the hurdle that kickstarted their adventures together. She had insisted they both drank their share at the same time during the Joining ritual (despite Duncan protesting a little, he allowed them both a shot each).

Not long after, they stumbled across this Very Devout murder nun. Neria had come by crazier, but was wary a good while while travelling. Suspicion didn't exactly lessen when the met Zevran. But he was somewhat easier to accept. Had he tried to kill them? Yes. But was he a fanatically devout believer in this Shem god? No.

Soon after Morrigan joined the team and at that point Neria was just so accustomed to her outcast traveling companions, that a bog witch was nothing. She seemed nice enough, y'kno. Despite her hissing cat behaviour. Nothing she couldn't get used to.

For a while, it was only the five of them on the road. And it was nice. Depite the challenges. Despite the impending looming shadow that followed them, whispering at every convince that the world might end. The damn Blight.

Aside from that tho, Neria had never felt more free and at peace with herself. It was a learning curve, but she was finally allowed to figure more out of who she was as an individual. It was refreshing and new and exciting and wild and scary, all the same. If it wasn't for the stakes at hand, she'd prefer not to wear Warden outfits 24/7, but part of her also enjoyed the familiar uniformity. It was the only comforting memory from the Circle.

Neria picked up Leliana trying to flirt and hint that she had feelings for her. Not that it was anything new to her. She had had a few lovers back in the Tower, even multiple at the same time. Surprising how little the Templars guarding them payed attention at times, and it worked in her favour.

Leliana was a bit diffrent tho. Something she couldn't pinpoint drew her to her, and it didn't help she had a wonderful singing voice. And of course she was pretty too. Carried herself with such elegance and grace she'd only see in cats. And yet she knew what she was capable of, and that intrigued her no less.

It wasn't until they were about to enter Orzammar, and Leliana started babbling about her love for Nugs, that Neria had a few bangs of epiphanies. These budding feelings were real and they were about to spring into full bloom if she wasn't tactful. At the same time she didn't know why she was so hesitant. The rouge clearly had some feelings for her, and it wasn't like they hadn't had some vaguley romantic moments now and then.

But it was kinda hard too. Doing all this political stuff she was practically just flung into, and then supposed to make a relationship flourish. For a long time she didn't know how to do that. Until she brought back a Nug to camp and held it up to Leliana, and Leli leaned in to kiss it but crashed and the nut leaped out of her arms and her lips...met Neria's. That's when the deal was sealed. She was in love and so was her crush and it all just kinda flooded over her like a bucket of cold water. She allowed the kiss to last as long as it needed, before Leliana pulled back flustered and bewildered. The kiss had been nice, but it also caused Neria to bail and overthink things for a week in the Dwarven tunnels.

[itslilacokay]

a what if

paralleling this

[gonkaccino]

HAVING A NORMAL ONE OUT HERE IN THE OLYMPIC EXCLUSION ZONE

[starishsky]

free day / the moon will sing

[four-pointed-leaf]

giving you your favorite (or one of your favorites!) snack because of all the lovely art you make

[Cheesy!]

[slepdepriv]

While I love my coffee maker, actually getting it on this table and plugged in was a traumatic experience. In the version of Votv I played when I bought it, there was a bug where the actually power plug spawns under the map which is a slight road block to actually using the thing. I try and be smart about it and use the funni hidden hole near the front door to get under the map and find the plug and then grab the plug and pull it out of under the map back with me! So like the fool I was, I assumed everything was fine now and I started dragging the coffee maker to the main room, expect that I look away for FIVE SECONDS and turn back and find that SOMEHOW the power plug got LODGED INTO A WALL! Not under the map but within the SOLID MATTER OF THE WALL.

I tried to stay calm- If it had just... glitched into the wall then it could surely glitch out, right? RIGHT? So I tried to pull the coffee maker away from the wall to try and force it out- nothing. I tried to ram things into the spot in the wall where it was stuck- nothing. I tried to use to the BROOM to SWEEP IT out of the wall- All that did was make a single corner of the plug poke out to TAUNT ME.

I could not help but think- what had I done to deserve this?? I simply wished to drink coffee but in real life and in the game at the same time! Was that too much to ask?! HAD I HOPED FOR TOO MUCH??? NO. I would not let a mere PLUG best me in such a way! Even if this was some punishment for my hubris then I would merely break their pitiful attempt to stop me! In a last desperate attempt I took the coffee maker into my arms and ran into the first in the dead of night, running further and further away as the coffee maker slowly started lagging behind me as the tension of the cable between it and the plug desperately tried to stop me! And then after running for who knows how long no longer able to even SEE the coffee maker- I let go.

I ran back to base and found nothing, no plug in the wall, no coffee maker- it was like nothing ever even HAPPENED. I searched desperately in and around the base and outside of it- I searched the forest but still found nothing... But then I had a thought- what if me letting go of the coffee maker had given it even momentum to phase through the base itself and come out on the other side and into the river? So I ran to check my hypothesis and... there it was- my coffee maker lying under the bridge plug and all.

I then carefully dragged it back into base by the plug this time and set it on a table and plugged it in! I've been too scared to touch it since.

[mimiyanna]

For the first time in what seems like forever. I have begun work again on TSTMNE Paper Edition.

[inafieldofdaisies]

The Seeds as Don't Starve Together Characters | Edits

Okay, so this edits started with me thinking how Jacob would look as a character in one of my favorite games, Don't Starve Together. I love the artstyle and would sometimes find myself playing it for hours. I ended up making Faith and John as well. The results are far from perfect, but I still felt like sharing them, because I kept imagining those three running around ingame and how cute they'd look. Especially Jakey with a tiny Judge, enough said... 😂

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Quick note on TEoP: technically I have a chapter 2, but I don't think I'm completely down with it as it stands, and as of now I feel pretty overwhelmed by the amount of pure, raw research left to pour into this character's voice for it to truly shine, and so I kind of have paused progress on that front because I don't really have the energy to do that work right now.

The work will be done, but it's hard to say when. Sorry :(

[unidentified-fork-object]

I wanna eat stamps is that ok

[halfdeadwallfly]

pro tip if you want a really quick and easy strawberry milkshake take frozen strawberries, vanilla creamer, and water in a blender and you get a smoothie that functionally tastes like an improved (imo) if not slightly seedy milkshake

[lily-sinful]

pickles and coffee: the breakfast of champions

[jaesblogstuff]

Not again

That one awful time you got a UTI because you didn’t pee after and it ruined both you and Simon for days...and the future.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

It’s distant. Slow. Boneless and heavy and floating at the same time—like you’re made of liquid, spilled across the bed, soaking into the mattress where Simon left you.

Everything’s sensitive. Your thighs are trembling. The inside of you feels warm in a way that shouldn’t be possible—so full, so sore, still twitching from the way he held you down and ruined you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. it’s all Simon.

You might’ve fallen asleep. You’re not sure.

Then you hear him shift.

You don’t move.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble into the pillow.

He exhales slowly through his nose, amusement crackling under the surface of his voice.

“It’s been thirty.”

You groan, long and dramatic, and turn your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “You said you’d wait.”

“I did. And I have.” He leans in, mouth brushing behind your ear. “But you’ve got to get up now.”

“No, I don’t,” you mumble, lips barely moving.

“Yes,” he says, not unkindly. “You do.”

“Fuck off.”

“You need to pee.”

You sigh with a full-body shudder. The last thing you want is to move. Your thighs still twitch with every shift, every reminder of how hard he’d been in you—deep and rough and mean, the kind of mean only Simon can be when he knows you like it.

And now?

Now your brain’s caught somewhere between satisfaction and irritability.

You squirm an inch and hiss at the soreness. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I literally can’t feel my legs.”

He hums again. Not arguing. Not pushing. Just present.

And then you snap, just a little. Not angry, just done.

“God, why are you like this?” you bite. “You get off, and suddenly I’m a project.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, with that same frustrating calm “I get off because I wreck you, sweetheart. But I also remember what happens when you don’t move after.”

You're quiet.

“Yeah.”

You groan again. “Don’t bring it up.”

“I am bringing it up.”

He shifts beside you, moving the hair away from your damp cheek.

“You remember what happened last time.”

You do.

Unfortunately.

That time when you’d passed out immediately after sex—sore, blissed out, perfectly used—and slept the whole night through. Didn’t pee. Didn’t think to. And the next morning?

UTI. Full force.

Your insides were on fire. You couldn’t sit down without wincing. Couldn’t even have him look at you, let alone touch you.

You were grumpy. Snappy. Miserable.

He was worse.

Because not only were you suffering, but he couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t fuck you. Could barely cuddle you without getting a sharp “Don’t touch me, Simon.”

He was all but climbing the walls by day two. You'd heard him mutter “This is hell” when you snapped at him for putting the wrong tea in your mug.

And even then, he never said I told you so.

He just brought you cranberry juice and heated pads and ran you a bath and kissed your temple like he didn’t feel half-insane.

Now?

Now he’s not risking it.

“You were a nightmare,” he mutters, rubbing your lower back. “And I didn’t get to fuck you for a week.”

You roll onto your side to glare at him. “It was your fault too.”

“Exactly why I’m carrying you.”

You pout harder. “I’m not talking to you.”

“You’re literally talking to me right now.”

“Simon—”

He sits up and leans over, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. “I'm not doing this again.”

You huff, but you don’t fight. Your limbs flop against his chest like dead weight. You nuzzle into his collarbone, still grumbling.

“You’re annoying.”

“Mm.”

“Bossy.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I still can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckles and carries you across the room, his big palms smoothing over your bare skin as he holds you close.

Once in the bathroom, he sets you on the toilet like something precious.

And instead of stepping back or giving you space, he stays.

Right in front of you.

He’s standing tall, bare chest in your face, warm hands on your shoulders—guiding you gently forward until your cheek rests against his stomach.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

“And you’re soft,” he says. “All bark.”

You don’t respond.

Your body’s buzzing. Your thighs are still trembling. But when you finally relax enough to pee—

“Oh—oh my God—”

You jolt.

The pressure. The release.

Your muscles seize instantly, twitching with overstimulated nerves. It’s not just peeing. It’s like a second, slow-burning orgasm. Your body shakes with it, cunt fluttering around nothing, your legs twitching like Simon’s still inside you.

You gasp against him, trembling. It's not even about the release—it’s the aftershocks. The sudden emptiness as your muscles unclench. The way your cunt spasms around nothing as your body reacts to being let go.

Simon holds you tighter.

Your fingers grab fistfuls of his sweatpants.

His hands drop to your back.

“Easy, love. Just let it happen.”

Your knees buckle where they’re spread. You squeeze his sweatpants for balance, forehead still pressed to his stomach as you twitch through it—little pulses, flutters, everything still too much.

Your voice breaks. “Feels like—feels like I’m coming again.”

“I know.”

“Still—God, it’s still in my spine—”

You twitch again. His arms stay firm. He pets down your back, anchoring you, holding you upright as your body finishes unwinding in slow, shaking pulses.

And you do. You feel everything. His hands rubbing your back. The warmth of his chest under your cheek. The way he steadies your thighs when they jerk.

And when it’s over—when your breath evens out, and the spasm finally dies down, you just stay there. Arms weak. Legs numb. Whole body ruined.

Simon strokes your back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did perfect.”

“I’m mad at you,” you mumble, voice muffled in his skin.

“You always say that.”

“You didn’t have to go so hard.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘don’t stop.’”

You groan. “I was lying.”

“You were begging.”

You slap his thigh half-heartedly. “I hate you.” He grins and helps you stand, supporting you like your knees might give out again—which they might, honestly.

You lean on him as he cleans you up, wipes you with practiced tenderness, and carries you back to bed without another word.

Once there, he slides one of his shirts over your head, tucks you under the blanket, and stretches out beside you with one arm around your waist.

Your face is buried in his chest. His heartbeat is slow, steady, solid.

[occasionalklance]

in the interest of not going another week without buying groceries, i am officially banned from writing until this fridge is STOCKED

[rafesangelita]

♡ frat!rafe loves to turn you into a mess by pushing down on your tummy while he’s fingering you

warnings: fingering, squirting, crying, dirty talk, overstimulation, pussy slapping, finger sucking

a/n: i’m not sure if the linked ask was sent in for my follower celebration but i just went ahead and included it <3

you blinked up at the soft pink ceiling of your bedroom, your vision growing fuzzy as tears brimmed your eyes. rafe had you lying back against your plush pillows, your legs spread open as he forced your thighs apart with a grunt. running his digits between your slick folds, rafe watched with a teasing smile as you squirmed underneath his touch. “you’re so fucking wet already, just look at his this,” your cheeks burned when rafe brought his hand up and showed you his glistening fingers, “all sticky and messy just for me, hmm?” you couldn’t help but whine, your stomach erupting in a fit of butterflies as he reached down between your legs once again.

watching you lose yourself from his fingers alone was something rafe took great pride in, he couldn’t help but do this to you every chance he could get. thrusting two fingers inside your needy pussy, you gasped, your back arching off of your comforter as rafe’s palm grounded into your poor clit. “oh!” you cried out, his arm moving with vigor as he fucked you knuckles deep. rafe’s jaw clenched as he kept his eyes trained on your glossy cunt, your juices spewing out from your sopping hole. “shitttt—” he marveled, his cock growing hard in his boxers, “do you hear that? do you hear how fucking soaked you are?”

digging your nails into the white lace of your stockings, you shuddered, your body jolting when rafe ran the tips of his fingers over your sensitive bud. “g-gentlegentlegentle!” you squealed, your chest rising and falling as he did the exact opposite. giving your clit a soft pinch, you screamed when he landed multiple slaps to your sticky folds, your thighs instinctively shutting around his hand. you couldn’t speak, your breaths coming out in shaky huffs as rafe rubbed you into a mind numbing orgasm. “please—” you heaved, your eyes shutting tightly, “rafe!”

forcing your thighs open, rafe pressed down on your lower tummy, the pressure forcing a pained shriek to fall from your lips. digging your heels into your sheets, your hips bucked as he added a third digit, his fingers practically hooking you onto his hand as he thumbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. you took ahold of his wrist, your body wracking with the pure unadulterated pleasure coursing through your nerves. “wait!” you gasped, feeling an unfamilar pressure building up in your core, “i think i’m—” you didn’t get to finish your sentence before a stream of wetness flowed out from your cunt, a broken sob ripping itself from your chest as rafe cursed at the sight.

you hid your face in embarrassment, your bottom lip trembling as overstimulation began to set in. “no more, ray—” you hiccuped, “s’too much..” for the first time tonight, he gave into your request, a hiss leaving your lips as he finally slid his fingers out of you. curling in on yourself, you shook and trembled as rafe moved your hands away from your face, his digits prodding at your swollen lips. “suck them.” blinking rapidly, you could barely hear him over the beating thrum of your heart, your lips parting as you welcomed his glistening digits into your mouth.

jaw falling slack, rafe watched as you batted your eyelashes up at him, your tongue swirling around his fingers as he took himself out of his boxers. “mmm, you did so good,” he praised, “now do what you’re doing right now to my cock.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[ghost-bxrd]

The cat is fucking weird, is the first thing Jason thinks when he dumps the yowling ball of fur on the ratty couch. It’s weird, and it stinks like somebody dumped it in a heap of trash.

And honestly, that last part is probably what ended up compelling him to take the antagonistic little shit with him. Jason wouldn’t call himself some kind of animal whisperer, no. That stuff’s reserved for Disney Princesses, please and thank you. But something about the skittish black cat he’d spotted scarfing down the pitiful remains of an abandoned burger, smack dab on the filthy ground behind some diner in Crime Alley, had resonated with him.

It’s a new low, Jason can admit. Identifying himself with a stray cat. But whatever, ‘s not like the cat’s about to tell anybody about it. This can be Jason’s good deed for the decade or something. He’ll just treat the cat to some quality tuna, make sure it stops limping (he definitely saw it favoring its left front paw before it spotted Jason) and hope the thing doesn’t try to smother him in his sleep like he’d read in some obscure Reddit article.

The cat hisses at him, blue eyes glinting in the warm light of the singular light bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling. Jason considered getting chandelier when he moved in, but then thought better of it when he remembered that this isn’t supposed to be a home. Just a safehouse. And chandeliers look stupid anyway if you don’t have the manor to go with it.

“Crime alley born and bred, huh?”

The cat growls.

Jason snorts, unholstering his weapons to line them up neatly on the kitchen counter, “Yeah, makes two of us, buddy.”

He reaches into one of the cupboards, rummaging around until he feels the curved edge of what he hopes is something cat approved. He thinks he remembers Selina remarking on cats being strict carnivores, usually. But honestly if this one survived in Gotham until now it could probably consume Joker venom and still be fine, so whatever.

The can he pulls from the cupboard turns out to be sardines, not tuna like he’d hoped. But it’s fish and it’s definitely not expired, so it’s leagues better than whatever the cat had to survive off of until now. Probably. Who knows, with that size the thing might have eaten a couple dogs.

“Sorry,” he tells the cat, studiously ignoring the angry hiss and raised hair making the feline appear thrice its size as he puts the opened can on the floor, “‘S all I got for now. Nothin’ special, but I ain’t exactly planned on a guest tonight.” He huffs, “Or any night, really.”

The cat doesn’t move from its defensive position, its eyes wide and moonlike in the way they’re fixated on Jason, eerily intelligent.

He shrugs and turns to fill all shallow cup with water and puts that down too. Food and water, he can manage that much. It would be fucking embarrassing to try and nurse a stray back to health only to have it die because Jason forgot to water it. He does not need a repeat performance of the potted plant incident.

Now he’s just gotta figure out what to do about the kitty toilet.

“You’re already a pain in my ass,” he tells the cat conversationally, reaching up to press at the latches of his helmet, “I should call you Batman.”

The cat seems to narrow its eyes at him, whiskers twitching.

“Yeah, he always does that stupid thing where he looks like someone stuck a stick up his ass too. And, fuck me, you also got the color scheme down. It’s just meant to be.”

Jason pulls the helmet off with a sigh, taking a deep lungful of unfiltered air for the first time in several hours and runs a hand through his sweaty bangs.

He loves his helmet, he really does. It’s one of his favorite inventions hands down, but the breathability still needs some work before he sets his major plans in motion. He refuses to reveal himself to Bruce looking like a chewed up hedgehog.

The domino comes off next and is promptly discarded on the counter along with the helmet before Jason shrugs out of his well worn leather jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the barstool.

Fuck that feels good. Nothing like coming home after a hard day of work.

Jason turns back to the cat with a small grin, “Alright, Batman. Be a good kitty and don’t piss all over the furniture while I take a shower okay?”

The cat just stares at him, stock still. It’s a bit unnerving.

“I really hope that’s you agreeing with me here, buddy. Gutter trash gotta stick together. And I’ll even throw in a good tuna brand for you tomorrow. Or milk. Or whatever counts as a treat to a cat.”

The cat just stares.

Newly crowned Crime Lord Red Hood stops in an alley. There’s a black cat there, lots of fur where he looks bigger than a normal cat. It’s eating a burger on the ground. It reminds Jason a little bit of himself. All alone, fending for itself.

Jason takes it back to his primary safe house with him. And it’s a cat, so he takes off the helmet and the domino around the fluffy animal. He chuckles to himself when he named the cat Batman.

And for two weeks, he had no idea that the cat was, in fact, Batman.