#i'm fucking desperate

[muffin-gods]

I played acnh for the first time in 2 months a few days ago to decorate for Halloween and it's making me want to post my headcanons and human designs for my villagers sometime soon. Also happy birthday Raymond <3

Also I still have 2 unwanted villagers on my island and I'm trying to replace them with Marshal and Tasha. So please for the love of god if you have either of their amiibo please message me. I'll pay you in bells or nook miles tickets or something damnit.

Also please reblog lol

[darlinqs]

have any of u tried better help does that thing actually work

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

guuys does anyone have that "me and my fav" image that's a guy goving another guy backshots. I CAN'T FIND IT I NEED IT

[luminialib]

Please come visit me in my dreams and tell me that you are resting and alive and you are just taking a vacation PLEASE LARISSA—

Dreaming of You (Larissa Weems x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You've been dealing with prophetic dreams your whole life, but when a certain face keeps popping up, you find her in an unexpected place

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of car accidents, mentions of being disowned, swearing, lil bit of smutty stuff

You’d been plagued by odd dreams for as long as you could remember. It had taken a long time to realise exactly how odd they were. You’d see things happening in your dreams weeks or months in advance of your waking life, leading you live in an almost constant state of deja vu. Telling your parents, they’d been brushed off, considered nothing more than an overactive imagination.

That was, until you’d dreamt about your father’s death. You saw it playing out in front of you, the car speeding towards him, out of control, weaving over the road, the impact of the hood against his body, bouncing over the top, left for dead on the road. You’d woken up screaming, images of his blood pooling on asphalt stuck in your brain.

Two months later he was dead.

You hadn’t ever expected your mother to lay the blame of his death at your feet. She’d accused you of causing it, of being a witch, of bringing this all down on her. She’d sent you away to live with a distant aunt.

You’d never spoken about your dreams to her.

Instead, you’d immersed yourself on the internet, doing as much research as possible. You’d gone down rabbit holes, chasing ghosts of people who might be like you. So much of it was bullshit. Until you stumbled across a mention of Nevermore on an old forum many years later.

That was the night the dreams started.

Fingers tangled in silver hair between your legs, tongue lapping at your entrance, pleasure building. You awoke with a gasp on your lips and a throbbing between your legs.

Every night since then you dreamt of the same woman, sometimes gloriously naked, sometimes between your thighs, sometimes smiling at you or laughing. Every single time you woke with an ache in your heart and a need you couldn’t express in words. More often than not you woke unsatisfied, your hand not nearly as welcome as the woman in your dreams.

No name, no clue of who she was or where you might find her, the dreams plagued you in your waking life. Glimpses of your future, still out of reach, but so desperately wanted.

Continuing your search you found Nevermore’s website. A school. You hadn’t been expecting that, but you watched and waited, for what, you didn’t know. This, you knew, was where you were meant to be. It felt right.

It was a gloomy morning when the notice went live. A teaching position had opened up, calling for someone with an understanding of the divine. You sent in your application, knowing it was a long shot, and waited.

All of which led to you standing in front of the door to Principal Weems’ office on your first day as the new teacher. You’d flown through the interview, accepted the position, and moved to Vermont.

You raised your fist, knocking on the wooden door. A woman’s voice called out, asking you to enter. With a deep breath you pushed the door open, stepping over the threshold into the warm office, and froze.

Seated behind the desk, looking up expectantly at you, was the woman from your dreams. Your breath caught. Even if she wasn’t your future, you’d want her to be. Such beauty had no business existing in the world. Your heart was already yearning for her.

“Welcome, “she said standing from the desk. You could have collapsed there.

You walked over as if in a daze. She held her hand out to you and you took it, the first brush of skin sending an electric current through you. You knew that touch, knew what those fingers would be capable of. You were ready to drop to your knees in front of her.

She said your name, the sound of it enough to steal your breath. You’d heard that voice say it, moan it, scream it as you brought her pleasure. You’d heard her whisper it into your skin, heard her caress it with untamed love, heard her say it with a laugh. You wanted her to keep saying it until you came undone in front of her.

“I’ve heard you have premonitions of the future,” she said, retaking her seat, gesturing for you to take one of the chairs in front of the desk. You lowered yourself on wobbly knees, doing your best not to show how much you were trembling.

“Yes, dreams mostly, although I’ve had success with tarot and crystal balls,” you replied.

“I suppose you saw yourself teaching here,” she said with a smile.

“Only metaphorically,” you said, “no premonitions, just a wish.”

“Indeed?” Her brow raised.

“I haven’t met others like me before,” you said, “or at least not that I know of.”

“Yes, some abilities are not as obvious as others,” she said, “I’m glad to have you on our staff.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been informed you’ve already been shown to your quarters,” she said, “I must apologise. I usually try to do the introduction. However, a student left a rather unfortunate surprise in the kitchen we were unaware of until now.”

“Kids will be kids,” you said with a shrug. The thought of her showing you the room you’d be sleeping in was too much. Her and a bed being the same room would lead your mind down a dangerous path of memories.

“Yes, quite,” she said, “well, if you have any issues, please do not hesitate to call on me. I look forward to seeing your work.”

She stood, offering her hand again. You took it, hoping the shiver could be played off as nerves. Her eyes swept over you and you wondered what she saw.

You scurried out before she could look deeper, not wanting her to see what your dreams had shown you. You hadn’t been expecting that when you’d sought out Nevermore. You hadn’t known to prepare for it.

If you’d hoped for a reprieve from your dreams now you’d met the woman, you were sorely mistaken. Every kiss, every touch was burned into your brain, still following you in your waking hours. You could barely look at her without heat filling your cheeks and wetness collecting between your thighs.

On the last night before the students were scheduled to arrive you found yourself watching the sunset out over the water, legs swinging from the dock. Your head was tilted back as you let the cool breeze wash over your skin. A particularly wonderful dream was replaying in your head, one that didn’t leave a throbbing need between your thighs for once.

“You look rather peaceful.”

You jumped, having not heard anyone approach, so caught up in your thoughts. You blinked, turning to look up at the familiar towering figure. You hadn’t been avoiding her, per se. You were just never sure what to say around her.

“I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful here,” you replied, turning back to the sunset.

“You truly didn’t see Nevermore in a premonition?” You could feel her approaching you.

“No I…” She was making it hard to think, “I found the website online. It felt right, me being here.”

“I hope you continue to feel that way.”

You weren’t expecting her to drop down beside you, legs dangling off the pier, arm brushing against yours. It was the closest she’d gotten to you since your arrival, her floral perfume wrapping around you in a way that was familiar, and yet so much better than your dreams. You held yourself still, worried you’d lean into her if you didn’t.

“I’ve been hearing reports from other staff members that you’re settling in well,” she said, “that you’re a kind and conscientious team member. You appear to be fitting in well.”

“I’m trying.” You weren’t sure what else to say.

“It makes me wonder if I’ve done something wrong.”

You turned to look at her. Her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, and her lips were turned down. You hadn’t seen that look before, not in all your months of dreaming about her.

“How would you have done something wrong?” you asked.

“I don’t know. That’s why I thought I’d ask,” she replied.

“Of course you haven’t.” You shook your head, turning your gaze down to your fingers twisting together in your lap. You were already messing up your future.

“You treat me differently from the rest of the staff. You’re more distant with me.”

You didn’t bother disagreeing with her.

“Have you seen something that’s going to happen involving me?” she asked instead.

You felt your cheeks burn and your eyes darted up to her. She tilted her head at your reaction, leaning closer as her gaze swept over you.

“You have.” She didn’t need you to confirm it.

“It’s nothing bad,” you said, “or, at least, I hope you don’t think it’s bad. Come to think of it, it might not be welcome news. This is why I don’t often tell people what I see. They react badly, usually. But it’s not bad. I haven’t seen anything bad about you.”

“When did you have this dream about me?” She looked at you intently.

“Does it matter?” At least she thought it was only one dream.

“I’d like to know,” she said.

“Seven months ago,” you said.

“You told me you’d never had a premonition about Nevermore,” she said.

“I didn’t know you were Nevermore.”

You chanced a glance over at her. She was watching you and you could almost see the gears turning in her head. Your eyes flicked down to her lips, then away again, cheeks heating. You wondered if you’d ever be able to look at her without the flutter of your heart. Your dreams were saying no.

“What happened in this dream?”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think I should say,” you replied, “not everyone appreciates knowing what’s to come.”

“I’m asking.”

You took a deep breath in, turning to look at her properly. The words were ready on your tongue, ready to spill out. She was watching you with a soft look on her face, expectant and open. You could have melted right there.

“Please?”

You surged forward, grasping her face between both hands. You kissed her hard. She froze and you drew back. Your heart thudded in your throat and your eyes widened. Terror flooded your veins.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You got to your feet, spinning around, and doing your best to flee. A strong hand grasped your wrist, tugging you back. You tried to pull free but she only held on tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” you said again.

“I’m rather flattered,” she said and you braced yourself for a reprimand, “but I’m afraid that didn’t answer my question.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, still facing away from her. You couldn’t bare to look at her as you told her, spilling your secrets at her feet, hoping for mercy.

“I have been dreaming about you every night for seven months. Every. Single. Night. And we are clearly more than friends in them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you but every time I look at you I, the afterimages of those dreams are there. It makes it so difficult to keep my train of thought around you. And there’s no way it would be this difficult if you weren’t to fucking beautiful. It’s driving me crazy.”

The silence in the wake of your confession was deafening. You tried to pull out of her hand again but she was still holding on.

“Look at me.” She sounded breathless, “please.”

You slowly turned, scared to see what she’d do. Slowly dragging your eyes up to her face, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat. Her face was so soft, so full of wonder, cracked open to show the light inside her. There was a small smile curling the corner of her lips and her eyes were sparkling.

“I’m not expecting anything from you,” you said, “the future isn’t written in stone. It doesn’t have to go like that.”

“Darling.” Oh, that pet name would get you into trouble, “how about you kiss me again and we see what happens?”

You gaped at her. You had no idea how to respond. All you wanted to do was kiss her again.

“Darling?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You reached up, hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her down. The first brush of lips was questioning, needing to know this is what she wanted. Her hands grasped your hips, pulling you towards her.

She deepened the kiss, her tongue sweeping into your mouth. You moaned at her taste, knees turning to jelly. You should have known that she would be phenomenal at this, all your dreams pointing towards it. Her teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You gasped into her mouth, holding her tighter, wanting to thread your fingers through her hair but scared of ruining how perfectly she’d styled it.

You were gasping for breath when she drew away. Her perfect lipstick was smeared and her eyes were smouldering. Your fingers gently touched her kiss swollen lips, ghosting over them. You’d never seen something so beautiful.

“Perhaps you’d like to have dinner with me tonight,” she suggested, drawing back until you were no longer sharing the same air.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “yeah I’d like that.”

She began to walk towards the school, giving you a wonderful view. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her swaying hips.

“Oh, and darling.” She turned back to look at you over her shoulder, “I hope you know I’m planning on having you for dessert.”

Your mouth fell open before you chased after her back to the school.

[lotus-pear]

mourning black and the death of ideals

[tubbytarchia]

maybe. I hope you guys never stop asking for ranchers

[blushes-and-gropes]

I want a cute subby boy to fuck me while I cup his face with my hand and tell him how pretty he looks when he's inside me💞

[xitsensunmoon]

Tried to do the evil art style challenge (after all of these years...) And I hated every second of the process 😭😭 all the life was GONE from me by the end of it all(thus the meme lmao)

[windingpathways]

I'M PREGNANT AND NEED TO NOT BE. PLEASE HELP

fuck okay so I can't believe I'm making this post, but here we are.

despite birth control and my best efforts, i'm pregnant.

i can't handle this right now for a lot of reasons-- i'm going through a divorce, i'm deeply in debt due to the marriage i'm trying to end, barely staying afloat as it is working multiple jobs. i'm multiply disabled and so far have been EXTREMELY sick every day to the point of being unable to function. i don't have the time, money, physical and mental health, or resources to deal with a pregnancy, let alone a baby.

on top of all that, i have an infection they can't treat while i am pregnant, so they're trying to get this terminated as quickly as possible. i have an appointment set for Tuesday, 3/28/23 at 2pm.

my insurance does not cover abortions except in proven cases of rape or incest. all this to say, I need to somehow scrape together $600 by Tuesday for the abortion itself, plus cost of transportation. it's also been difficult to eat lately and i've been living off yogurt and the few other specific things i can keep down, so help restocking the fridge would be amazing.

i am of course gratefully accepting donations but am also just getting started as a content creator and i'm happy to do custom pics/vids etc as well.

c*shtag/v*nmo are both $wanderingivy

contact me privately for more info

please boost if you can

[deoidesign]

I'm so mad that post was misinformation because there is actually an EXTREMELY important conversation to have about the production schedules artists are forced into. There's no need for exaggeration, the conditions are bad.

I work for webtoon. My publication schedule is weekly. While publishing I'm required 10-15 pages a week. Fully colored.

This means I'm finishing a 150 page fully colored graphic novel every 10-15 weeks.

When my comic is not updating, I am not getting paid. Any time writing, editing, or off is out of my own pocket. I don't get healthcare. They do not provide any assistants. They expect me to promote myself; they chose to deprioritize me before I even launched and gave me an end date half a year in. I never had a chance.

And this is the industry standard! Every company has artists forced into crunch hours, overtime, and burnout. Artists are literally dying early due to it. So many of my friends can't afford to go to the doctor.

It's unsustainable and untenable, and it's also the expectation our audiences have.

If we want to have this conversation, there's plenty of conversation to be had with the realities of the situation. It's bad as is.

[yayll]

~ a little something about Beast Dazai and his inability to let you go ~

Your hand trembles as you're about to knock on the massive office doors and you wonder if you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You got too close working for this terribly lonely man, and now you're knocking at his door with the only solution you can think of to put an end to your silly infatuations that have gone on for longer than you'd want to admit and can possibly handle. You open the door slowly, and walk into the elegant and massive office space, your eyes falling right onto the dark haired man in all black hunched over the desk, scribbling away as if he didn't hear you come in. You walk quietly, and when you reach the wooden desk, your voice comes out soft and firm.

"Dazai, sir? I wanted to speak to you about something sensitive, if I may."

You chew on the corner of your bottom lip, but quickly compose yourself when you see the face of the man you've spent so much time with, the unfortunate love of your life. if it weren't for his Maroon scarf, he'd look like nothing but a black void. A burnt Black cat. He looks up, narrowed eyes scan you as he takes a sip of his tea, replying in a monotonous tone.

"What is it?"

"After much consideration, I think.. I need to leave the Port Mafia. We've worked together for quite a while now, and I can assure you it's not about the quality or enjoyment of my work. You don't even have to acknowledge this beyond me simply saying it, I just have to confess something that makes my heart ache. You make my heart ache. I know how unprofessional that sounds and that you have no use for such affections, but I can't keep pretending. It's why I think it's time for me to move onto something else otherwise my work will become disrupt-"

A lifted finger is shoved into your face, signaling you to stop, and so you do. Of course you do. You always had a habit of word vomiting when you were anxious. Dazai is staring down at his tea, and he stays quiet for a long time, trying to pick what emotion he can mask his real outraged ones with. Finally, he flashes you an unbothered look, his eyes half lidded as they taunt you. A cruel smirk curls onto his lips.

"Oh? What an awful time for your honesty! I'm currently drowning in work and responsibilities, ones that you're supposed to aid me with, actually. Thus, I have no use for your confession." He simply says.

You can feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You expected this. Looking down at your shoes, you chew on your lip again.

"I had to tell you.. Like I said, you can just forget about it."

"Well you see, that's the problem. I can't forget it. The moment you uttered those nasty little words to me, I realized I have to carry the weight of finding a new secretary. And I resent that."

He looks away for a brief second, his words are bitter and laced with what sounds like remorse and irritation.

You cross your arms and sigh, your voice comes out lower than your confidence.

"I just thought that we were... I suppose I should have never dared to assume you'd ever see me as more than a-"

He instantly leans over his desk, now placing a finger on your lip, his voice just above a whisper.

"... And though these feelings you have for me may be inconvenient, it doesn't mean that they're unwelcome."

He lets his finger rest on your lips for just a second too long, meanwhile you're frozen in place feeling like your chest is going to collapse in on itself. His voice becomes softer.

"Sit, please."

You sit down, now facing each other. It's quiet for a few moments as you both study each other's expressions. This form of intimacy was unusual to everyone else but the two of you, having spent countless hours in the past working across one another without uttering a single word, yet communicating in perfect sync. You were a part of each other's routines, a never ending spiral. Dazai feels himself teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something peeling away at his very soul. He's usually so arrogant and domineering, but in this instant, he suddenly feels an exhaustion wash over him trying to keep that going. He's kept it going for so long, he forgot that he doesn't like doing it with you. You don't deserve to be a part of all of this, and he doesn't deserve to want you.

Oh how he loathes his true identity: A simple man. A human man. Your man.

When he can't take it anymore, he slowly creeps his bandaged hand on top of yours, applying light pressure, but his eyes don't dare look into yours. Not yet. Finally, you break the silence, staring down with furrowed brows at the way your hands fit around one another. You mutter under your breath, tired of being vague.

"What are we to each other, Dazai? I mean really?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He snorts, trying to cling to the last of his cruelty but failing as he lets his emotions sway his judgement.

You sigh, flipping your hand over so that your fingers can fully intertwine.

"I just don't know how I could ever take up any space in your mind. I didn't think you noticed whether I stayed or left."

He looks up, flashing you a mildly offended look, his sharp eyes narrowing. He scoffs quietly, dropping your hand and standing up from his desk. He walks over to you, his full height now looming. He bends down and scolds you.

"What an obscene thing to say. You're invaluable. You have always been occupying my mind, every minute, every second, every microsecond. I always notice. I'd notice even if I was on my deathbed."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you finally manage to swallow the lump that's building up as you stare up at your reckoning.

"I just- I'd never try to leash you, sir."

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head slightly. You drive him mad with the way you don't realize what a dog he is for you. His voice comes out strained.

"You wouldn't need to. And don't call me that. You know my name, and as your superior l'm ordering you to address me properly."

Your cheeks flush, and you part your lips, letting out the breath you can't stop holding. A faint smile appears on your face, and you stand up slowly to meet him.

"You're like the moon, you know? You control everything like the tides. You control me, Osamu."

He shakes his head, and sighs deeply. If only you could see how wrong you were. He steps closer, moving his hand up your arm gently as he trails his way to your collarbone with ghost-like strokes.

"Did you know that sometimes when I'm laying in bed, all alone after a long day of controlling things, my only thoughts are about you?"

He confesses, sincerely. Dazai brings his face inches from yours, his voice now becoming a pleading whisper. His hand travels down to your waist, gripping it gently.

"Do you find it hard to believe that you bring me to my knees, the big scary Port Mafia boss? Because if so, you're a great fool! I love spending my time with you. I quite literally need you by my side in my times of need and at any random and mundane moment that passes. It brings me unimaginable joy when you nag me to get more sleep, especially when I don't listen because I can't wait to hear you say it over and over again. I don't like it when you have plans, or when you report to anyone else but me. I want you to stay with me tonight and every single night after and I don't care how awful this sounds. I don't care about you having a life outside of me."

Your throat feels tight, eyes wide at the fervor of his words alone. You reply with a shaky breath.

"Every single night after?"

"Every. Single. Night. After..."

"As if we were together?"

"We are together." He declares as if it were obvious this entire time.

Hearing Dazai be so blunt makes your mind fog over quickly, a whiplash of feelings that you never thought would ever see the light of day suddenly surface. He feels the same, realizing how much he's given away to you in such a short amount of time, but for him it's been rotting inside for years. He's been held together by the glue of your support too long not to kneel for you now. It's over for him, he's run out of masks to wear. He slowly guides your body backwards towards the opulent leather couch at the center of the room. You stop when you feel yourself backing up into the cool pebbled hide, and he slowly lowers you down onto your back with his arms supporting you. He delicately hovers over you, looking deeply into your eyes as he takes in the way your bodies feel against each other. For a moment he worries he might actually be trembling.

His breath hitches when you place a hand on the bandaged side of his face that covers his left eye. You stroke the fabric lightly, eyes twinkling with unfiltered adoration. He thinks about the only other person who's ever looked at him with such reverence, and how painful it is not to be able to tell his best friend he's in love. He leans into your touch, humming softly and closing his eyes as he molds his lips deeply into yours. It's not a kiss of sexual desire. This is a kiss born of romance and intimacy, a mutual oath of surrender. cold bandaged hands instinctively wander your body, starting at the waist down to your hips, and slowly exploring the plush of your thighs, kneading them. He runs them higher, lightly tracing your ribs with his index finger while the other hand cups your face. Dazai's mouth moves gently, and slowly pulls away from yours with a soft whine. His fingers trace your jawline as he stares at you. You taste like milk and honey. Like the moon and rain. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling like the night sky. You feel his heartbeat against your body. Every single pore of your skin is connected.

"Please— don't leave the Port Mafia, and don't leave me alone... Not tonight. Not ever. I'd become a tyrant without you."

"Is that also an order?" You murmur in between shallow breaths, dreamy eyes trained on him.

His eyes flicker over to your lips for a moment, then return to your eyes. His voice drops to something that resembles a soft whimper.

"Noo. No, it's not. I could never demand anything from you. But if you'll allow me to act selfishly, I just want to make you happy, to see you smile. I want you to keep greeting me with that tea you make every morning before our meetings. I also never want to hear you call me 'Sir' again. I am not your boss or your friend... I'm so much more than that. We've always been together. We will always be together— Is this too much?"

You shake your head, smiling uncontrollably at the way Dazai rambles in this moment, it's a side of him you've never seen in all the years you've known him. A stark contrast from the detached and cruel presence that frightens others on an almost daily basis. This seems like a person pretending to be the boss of the Port Mafia, an almost perfect imitation. You're not sure what barriers within him had to break for him to become the mushy and needy mess you see before you and what it all means in the long run, but you dismiss it for now. You get the feeling this might be the real Osamu Dazai. And that excites you.

"Never too much. I'm here and I'm staying. I would always stay."

He chuckles, it's a broken shaky laugh bordering on a sob. He buries himself in your neck, smiling against your soft skin, nibbling on it. He lightly runs his tongue against the mark he leaves, and slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours

"... I know you would. You always do."

You tilt your head, and hum in mild confusion at his odd little comment.

"Do you know something I don't?"

He flashes you a knowing smile and speaks prophetically as he lightly traces a finger over a large vein on your neck, following it down to your soft chest. He murmurs lazily while bringing his lips down to where he won't be able to get them off for the rest of the night.

"I know everything, silly.~"

The Port Mafia can wait, he's going home first.

[revvethasmythh]

Reminded again, as I periodically am, that there's a fair number of people in the fandom that think of Nott the Brave and Veth Brenatto as two different characters, and not fundamentally the same woman. In the absolute literal sense, this is false: Nott the Brave, returned to the body of her choice and using her real name once again, is absolutely precisely the same person she was before Caleb cast Transmogrification on her. This is, incidentally, one of her main sources of angst towards the end of the campaign! A part of Nott must have both feared (and, in some ways, hoped) that when she was changed back into a halfling, she would also be a different person. That the person she became traveling with the Nein would be an easy identity to shed, which she may have hoped for because it would be easier to fit herself back into her home life with Yeza and Luc--and because it would be easier to say goodbye to the Nein if that were the case. And she feared it because she liked this person she became, no matter how transgressive society would label her for it. And she loved the Nein and didn't want those feelings to be altered.

But she didn't change. Veth Brenatto is Nott the Brave and Nott the Brave is Veth Brenatto. This was always the point. That's why it's an anagram. It's just that when she's Veth Brenatto again, she is much more focused on the why of what she's doing. Why am I still with the Nein? Why am I still adventuring? Why do I have this reticence to return home to my family? Why don't I long for that quiet, domestic life the way I once did? Her emotional journey becomes intensely personal, sometimes subtly/quietly told, and wholly about what kind of future she wants for herself and how her choice could affect those around her. Her two families become anchor points pulling her in different directions and she has to deal with that. Which is a different story than what she was telling when she was still Nott the Brave. Nott's story was much simpler--I am a goblin and I hate it and I would like to be a halfling again. I would like to be able to be with my family again. It's straightforward and it's achieved! But that's not where it ends, because she still needs to figure out a real, functional future for herself once her goal has been achieved.

All this to say, I think when people say they prefer Nott over Veth, it's important to remember that you are reacting to a certain story arc for the character, not an entirely different character. It may also pay to ask yourselves why you think they're so different. Was "Nott" funnier than "Veth" to you? Does her ability to serve as comic relief fundamentally change whether you like her or not? Did you appreciate "Nott's" themes more than "Veth's"? Or did you even notice the themes being explored in Veth's later game at all?

[deliciousnecks]

WWDITS;; 5.02

[onesnoopyaday]

Snoopy #11

12/10/2024

[dragonpyre]

Young Justice au where post canon, Ra's decides to finally just dump Jason in the pit for whatever reason and now he has a screaming teen/adult on his hands that he kind of didn't prepare himself to deal with it

[itsshawtyfellas]

Y'all I just bought an eight inch dildo and that shit is SO GOOOOD I felt it in MY GUTS

Is it too much to ask? I just need a piece of this man (that dick), I want him to take care of me (rearrange my guts), to buy me gifts (fuck me senseless), for him to take me out on dates (to suck that dick til it falls), I want to feel his voice whispering in my ear (for him to eat my pussy), to cuddle me at night (to feel his fingers deep in my coochie) and for him to love and cherish me (to make me swallow all of his kids and birth them)

Is it really too much to ask?