#IT WAS A TABLE

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

I play D&D sometimes with my brother and/or his friends on his discord server and good god it’s so hard being the only bitch out here who plays D&D for the roleplay

[unpeeled-human]

one of my personal favorite tropes

[wiisagi-maiingan]

Hey, if you do crafts (especially things like crochet, knitting, embroidery, etc), make sure to look up how to identify when a listing is AI generated. You do NOT want to waste money on an incredible looking kit or pattern that is physically impossible to make, especially if you're on sites like etsy hoping to support an actual artist.

[legendary-lunatic]

‘Do Not Open’ is still one of my favorite episodes because of this absolute legend. He’s at the top of my list of badass people who survived encounters because they just ain’t with that shit.

An icon.

[donutdrawsthings]

People all over the world are thinking of you!

[beaft]

a small child came into the café today and asked to buy a chocolate truffle. he tapped a credit card on the reader and it did not go through, mainly because it was not a credit card but in fact a junior cinema pass. i gently explained he couldn't use that to buy things in shops and he looked so gutted that i was like "...but just this once you can have it for free, don't tell my boss though" he said thank you and walked out with his truffle and as he went i heard him chuckling to himself and saying "yes..... yes!!!!!" like the sickos comic

[marypsue]

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

[pangur-and-grim]

I'm turning 30 this month, and for some reason have become suddenly interested in material possessions. like what if,,,,,,,,my couch was nice. what if my sheets were nice. is this what happens to you??

[chiljax]

i just KNOW vanessa ships poolverine

[jaradraws]

‘Cause I was born with a hole in my heart Yeah, we were fucked from the start Tell me it’s inevitable that I’d End up with scars from falling Down, down We were always meant to fall apart

[cuntphoric]

you’ve been skipping class, flunking labs, and now you’re in his office with a bad throbbing ache between your legs and an even badder grade

you don’t even bother knocking when you walk into his office, because he’s the one who told you to “come in after hours if you want to fix this."

he’s lounging behind his desk like he always is, legs spread wide, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his chest. those ridiculous black sunglasses are perched low on his nose, and when he sees you he smiles.

“look who finally showed up,” he sighed, gesturing lazily to the stack of unfinished lab reports on his desk. “thought you’d given up.”

you shift awkwardly, heart pounding that you swore that felt like . “i just.. didn’t know what to say.”

“good thing you’re not here to talk, then,” he murmurs, pushing his glasses back up. “you’ve been slacking all semester. skipping lectures, half assing labs.. think i wouldn’t notice?”

you try to look apologetic, but it’s hard to think when he stands up and walks toward you, all tall, slow, and hot as hell. he stops when he’s just behind you, so close you can feel the heat of him against your back.

he stops just behind you. doesn’t touch. doesn’t even breathe too loud. but he’s there. close enough to set your skin on fire.

“so,” he says, voice lower now, almost lazy. “what are you gonna do to make up for it?”

you swallow hard. it’s too quiet in the room, and his words feel like a trap you’re already tangled in. “i don’t know,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to meet his eyes. “whatever you think is fair..”

he lets that hang for a second. then laughs softly. “you’re asking me to decide what’s fair?” his breath brushes your neck now, and you feel it—finally, his fingers ghosting over your hip like he’s testing how far you’ll let him go. “baby, that’s dangerous.”

you say nothing. can’t. your pulse is screaming under your skin.

he leans closer, like he’s about to bite out something cruel, but he doesn’t. just murmurs, “you walk in here after weeks of disappearing and tell me whatever i think is fair? you sure you wanna give me that kind of control?”

“i’m here, aren’t i?” you whisper.

his hand finally settles on your waist, grounding, a little too firm. “yeah,” he says. “you are.”

but he doesn’t move. doesn’t do anything, not yet. just lets the tension stretch and snap in the silence, dragging it out because he wants you to squirm.

“bend over the desk,” he says quieter now, “just so we can talk.”

you hesitate this time. you know what he’s capable of when you’re like this - open, stupid with need, desperate for something rough to erase the guilt of failing repeatedly pooling in your chest. but still, you lean forward, hands braced, chest against the desk’s cold edge.

he stands behind you but doesn’t touch. just talks.

“do you even know what you want?” he asks, tone unreadable. “or are you just hoping i’ll figure it out for you?”

your mouth is dry. “i want to fix it.”

he hums. “no, you want to get fucked and pretend that fixes it.”

your breath catches.

“you think showing up wet and pathetic is the same as putting in work?” he presses a hand between your shoulder blades, not to hold you down, but just feel you. “you think that’s gonna cut it?” he sighs.

can this man just do something—

oh. and then—then—you hear the belt.

you don’t hesitate. your hands brace against the cool wood as you feel him behind you, tugging at your waistband, baring you like you’re some toy he gets to play with when the lab’s closed.

and then you hear it. the soft click of his belt.

“count for me,” he says.

the first strike is loud and hot and sharp, making your hips jerk forward and your breath catch in your throat.

“one,” you gasp.

“you can take more than that, right?” he murmurs, and god, he sounds pleased.

he spanks you again, then again, harsh and slow, pausing just enough to let the sting settle before the next. by the seventh you’re trembling, thighs pressed tight, skin burning.

by the twelfth you’re dripping, trying not to grind against the desk to get some- any kind of friction. he leans forward, pressing a kiss just under your ear, voice thick.

“look at you,” he breathes. “all shaky already. i haven’t even fucked you yet.”

when he finally pulls his cock out, he drags the tip along your slit just to pull a reaction out of you and then he pushes in, all at once, no warning, making your body jolt forward as he buries himself deep.

he fucks you like he’s trying to drill the periodic table into your spine—slow at first, grinding deep, then picking up pace until the desk creaks under you. one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip, dragging you back onto him like he owns you.

“gonna fix that grade right here,” he pants. “maybe if i fuck you dumb enough, you’ll stop skipping class.”

you’re crying out now, clenching around him, brain static.

“f-fuck—professor—”

he groans, hips stuttering as he slams into you harder, until your legs give and your moans turn into needy whines. and when he comes, it’s with a low growl and a handful of your hair in his fist, cock buried so deep it feels like he’s made a mark inside.

you stay there, folded over the desk, skin warm and used, every nerve fried and twitching. the world’s gone fuzzy around the edges, and your thighs are trembling, stuck between the aftershock and the hot cum inside.

he slides out antagonizingly slow. his hands stay on your hips a second longer than they need to, thumbs brushing over the marks he left. then he leans in, and you feel the scratch of his stubble as he kisses the base of your spine—soft and mocking.

his voice is a low purr when he speaks.

“look at you,” he murmurs. “can’t even stand up straight.”

you groan, forehead still pressed to the desk, too gone to argue.

he pulls your panties back up with a tenderness that doesn’t match anything that just happened, then palms your ass one last time that felt too smug.

“extra credit approved,” he says, and when you glance back, he’s buttoning his shirt as if he didn’t just rearrange your guts.

the belt’s still hanging loose around his hips. his smile’s a little crooked. and he’s already reaching for a red pen.

[seratlantisite]

Nice try Bioware, but I know the state of Southern Thedas better than you do.

First off, it matters if the Hero of Ferelden is alive or not. When the First Warden recalled all wardens, our hero knew that was a bad call and refused, finally splitting off from Weisshaupt after years of mismanagement and taking scores of wardens with them. Their presence and leadership makes all the difference, rallying southern Thedas once more against the blight. If you have only an Orlesian Warden Commander in Amaranthine they’re less inspiring, but as long as you’ve done Awakening they are a boon nonetheless. There is someone to lead the fight against the darkspawn while other focus on the Venatori.

If you 100% completed Awakenings and also Soldier’s Peak, the Ferelden wardens have never been so prepared. They’re organized, they’re outfitted and they’ve been ready for this for years. Also, if you allied with the Architect then you have scores of strange research to give you an edge.

If Merrill completed her Eluvian then she moves south once again and joins the effort. She’s managed to cleanse the blight before and she’s ready to try it again. And her knowledge of the crossroads gives the south an edge on their movement and supply lines. If Hawke’s sibling is a Warden they accompanied her.

If the Inquisitor let Briala have power in any way, the Dales become the leaders in the war against the Venatori, forming a formidable alliance with Ferelden, Orzammar and the Marches, the likes of which have never been seen. And if you completed Jaws of Hakkon then their alliances with the Avvar and Chasind are stronger than ever.

Of course, if the Inquisitor kept the Wardens around after Here Lies the Abyss then their numbers are bolstered. It may cost Wiesshaupt later, but that’s Rooks problem. And if you completed the Descent, then the Inquisitor and Warden had a much better idea of what was coming and spent ten years getting ready.

They will not be broken.

They will weather this storm.

[grayeet]

pov you're bartering with some guy in hell and he hands you a sad crumpled baby.

[skecherss]

i bet Bruce recalls Dick's childhood super fondly and does not at all remember that his kid would try to stab him with a pencil if Bruce tried to "help" with math homework a little too diligently