#portion control automatic

[thecattitudecentral]

The Ultimate Guide to the SureFeed Microchip Cat Feeder: A Game-Changer for Multi-Pet Households

If you’re a pet parent in a multi-cat or multi-pet household, you know the struggle of ensuring each pet gets the right food, especially when one needs a prescription diet or has specific dietary needs. Food stealing, overeating, and the stress of constant supervision can turn mealtimes into a chaotic ordeal. Enter the SureFeed Microchip cat Feeder, a revolutionary device designed to solve these…

[shadowstep]

Over a year later and I still think about how the hell Kieran and Carmine’s eyes do that. They just instantly become devoid of light during certain portions of the DLC (usually when they’re hyped up or mad). And the worst part is Kieran most likely made his eyes like that for months between the Teal Mask and Indigo Disk.

Does it automatically activate when they experience high emotions? Is it when they become incredibly focused or attentive? Do they have conscious control over when or how it happens?

Are they just Hisuian Zorua or Zoroark in disguise???

I don’t think the game provided an explanation for this, so if you have any ideas I’m all ears 🤔

[galedekarios]

Since tressyms dont normally speak, and tara is noted to be able to speak common, when do you think that happened? do you think her and gale were speaking straight away after summoning her? also, do you think she was a kitten or an adult back then?

thank you for your message! 🖤

first off, it's true that tara is noted to be able to speak common. i still find it extremely funny that she pretends she does not when first meeting the protag and gale's other companions:

devnote: pretending she [tara] doesn't speak common

as well as gale translating for her, even though he most certainly knows she does in fact speak it.

as for your questions, i think there's a lot that goes hand in hand here:

do you think she was a kitten or an adult back then?

this is pure speculation, but gale says this when he first brings up tara:

gale: one time my parents denied me a kitten, so i summoned myself a tressym. dear old tara. beautiful creature.

i do think that based on what gale prefaces this with--wanting a kitten and being denied by his parents, thus summoning himself a tressym--we can assume that he summoned himself tara when she was in her kitten stage as a tressym.

(which i personally find extremely adorable, but also poor morena. a child genius on her hands, a kitten with wings and a magma mephit friend her son just summoned... (': )

the 'dear old tara' portion to me seems to be more reflective of the time they have already spent together at that point, highlighting gale's fondness for his tressym companion and, even though it's not specified anywhere in the game, i do think his familiar.

with that out of the way, it's easier for me to delve into the other questions:

tara is noted to be able to speak common, when do you think that happened? do you think her and gale were speaking straight away after summoning her?

it's true that tressyms usually do not speak common. they have their own language. the forgotten realms wiki has this on tressyms in their entry:

Tressym were highly intelligent, being a little above average human intelligence. They could not speak human languages, but had their own language, "tressymspeak", which was based on purrs and growls. [source]

however, if we work with the assumption that tara is gale's familiar (in-game he only ever calls her his companion and friend) and was intended that way (there were plans to not only include her in gale's origin playthrough, but with gale as a companion, and it would also further highlight how exemplary and unique his control of magic is since this is quite a feat for someone so young to achieve) then that would offer some more possibilities:

A familiar was a normal animal or similar creature that had been summoned to service by a sorcerer or wizard and magically bonded to the spellcaster, after which it became a magical creature and gained greater intelligence and new powers. The magical link between a familiar and its master was so strong that in some ways they shared a common existence. All familiars had special abilities of their own and also granted special abilities to their masters in return. All familiars were intelligent—not necessarily very intelligent, but more so than an animal. They automatically knew any skills that their master knew—though they might not be able to do those skills for lack of speaking or opposable thumbs, for example. They were able to understand Common, but most were not able to speak it. [source]

we learned from these entries that tressyms have above average human intelligence and that familiars were able to share in skills and knowledge of their masters.

we also know that tara is particularly intelligent and gifted, creating her own spells like the cat flap of displacement, which she uses to travel great distances:

Tara the Tressym: I'll tell her. With my Cat Flap of Displacement, I can afford the occasional visit. I'd bring you along, if I could. Perhaps some day.

and we also know that she was the one who found the solution for gale's condition, as temporary as that solution was, from his conversation during the tiefling party:

this is only tangentially related, but i do like to mention it here because i think it fits within that picture, but gale delights in learning and teaching. he seems to have learned ignan for his magma mephit friend (he teaches the protag a handful of words during his resurrection protocol and we know from his official character sheet he speaks a handful of other languages too). so i do think we can extrapolate from that fact that he would do the same for tara as well. learn and teach.

so in conclusion, looking at all of these different puzzle pieces together, i don't think it's a stretch at all to assume that gale either taught tara to speak common and she learned from him, and/or they both either devised or created a way for her to speak.

anyhow, i hope that was helpful! 🖤

[quiet-admirer]

You all know I love soft feedist themes - they're my ride-or-die constant in my personal kink life - but soft feedists have GOT to start doing some more reflection on the ways we talk about our kink because I am seeing post after post saying things like "I like soft feedism so much better than other kinds of feedism because only soft feedists want connection with their partner and treat their partner with respect and like they're a whole human being, and can balance kink and real life because of how wholesome and nice our kink is."

Not only is that super ignorant and condescending towards people who aren't into soft feedism, who are no more or less capable than you are at healthy kink practices and treating their play partners with respect and love, but it's also a really unhealthy pattern for so many members of our community to say things that reinforce the stereotype that hard dom/sub dynamics and fatphobia play are abusive or unhealthy, or that they are in any way excepted from risk-aware consensual kink (RACK) practices.

When these beliefs become widespread, it means people newer to feedism get the message that any abuse they experience from partners is par for the course if they want to engage in anything but soft feedism. If you're labeling soft feedists as the healthy, supportive, respectful feedists, it means you're ultimately dismissing a huge portion of feedists as 'barbarous' or 'beyond saving', and regardless of whether that's true or not, you're showing yourself as willing to abandon those feedees you see as subjecting themselves to abuse and disrespect instead of working to make sure that every single feedist knows that ALL feedism IS healthy, IS respectful, IS about connection and intimacy when the scene is over. Anything else isn't feedism: it's abuse, exploitation, harassment, rape culture, and fatphobia.

It's also extremely important to decouple in your head that any particular identity or way of being, whether it's identity labels that correspond with your kink fantasies, gender or sexual orientation, or anything else is *inherently* safe; trustworthy; and capable of healthy, respectful, and deep interpersonal connection. The fact that you like popping mini muffins into your partner's mouth in front of a fireplace instead of pretending to force your partner to funnel a weight gain shake doesn't mean you magically know how to communicate well, practice adequate aftercare, or listen to your partner's needs. It doesn't mean you are more knowledgeable about fatphobia. Preferring cuddling and gentle feedings doesn't make you a supportive person to be around or make you incapable of creating a controlling, hurtful, pressured, or shaming environment. We have to learn these things explicitly, we have to practice them, and we have to keep practicing them.

It does you and your potential partner/s a disservice to be actively creating these blind spots in your mind where you never have to examine your own actions or patterns of behavior because you're a Soft Feedist, so that means you're automatically "good." On a community level, you are creating a culture where abuse and mistreatment can go unchecked because "we're soft feedists so that means we're all nice".

That's a culture that makes it harder for people experiencing abuse and mistreatment to speak up. If abuse doesn't happen here, maybe I'm just imagining it and making a big deal over nothing. If abuse doesn't happen here, am I going to ruin the image of soft feedism if I speak up? Will people even believe me that another soft feedist could be mistreating me since everyone knows the people here are so nice and wholesome and care about their partners?

I'll say it again: ALL feedism is respectful, ALL feedism is consensual, ALL feedism is about mutual connection and intimacy, and ALL feedism means treating others as whole autonomous human beings. Claiming otherwise hurts all of us, including other soft feedists.

[velieditss]

Gilded Chains

Pairing: Modern!Gwayne Hightower x reader

Summary: Enduring a marriage of convenience with a man you despise, seems to be the price one must pay for a life of luxury, power, fame, and wealth. However, when a familiar face reappears, perhaps celebrating five years of marriage isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Cw: Porn with plot, 18+ minors dni!! overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, cheating, fingering, breeding kink, uhhh I think that's it.

An: Look who's back! This is one of the many surprises I have in store for you *wink wink*

Despite being the heiress to one of the most influential companies in the world, your life was a chaos you could barely keep under control. To the outside world, your family was the epitome of perfection: elegant, powerful, almost like royalty in the business world. You, the favoured daughter, not only carried the weight of that legacy but had also fought to maintain control of the family business after a series of poor financial decisions nearly brought it to ruin. But behind that gleaming façade, you were drowning in a sea of expectations and lies. You were tired of pretending to be someone you weren’t, of acting by rules you’d never chosen, and above all, of feigning love for a man you despised with every fibre of your being. Ormund Hightower, your husband, was nothing more than an opportunist who had seen in you a way to expand his family’s power.

That evening, on the fifth anniversary of your marriage, the air was thick with false smiles and uncomfortable questions. The absence of children was everyone’s favourite topic, and though you refused to engage, the guests’ curiosity was insatiable. The truth, known to few, was that your marriage to Ormund was a sham. You only shared the same space at events like this, where it was necessary to play the part of the perfect couple. Outside these occasions, he disappeared for weeks, leaving you in peace but also trapped in a lie that consumed you.

The Hightowers were a powerful family, owners of one of the most prestigious law firms in the world, Hightower & Associates LLP. For your family, the alliance with them had been a necessary strategic move. When the debts of the family business became unsustainable, the Hightowers stepped in, buying a significant portion of the company and helping to settle the debts in exchange for your marriage to Ormund. For you, that marriage had meant the chance to save your family’s legacy, but it had also made you a prisoner in your own life.

“Smile,” Ormund whispered, gripping your waist with a force that bordered on painful. “And stop looking like you’re at a funeral.”

You glanced at him sideways, resisting the urge to stomp on his foot with your heel. You adjusted the black dress you were wearing, an automatic gesture to mask the anxiety gnawing at you from within. Being next to him felt like reliving the worst moments of your struggle to maintain control of the company, when every glance judged you and every comment made you feel inadequate, even though you knew you were more than capable.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied coldly. “And I’ll wear whatever expression I see fit.”

You knew that response wasn’t what he expected, but you were tired of his demands. You weren’t weak; on the contrary, you were stronger than him. But you also knew you couldn’t act impulsively. Ormund had the power to strip away what little you had left of the family business. Although you still held a significant share, he and his family controlled the majority, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use it against you if you dared to challenge them.

“I could make the entire world forget you,” he murmured, wielding his favourite threat. “I could ruin your career in an instant and transfer all your rights to the company to your half-brother. And I don’t need to remind you how much he despises you, do I?”

You clenched your jaw, holding back the fury boiling inside you. It was the same threat as always, but this time it didn’t intimidate you as much as it once had. You knew you couldn’t divorce him without having something substantial to leverage against the Hightowers. You needed a strategy, something that would give you an edge in the legal battle that would inevitably follow if you decided to act. But for now, all you could do was endure.

“Behave,” he said, finally releasing you. “Here comes my family.”

You watched as your worst nightmare approached: the Hightowers. Not all of them were unbearable. You’d managed to strike up a friendship with his cousin Alicent, who, like you, was trapped in an arranged marriage. Though her situation was pitiable, she always said it was you who deserved more sympathy, for having to put up with Ormund.

“My son,” said Lynessa, Ormund’s mother, embracing him with exaggerated affection. Behind her, his father and uncle watched you with indifferent gazes. Clearly, you meant nothing to them.

Your eyes moved from one to the other until they met an intense blue hue you hadn’t expected to see there.

Quickly diverting your gaze to avoid showing your surprise, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to focus on the conversation.

Lynessa didn’t take long to fix her gaze on you again, her look laden with a subtle malice that only someone with years of experience in playing the game of perfection could sustain.

“It’s a shame you still don’t have children,” she commented, continuing to smile with that sweetness that was almost unbearable. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, but at your age, it would be quite natural to expect news of that kind.”

Her tone was kind, almost maternal, but her words fell like stones. Your jaw tightened, and the warmth of the smile you had forced vanished completely. You knew exactly what she was implying.

“Did you know I know an excellent doctor who works with couples who... well, have trouble conceiving?” Lynessa continued, never losing that sickening tone. “I’ve heard he’s very effective, even with complicated cases. I’m sure that with a little help, things would be sorted out quickly.”

A wave of fury surged through your body. Was she suggesting you were infertile? Was she insinuating that, if you had no children, it was because of some flaw of yours? If you could have, you would have screamed what you thought at her, but you held yourself back, reminding yourself that tonight, as irritating as it was, was just another episode in the theatre of your life.

“I don’t need you to send me to any doctor,” you replied, with a cold calmness that contrasted with the volcano of emotions swirling inside you. “The matter of children is... private.”

“Of course,” Lynessa replied, unperturbed. “I didn’t mean to be too direct, but I’m surprised you haven’t sorted it out already, with everything you have going for you.” Her gaze flicked to Ormund, who smiled without paying attention to what was happening, as though he were convinced everything was under control. “Of course, your husband has a history of... good health, doesn’t he?”

The insinuation was clear: the blame for not having children lay with you. A few more minutes of conversation, and the mockery would become too obvious. But you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much it affected you.

“I’ll do it when the time is right,” you responded, with a cold, controlled smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a bit of fresh air.”

You turned away before she could respond, leaving behind a visibly unsatisfied Lynessa. You knew the criticism and insinuations would never stop, but for once, you wouldn’t let them in. If anyone thought they could destroy you with little venomous words, they were mistaken. What they didn’t know was that you already had the last move in mind.

You walked briskly towards the terrace, seeking some calm. You needed a breath of fresh air before returning to the circus that was this party. But just before you could open the glass door, you heard a voice that made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Great battle. I always wonder how you manage to come out victorious from that woman’s words.”

You turned slowly, as though the familiar voice didn’t surprise you in the slightest. There he was, with his blue eyes fixed on you, a glass in his hand. Gwayne. The only person who could make the endless hours of this night bearable. Or, at least, more tolerable.

“I’ve been an expert at this since my husband came back from the airport,” you replied, letting out an ironic laugh. “Or maybe since he said ‘yes’ five years ago.”

The response slipped from your lips without much thought, but Gwayne’s gaze didn’t go unnoticed. His blue eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and something more.

He always seemed able to read between your words, to see what was beneath the surface.

“Why are you here, Gwayne?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admitted, taking a sip of his drink as his lips curved into a faint smile. “But someone begged me to attend, and I can’t refuse such a desperate request.”

That smile of his, that mischievous spark in his eyes. The invitation had been yours, the pleading too. As for why... well, that was a secret only the two of you shared.

Your breath caught in your throat as your pulse raced wildly. A bolt of heat coursed through your skin, electrifying every pore and resonating deep within your veins.

The memory of his mouth on your neck, the touch of his tongue against yours, consumed your mind, transforming every detail into an intense and forbidden pleasure. An unquenchable fire burned in your blood, growing and expanding within you, like a flame that consumed everything in its path. In the darkest corner of your mind, something stirred, something you couldn't —nor wanted to— control.

It was a feeling unknown, a desire you had never felt for anyone else before. Each gasping breath you took seemed insufficient, superficial, while the pain of longing settled in your chest, oppressive and burning. Tension coiled within you, growing until it reached a point of unbearable agony.

Suddenly, a sound burst forth from Gwayne, a deep, guttural growl that rang in the air. Then he pushed you with force against the tempered glass door of Ormund's office, a door designed to hide what was happening inside. That door, once the source of your anger, now filled you with a strange sense of gratitude.

His mouth slid down your neck as his hips pressed against your belly with a urgency that left you breathless. You could feel him, imagine him inside you, your desire and his intertwined in a whirlwind of passion. A wave of moisture coursed through you, causing your thighs to tense and your hips to move almost of their own accord.

You heard him inhale a ragged breath, and then his words reached your ears, heavy with a need that shook you:

"I can give you that child," he murmured, his voice deep and seductive. "They will have your blood and the blood of a Hightower," he said, his eyes widening again, as dark as the deepest sapphire. "Which one?" he said. "That doesn't matter."

He stopped just inches from your mouth, his hand gripping your hip firmly. But these were not the hands of a jailer, but those of a lover, someone who knew the art of satisfying the deepest desire.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your whole body tensed. You knew you should say no. There were a thousand reasons to do so. But the words that escaped your lips were different, spoken in a sensual voice you barely recognized as your own:

“Could you live knowing that child would call another man father?” His hand slid over your belly, exploring the exposed skin at your left hip. You watched him smile, a malevolent expression that made you shiver.

“Imagine if that child were like me” he whispered, his voice heavy with provocation. “With such a strong resemblance that there could be no doubt about who the true father is.”

You could barely breathe, barely think. Your desire grew in time with your unstable heartbeat, and you realized that the fire was still burning. You wanted him, right or wrong, just as you had wanted him for so long. With vague awareness, you nodded.

As he ground his hips against yours with a desperate, almost feral hunger, your mind reeled at his words. The forbidden promise of being bred, of carrying his child, sent a dark thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

Without hearing any objections, he pulled you towards him, adjusting you against the curve of his hips. Your dress had slipped down slightly, and now only his pants separated the curve of your ass from his erect member. You bit your lip as he slid his hand up your thigh and lifted your leg, guiding you effortlessly onto the desk. He deposited you gently on the cold wood, brushing the hair from your face to caress your cheek. His hand traced your side, traveling up your arm before descending again.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have had the pleasure of seeing”, he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. Brave...”

The fabric slipped a little further, revealing one of your breasts. You felt the blush spread across your cheeks as you saw the evidence of your desire in the erect nipple. His hand closed over your breast, and a muffled cry escaped your lips as his thumb traced slow circles over the peak. You arched your back, seeking his touch, seeking him.

“Strong and fucking stunning,” he whispered, as his hand descended further, passing under your navel and over your bare hip, until it reached the moisture that had accumulated between your thighs.

His fingers found you, and his caress was like a red-hot brand, electrifying and burning. He slid a finger along your center, with slow, playful movements that made your whole body tremble. He continued with those feather-light caresses until you felt like you were going to explode, like your skin could not contain so much intensity.

Then he pushed a finger inside you. You threw your head back, and a choked sound escaped your lips as the world around you faded away, leaving only him and the fire that consumed everything in its path. You needed him as much as he needed you...

"Nobody could reach a beauty like yours," he murmured through gritted teeth, pulling his finger nearly all the way out before sliding it back in slowly.

He angled his hand so that his thumb danced across your sensitive bundle of nerves, as that long, talented finger of his continued pumping steadily, in and out, stealing more of your breath with every thrust. His other arm wrapped around you, crossing over your heaving chest. He closed his hand over one of your aching breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he pushed a second finger deep inside you, stretching your walls and stoking the flames within you even higher.

You let out a sharp cry, pressing yourself against his hand, against him. His breathing came in harsh bursts as he watched, entranced, as you undulated and clenched around his fingers with each skilled movement. You were slipping into that blissful sensation, surrendering to it gracefully.

All the while, his hips never ceased their relentless grind against yours, the thick ridge of his arousal throbbing insistently against your core. He hooked one of your legs around his waist, opening you wider, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds through the fabric of his trousers.

"Tell me you want this," he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire. "Tell me you need to feel me inside you, breeding this sweet cunt." His fingers found your slit, stroking through the slick heat, teasing your entrance with a maddening lack of penetration.

"I want it," you keened, too far gone to deny him or yourself any longer. Gwayne began to turn his body, creating some space between you both, but you reached out and closed your fingers around his hip, digging your nails in with a silent plea.

He swore under his breath and let out a low groan, his lips brushing against yours as he thrust his fingers deeper, harder. Your hips rocked against his, though there was no rhythm to your desperate movements as you both writhed and undulated. The coil of tension in your lower belly tightened and tightened.

Slowly, he extracted his fingers, but his hand didn't stray far. It slid upwards, pausing just beneath your navel as he tugged both halves of your robe apart to leave you bare and shining in the candlelight.

Completely exposed to him, he drank in the sight of you, his gaze roving hungrily over your glistening skin. Your breath caught in your throat as desire, thick and heavy, pulsed through your veins. Unable to resist, you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a searing kiss that branded your very soul.

You tore at his clothes with desperate fingers, baring his skin inch by delicious inch, following the same path he had carved upon yours. The heat between your bodies blazed hotter, more urgent with each scrap of fabric removed.

He took one of your legs, positioning it to grant him the access he needed as he loomed above you, holding his weight above your body with one arm. The other hand traced a scorching path down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Breathe," he taunted with a wicked grin as he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes blazing into yours with a hunger that stole the very air from your lungs.

But you couldn't breathe, not until you felt him pushing forward, stretching you, filling you so utterly and completely. A strangled cry tore from your throat as you arched off the wood, your nails raking down his back, urging him deeper, harder, faster.

It was a revelation, understanding why people lost their minds to this, to the exquisite pleasure of being claimed, possessed, owned utterly by another. Your pussy clenched around him, gripping his length like a velvet vice as he hilited your cries with his own, guttural groans of bliss.

He began to move, his hips driving forward with a power and strength that stole your breath away. Each thrust sent sparks of ecstasy ricocheting through your body, building the fire that consumed you until you were nothing more than a mass of sensation and sound, incoherent and unhinged with pleasure.

Your pelvis surrendered to his relentless pace, meeting each powerful drive of his hips with your own. You fixed your gaze on the spot where your bodies joined, watching in fascination as he claimed you again and again, driving into you with a force that left you breathless and wanting.

Your second release was unexpected and insufficient, for far from appeasing the desire roaring under your skin, it gave it free rein, demanding more, much more.

Gwayne paused his intrusion for a few moments, possibly trying to drink you in while you experienced your climax. He leaned in to kiss you, hard and demanding, stealing the air your lungs were burning to regain. His tongue plunged into yours and they dueled again in a fiery duel for dominance.

You moaned into his mouth as his hips made a slow circle stimulating your sensitive cunt, before changing the intensity of his thrusts, which became relentless and impetuous, driving you wild again in less than two seconds and forming the knot in your lower belly, your muscles unfurling even more to accommodate the new rhythm. 

All you could register was the sound of his heavy breathing coupled with a harmony that you broke endlessly with a myriad of gasps, moans and other sounds that you sought futilely to stifle.

His rhythm became hard and rough, with his fingers wrapping around your neck and pressing where you knew your pulse was pounding as if it was on the verge of breaking from all the stimulation your body was experiencing.

You were about to cum for the third time and you were so ready for it. Your body screamed and you clenched your jaw to try to keep up with its rhythm, which was raspy and merciless. The knot inside you was about to break to unleash the seventh hell in which you would be happily burning. 

The wet sounds of your bodys filled the room, the slap of skin against skin and the slick glide of his shaft plunging into your clenching heat. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth to breathe. You felt it so close, but so close....

Then his thrusts became slow and deliberate. You opened your eyes and frowned, noting that he had done it on purpose to deprive you of what you craved.

He was looking down on you from his high route, above you, with a few blond hairs sticking to his forehead and his face slightly flushed. He held his weight with one of his hands and let out the sigh of a laugh as he looked up into your face.

He leaned down to lick the surface of one nipple before stroking his finger across your lower lip.

"Wrap your legs around my waist" he ordered roughly, followed by your name and that was enough for you to obey him without replying, set on fire like a torch. 

Your legs were slipping in the sweat on his back and hips, so you locked them around him tighter. You let out a loud moan as he entered you again, so deep that the sensation was invigorating and sent sparks throughout your body. 

He rammed into you again in the same way: raw, hard and insane, so insane that the pressure in your belly threatened to break you whole; making you contract every time his deft thrusts hit that exact spot where all pleasure was concentrated.

You were aware of nothing; neither of the gasps that converged into cries of need nor of the desperate way your hands clutched at his shoulders, clawing at his back or fisted the the edge of the desk to try to keep you anchored to this earth.

"I want to feel you" he demanded through gritted teeth next to your ear, his breath hitching as he ran his tongue down your neck. "Please."

And so you plunged into a torrent of pleasure, a raw desire there would have been fervent that didn't take long to explode. 

You gasped in desperation

"Gwayne..."

Stunned, you trembled beside him, you felt him as he felt you. 

You opened your eyes only to find that blue, now sapphire that enchanted you to touch the chasm that consumed them.

You fell back against the wood, with only the rasping of the fire and the heaving of breaths.

In a heavy and wondrous burden, you released your arms from your death grip on him so that your mind could once again become active and work. 

You looked at him for a moment. Before he met your eyes. Without saying anything to you, he tugged on your dressing gown and carefully helped you put it back on. There was something in that act that seemed... tender.

"Thank you..." you murmured and he didn't suppress a half smile. 

"You're welcome," he replied and you dropped back. "It was my pleasure..."

You looked at him with narrowed eyes but amused.

"Are you going to start already?" you asked sarcastically.

"Whenever you ask me to, princess" you laughed and shook your head.

"You'll never change." 

Masterlist

[iwoulddieforher]

Casey cannot speak Latin | Casey Novak/Alex Cabot

Summary: Alex and Casey have been making out for the last couple weeks, this time they encounter a slight hiccup and Alex for some reason decides the issue is best addressed in Latin. Essentially just 2k words of kissing. and emotions. but mostly kissing.

Slight trigger warning for mentions of Alex's shooting & topless women but they're not fucking (rn anyway)

Casey's lithe fingers traced idle patterns on the lower portion of her ribcage, the copper headed attorney too distracted by Alex's mouth eagerly on her's to pay attention enough to do anything else.

What felt like minutes later, they finally broke apart to breathe, panting, Casey's face flushed from breathlessness in a way that made Alex laugh softly and land another soft kiss on the bridge of her nose. The copper headed attorney slid her fingers along the edge of Alex's shirt- a real shirt today, not a blouse as usual. It was a nice shirt, sure, but Casey thought to herself it would look much better on the floor.

"Can this come off?"

Alex hesitated, hard, as Casey toyed with the hem of her shirt. She never let anyone see her bare-chested- not in the past years, anyway- even with the men she fucked on occasion, she just undid the top buttons of her blouse, and they were normally satisfied with that degree of cleavage.

And she wasn't fucking Casey, no. After difficult cases they simply needed a little reassurance and they'd lock themselves either one of their offices, Casey would yank the blinds while she turned off the lights, and they'd tangle arms and lips and occasionally tongues and find some sort of solace in despite depravity of the world they were constantly reminded of. It was hard to wallow in misery and pity with a woman as ethereal as Casey pressing a line of kisses down the curve of her neck, hard to think of anything at all when the redhead's hands were cradling the base of her skull in desperation to kiss her deeper. She assumed Casey felt the same, lest be confused why she allowed this to keep happening. It was always Alex who pulled her in first, pushed her gently up against a wall or a couch or a chair or a desk, and although Casey sometimes made to switch the position so she could feel the blonde arching against a wall, Alex was always somewhat the reason it had started and was continuing. It gave her some degree of control that Casey apparently did not mind indulging her in. Evidently Alex was the needier of the two, and Casey resigned herself to serve.

Casey had never requested anything similar before- actually, Alex was unsure if she had ever asked anything of her at all. Alex felt mildly guilty- she had stripped the younger of her dress shirt before so that she could run her fingers along the muscles of her back and her arms and lavish her body in gentle attention, and she wasn't sure she had even asked or if she had went for it and Casey complied automatically as a natural progression, but now Alex was shifting in her seat and not in the good way at her request.

She had never thought twice about what Casey had previously been doing- running her fingers along the costal cartilage of her lower ribs, tracing the patterns of the anatomy beneath Alex's skin, and she did immensely enjoy the feeling, so there was no need to. Casey had done it before, too, and it was a staple in their interactions now.

"Qui prodest?" She questioned weakly, without thinking, hearing her own voice raspy, "Hoccine quid opus est?"

Casey's hands dropped immediately, before raising just enough to tug Alex's shirt back down where it had been ridden up on her hips, smoothing out the fabric delicately. God, Alex missed the feeling of her fingertips the second she felt them leave.

Who benefits, Alex had just asked her, before following it up with a murmur in Latin that translated roughly to 'is this what is needed'. Casey's head reeled slightly, a crease appearing between her brows as she grew slightly concerned.

Casey had absolutely no idea why the elder had said that in Latin- maybe the shame and the panic she could see in the curves next to Alex's eyes and between her eyebrows felt less real if she spoke in a language that no longer really existed. Maybe she just wanted Casey to understand how stressed she felt. Maybe she was using the language of scholars to emphasize the importance she felt this had. Regardless, Casey's heart ached to console her.

"No," Casey said slowly, wishing she had paid a bit more attention to her highschool English teachers, "non opus- not at all, Alex. Not needed." She bit her lip hesitantly. In the back of her mind she hoped Alex would not continue speaking in Latin because if she was honest she didn't really understand that much of it, let alone be able to formulate intelligent responses in the dead language.

"Nisi quia," Casey started, 'unless because', hesitantly, noting how Alex wasn't meeting her eyes and momentarily panicked she wasn't saying the right thing, "voluntas tua." 'It is your will.'

Alex didn't respond, but her eyebrows softened after hearing Casey's low hum, so Casey tried to continue. "Your pleasure is my priority, Alex." She breathed, in English, because very honestly she had no clue how to translate that, "I don't want to do anything that would be only for my benefit. I only feel good when and because you do-"

The blonde attorney cut her off by pulling her into an embrace, her arms lacing around Casey's shoulders to bring her head to her collar. She made a small strangled sound that was entirely unlike her usual demeanour, and Casey felt like this was probably as close as Alex would come to crying in front of her.

Casey immediately returned the motion, her hands interlocking with each other behind Alex's body while she left the other woman's hands balling the fabric of Casey's shirt in her fists. Alex's head rested on top of Casey's shoulder, Casey's forehead in the crook of Alex's neck, intentional because Alex did not want to feel Casey's eyes on her but lord she needed her close.

"Casey, I'm-"

"I hope you're not about to say you're sorry, because you shouldn't be, there's no reason to be. You never have to feel sorry with me." Casey soothes, lifting her head to kiss the side of Alex's face softly. "You're okay."

"It's just-"

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want too-"

"Hush," Alex interjected, overriding her notion to cut her off again, and Casey obediently relaxed with an apologetic exhale against her neck, letting her continue with a "volo te scire hoc."

I want you to know this, she meant, so Casey stayed unmoving against her, although she did suck her bottom lip into her mouth to toy with it.

"I haven't let anyone other than my doctors see the bullet mark," Alex breathed simply, burying her head in Casey's hair. "Previous partners unbutton the top of a button-up enough if they want to see my breast. You can do that. But I know you don't want something as shallow as that. You want skin, and to explore me, and mine is- mine is broken."

Her words end in a loose sigh and she pulled Casey impossibly tighter, and Casey returned the pressure, now, much more gently in comparison to the desperation in Alex but tight enough to comfort her.

Alex held her tightly for a long moment, before she relaxed slightly, still in the embrace, for a longer moment, eventually leaning backwards with a sigh, allowing Casey to let go of her.

"Where is it, Alex?" Casey hummed, eyes flickering down to her clothes torso. Alex grimaced, hesitating, but Casey shook her head.

"You don't have to show me it. Just show me where."

Alex then understood what she meant, so with another flicker of anxiety she reached with one hand up, slowly placing her index finger on the fabric of her shirt, clenching her jaw as her mind wandered back to the trauma the place she indicated was lasting evidence of.

Casey caught her before her mind traveled too far, though, catching Alex's wrist to interlace her fingers with Alex's, Casey's other hand coming up to cradle Alex's cheek in a way she knew she liked to press her lips against the blonde's. Alex relaxed, returning the kiss, the hand not held by Casey traveling to rest on the crook of the copper headed woman's waist. Casey permitted Alex into her mouth, which the blonde reveled in, feeling a bit of power return to her blood at the small movements the redhead was making to accommodate her when she pushed forward just slightly.

Casey broke the kiss, a small strand of saliva connecting her lips with Alex's for a fraction of a second, before tilting her head to the side and connecting her lips to the edge of Alex's jaw, then again a few centimeters below, and then again in a pattern. Alex, caught slightly off guard, sighed a half-amused laugh.

"Perfectus es in oculus meis," Casey breathed, very proud of herself for remembering that one, in between peppering the column of Alex's throat in little kisses as the older attorney squirmed just slightly beneath the attention. It meant, and she echoed the translation in English regardless, "you are perfect in my eyes."

She paused, before realizing she didn't know enough Latin to really formulate anything else, so she just said, "You are not broken, Alex," and continued with her line of kisses down, reaching Alex's pulse point, which she kissed a bit firmer to feel the thrum of life under Alex's skin. "You are not broken." She echoed, her hand slipping down to the base of Alex's spine, encouraging her to arch her torso upwards so Casey wouldn't have to move away to continue the path she was running over, over and over again, in her mind, because she knew even thought she could take as long as she wanted (to a reasonable degree, the realistic part of her brain chimed) when she was done she wouldn't have had enough of her.

Alex paused her when Casey began kissing above the fabric, writhing slightly in a way that pushed Casey slightly off, and with shaky fingers fumbled for the hem of her shirt. Casey tried to shoot her a look that conveyed the fact she was not asking for that, she didn't need it, and if Alex only was providing her with what she thought she wanted she really didn't want that, but Alex shook her head.

"Plus quam dolor sit fiducia," Alex breathed, and at Casey's momentarily blank expression, she tilted her head back and laughed. "Trust is- it's- I trust you, and that's worth more than pain. Please. I want you to do this."

Casey did not need to be asked twice, although she refrained from helping Alex with her shirt so that if the blonde at any second decided she was done with this interaction she could hesitate, or pause, or stop, but in one fluid motion Alex tugged her shirt over her head and let it fall off the edge of the couch, leaving her panting in a modest bra. Casey nearly swooned, yes at the sight of the expanse of skin, but more so the triumphant and almost breathless look on Alex's face, the way her eyes lit up as if she was immensely proud of herself, and Casey broke her previously unbroken path of kisses to claim Alex's mouth once more because she couldn't help it, although kissing while smiling so much was rather hard for both of them. Alex felt nearly giddy.

The copper headed woman's fingers found Alex's ribs again and it was as if the previous tension had never happened in the first place, Alex leaning forward and up, pushing herself further into Casey's light touches and using her hands to cradle Casey's skull.

"Angelus," Alex sighed when Casey broke the kiss again to return to the original task, kissing briefly and impatiently along the length of Alex's collarbone before becoming immensely soft, tender kisses along the small scar that had almost claimed Alex's life.

"Okay, I know that one- thank you-" Casey paused, looking up at Alex with a teasing expression, "but please, I really don't know Latin. Why do you know so much Latin? Don't answer that, actually, I'm busy kissing you."

She was rewarded for the lighthearted jest with a small cascade of giggles from Alex's mouth, as much as an attorney as esteemed as her was capable of giggling, smiling into Alex's skin as she kissed a bit more firmly. Alex's hands never left Casey's head, encouraging, rewarding her for her service by tangling in her curls gently in a way she knew Casey was fond of.

Her brain was fixated on Casey- she didn't have the space to share her mind with self-consciousness, or occupation-based misery, or the trauma of being shot and being in witness protection or any of the other things wrong with her life or her past or the world. She was in being kissed in the DA's office like a giddy rebellious teen, and it was warm, and she was shirtless, and Casey was so impossibly attentive with her kisses. Casey...

"Oh, wait, Casey-" Alex stopped, being hurled out of her bliss by a sudden realization, her voice immensely serious, and Casey startled, immediately shooting backwards. "Yes?"

Alex moved her hands out of Casey's hair, her fingers finding the buttons of the younger woman's blouse, and gave her a pointed look, although playful lights shone behind her eyes.

"Can *this* come off?"

[felassan]

Super random but by any chance do you know or know of a resource that lists what crow houses control/reside in which antivan city? I realized I had no idea who's supposed to be in "control" of Treviso and managed to just confuse myself more on crow lore....

hello! ◕‿◕ (rest of post under cut due to DA:TV spoilers)

we know that the Crows sometimes have "territory disputes" (quote from Caterina). the disputes part implies that the Crow 'territory map', if you like, isn't static. I also do wonder if some of the larger settlements at least are in practise 'split up', with different portions being controlled by different houses?

World of Thedas has it that House Valisti operates (or operated?) out of Treviso.

in DA:TV, we see that House Dellamorte has the Dellamorte Estates/Villa Dellamorte/Dellamorte Opera House in Treviso, and that once they owned a vineyard that lay south of Treviso; that House Cantori has the Cantori Diamond casino in Treviso; and that the Talons of de Riva, Cantori and Dellamorte are in Treviso. Teia writes to a colleague in Antiva City that Crows from Cantori, Arainai, Balazar, de Riva, Dellamorte, and minor houses like Magneretti and Candide are cooperating in Treviso under the occupation. ofc, someone being somewhere doesn't automatically mean it's their territory that they're in, Crows/Houses could own buildings and property in multiple places, and (re: below) people can own more than one home.

Tevinter Nights mentions that Viago de Riva has a home in Salle:

Teia, to Viago: "Are you going straight home to Salle?"

so perhaps Salle is where House de Riva usually operates out of?

Tevinter Nights mentions that Teia Cantori has a home in Rialto:

Teia had a garden full of the bell-shaped flowers in Rialto.

Teia: "Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto."

so perhaps Rialto is where House Cantori usually operates out of?

given those ideas, and with Villa Dellamorte/Dellamorte Estates (Caterina/Lucanis/Illario's home) being in Treviso (and also the way Lucanis talks about Treviso), maybe Treviso was usually where the Dellamorte operated out of?

Tevinter Nights also might imply that Teia has another home in Antiva City[?], the city where she was a thief on the streets of before she joined the Crows. When Viago replies to the question about Salle, he says no, he's going to Antiva City, and asks her why she's asking. She says "To see if you had a place to stay", in invitation.

This TN passage could imply that House Nero originates somewhere coastal, somewhere along the Rialto Bay:

Bolivar had all the trappings of a Talon, but none of the substance. His family had made their fortune as pearl divers and were once the wealthiest elves in Antiva. House Nero no longer held that title, but Bolivar spent coin as if Rialto Bay had an infinite supply of pearls to support his lavish lifestyle.

(It's also said that pearls are synonymous with House Nero).

Zevran was purchased in Rialto and speaks of Antiva City - maybe House Arainai has/had a presence in that/those place[s]?

🤔

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi!! could you possibly make a post about temporal lobe epilepsy/seizures? your account is the bestest ever for resources gosh i love it

Writing Notes: Temporal Lobe Epilepsy

Epilepsy - a chronic (persistent) disorder of the nervous system. The primary symptoms of this disease are periodic or recurring seizures that are triggered by sudden episodes of abnormal electrical activity in the brain.

The term ‘‘seizure’’ refers to any unusual body functions or activities that are under the control of the nervous system.

Temporal Lobe Epilepsy

Also called psychomotor epilepsy, psychomotor seizure, complex partial seizure

The term for recurring seizures beginning in the temporal lobe – the section of the brain located on the sides of the head behind the temples and cheekbones.

An epileptic seizure often associated with temporal lobe disease and characterized by complex sensory, motor, and psychic symptoms such as:

impaired consciousness with amnesia,

emotional outbursts,

automatic behavior, and

abnormal acts.

The temporal lobes are the areas of the brain that most commonly give rise to seizures.

The mesial portion (middle) of both temporal lobes is very important in epilepsy — it is frequently the source of seizures and can be prone to damage or scarring.

Because there are so many diverse functions either in or closely related to the temporal lobes, these seizures may have a dramatic effect on the patient’s quality of life.

Seizures beginning in the temporal lobes may remain there, or they may spread to other areas of the brain.

Depending on if and where the seizure spreads, the patient may experience the sensation of:

A peculiar smell (such as burning rubber)

Strong emotions (such as fear)

Abdominal/chest discomfort

Automatic, unconsciously repeated movements

Staring

Loss of awareness

Uncinate Epilepsy - A form of psychomotor epilepsy initiated by a dreamy state and by hallucinations of smell and taste, usually caused by a medial temporal lesion. Also called uncinate fit.

Furor Epilepticus - The sudden unprovoked attacks of intense anger and violence to which individuals with psychomotor epilepsy are occasionally subject.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your kind words! And your requests are always interesting, I learned a lot from this. Hope this helps with your writing.

[bliss-in-the-void]

Gege Akutami, You Do Not Understand Gojo Satoru, and Here is Why

I was reading this article to help me cope with the traumatic events of Chapter 236 when a certain portion didn’t sit right with me.

Long post, click to read the full analysis:

(this is probably the most important post I've made so far)

Now, we all know that Gege doesn’t like Gojo. They don’t make it a secret in the slightest. Which is fine in itself, as an author you are 100% within your right to hate a character you created, and I respect that—it gives dimension to the dynamic of a story.

What I don’t care for is the reasons Akutami lists for their dislike of Gojo.

Reason #1 as stated in the above blurb of the article: Gojo doesn’t have depth.

To me, this is a wild statement to make as an author, but especially as the one who wrote Gojo. Where does he lack depth? Genuine question.

I believe he is an incredibly complex character.

He is the first sorcerer in centuries to be born with the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques, which automatically sets up so many nuances. Coupled with the fact that Akutami has stated that he grew up spoiled, that right there should tell you some things about why he is the way he is. He has a bit of an inflated ego when it comes to his powers. And why wouldn’t he? From the time he was born, the people around him treated him like some sort of God. How else was he supposed to grow up? He’s told his whole life he possesses unparalleled power, and he’s going to believe that.

Even still, it really isn’t as unchecked as Akutami seems to believe it is. Despite his distaste for authority, Gojo still reports to the higher ups, goes on missions, exorcizes curses, and works collaboratively with his fellow sorcerers. If he was really the giant egomaniac Akutami argues that he is, he’d say ‘to hell with authority’ and run off to do whatever he wants like Yuki. I mean, COME ON, this guy is the most powerful modern sorcerer and he still attended all four years of high school. He could have easily never attended—who was going to stop him?

He has a peculiar sense of humor that can get inappropriately timed in certain moments, but it’s obvious that it’s a deflection and a coping mechanism for the horrors of a sorcerer’s reality. He doesn’t just joke about death and dying because he doesn’t care. He cares too much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he suppresses and laughs it off. Moments like this are seen after Suguru dies in JJK 0 when he was clearly crying afterward, but had to put on a cheerful facade for Yuuta and the other students.

He is a very good teacher. It’s hard for a naturally gifted prodigy to effectively teach things which come automatically to them, and somehow he finds creative ways to do it. Teaching Yuuji to control cursed energy by using one of Yaga’s dolls and giving him a movie marathon? One of Yuuji’s favorite hobbies? Genius and so considerate for Yuuji. He’d just been thrown into the sorcerer world, learning all these new things, and Gojo decided to introduce a foreign concept to him through something familiar and comfortable to him. That is amazing, and the mark of a very kind, understanding teacher. He’s also really patient with his students. Yes, he gives them tough love sometimes by throwing them into missions, but it really is to make them strong. How else will they grow if they aren’t put under pressure?

His motivation for being a teacher is very selfless. He himself has stated that he isn’t suited to be a teacher, but that he has a dream to raise a generation of strong allies to prevent isolation from occurring like what had happened to Suguru. He felt guilty about growing apart from him, didn’t see the warning signs before he snapped, and regrets not being there for him more. His entire purpose now is dedicated to making sure the new wave of sorcerers have a tightly-knit network so that no one ends up alone and on a dark path like Suguru.

He constantly sticks his neck out for the helpless even when it’s far from his benefit. He paid off the Zenin clan to save Megumi, the child of the man who ruined his high school years and nearly killed him. He then raised him. He threatened the higher ups to keep Yuuta alive, and then did it again for Yuuji. He does this to preserve their youth, because his own was taken away from him. His whole life he’d been controlled by the higher ups and people around him because of who he is in the sorcerer world, so by waving his own status in front of authority to hold them back from his students, he acts as a sort of shield to take as many burdens off of their shoulders as he can so that they can remain carefree. As much as he can within his power.

With all of that being said, I really don’t understand where Akutami is coming from with lack of depth, but another argument I say to that statement is: well, you’re the author, give him the depth you think he’s missing. (Personally, I believe he’s one of the best-written characters in any anime I’ve seen).

Reason #2 is that according to Akutami, he doesn’t have a likable personality.

What about his personality is unlikable?

He is cocky, but not to the point where he stops caring about others, not to the point where he never considers how other people feel or how his actions affect other people, and not to the point where he never feels guilt and remorse about his shortcomings. Like I said, he lives his life trying to prevent his past from repeating itself, to save the fates of others.

I really don’t get it. In JJK 0, after Nitta gives her report on the shopping mall, Gojo thanks her and praises her. Would a cocky asshole do that? No. If you wanted to characterize him as unlikable, you could have made him dismiss her, or ignore her.

He makes pop culture references, he has endearing flaws like not being good at drawing, being a lightweight drinker, and overdoing it on the sweets. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s considerate…he is a very likable character.

Honestly, the self-absorption he displays when he’s fighting is probably a result of his upbringing. Being told you have so much power you have so much power you have so much power over and over again instills this belief that yes, he’s needed by Jujutsu Society to fight curses as a weapon. As. A. Weapon. The Six Eyes & Limitless user is a formidable weapon, but what about Satoru Gojo, the person? The only time he feels useful is when he’s fighting curses. That’s where he gets his self-worth. We can see that expressed in this panel, from Chapter 236:

In the second half of Gojo’s second text bubble, he says, “でもどこかで人としてというより生き物としての線引きがあったのかな”.

This translates to: “But I wonder if somewhere there was a line drawn between being a creature rather than a person.”

Rather than having drew the line himself, being constantly treated like the strongest, being handed over the difficult missions, being relied on so heavily pushed him away from other people. It distorted the perception everyone had of him, and it distorted the perception he had of himself. He also believed he could never lose because he let his human side fade into the background. The world didn't need human Satoru Gojo, they needed sorcerer Satoru Gojo, the one who could bend rules to his will with his might, the one who could exorcise any curse and save the day no matter how bad things got. Why would he remain human when that part of him was treated as non-existent? The only person who did treat him as a person with weaknesses and flaws has been dead for eleven years. Of course that voice of reason is going to fizzle out.

How can you possibly vilify him for that? It would be a disservice to everything he has had to endure his entire life.

Reason #3 and the last point I want to touch on is when the article says, "Akutami believes that much of this adoration is based solely on his striking appearance, overshadowing his more abrasive personality traits."

Okay. Where to start?

Honestly, and I know this is probably not Akutami's intention, but that comes off as so condescending. It's so presumptuous. It's as if to say we're all going "ooh look at pretty man, pretty man do no wrong because too pretty" mindlessly with dilated pupils and drool coming out of our mouths. Uh. No.

Yes, Satoru is a good-looking character, but no, that is very far from why we like him so much as a character, and it's also very far from why he's so popular. Aside from all of the points I've made above explaining why he's so universally loved, I'll make another one that isn't superficial and tired.

He's so relatable.

This is a man so incredibly traumatized by his high school years that he is mentally and emotionally unable to move on. Suguru Geto was his very best friend, and for reasons he took too long to understand, chose to abandon their friendship for his own goals. For anyone who has grown apart from a best friend, this hits so hard.

Because of his upbringing it was hard to become close to anyone. But somehow, Suguru was able to break past his walls, and for that, he became entirely too dependent on him. This is common for anyone who finds it hard to make friends and get close to others. Once someone is allowed in, you cling so hard to them and imagine them being there for your entire life. So, when they leave, you take it entirely too personally.

Everyone has a right to live their own lives, and as we see with the divergence of Suguru and Satoru, sometimes our paths aren't leading to the same place. It's not personal. But Satoru took it personal, and that's so beautifully human. When you lose a best friend who was important to you, you think "I like being around this person, they put me at ease in a way no one else does", and you assume they feel the same way about you. So when they leave and show you that no, they didn't feel the same, it hurts. It's almost as if they're saying "I actually do think you're unlovable like everyone else, that's why no one likes you, you are too much."

Someone you thought was safe, isn't anymore.

That is such a relatable thing to watch a character go through! Especially someone as awe-inspiring and charismatic as Gojo! As an audience, we think, "he's just like me!" and we like him for it.

So, as I stated in the title, Gege Akutami, you don't understand Satoru Gojo at all. I commend you for writing such an amazing, iconic, universally loved character, but I will never understand nor respect the superficial way in which you perceive him.

[thecattitudecentral]

PetSafe 5-Meal Feeder: A Comprehensive Review for Pet Owners

As a pet parent, ensuring your furry friend is fed on time, even when you’re not home, is a top priority. The PetSafe 5-Meal Feeder is designed to make feeding effortless, reliable, and precise, offering peace of mind for busy pet owners. Available on Amazon, this feeder is a popular choice for cats and small to medium-sized dogs, promising portion control and scheduled meals. But does it live up…

[queenofcandynsoda]

As much as I do not want to have this thought, considering I do somewhat like Enji as a character, how he has grown in his redemption arc, and how he separated himself from his Endeavor persona, I got a feeling that, if Touya was alive and had a kid, Endeavor would see his grandchild as a "backup" in case anything happened to Shoto.

For instance, if the grandbaby had both pyrokinesis and heat resistance, they would be the automatic favorite.

This could be the case if Touya was not no-contact with him.

This reminds me of how toxic parents who were not in contact with their children suddenly wanted to be in their lives when they heard they had a grandchild. It feels more like a way to reinsert themselves into their children's lives and reestablish control. At the same time, there is a small portion that wanted to actually improve their relationship with their children, but the latter, understandably, refused to let them back into their lives.

If they knew about the grandchild's existence at all.

Now, it would be Endeavor's initial thoughts, but he had never gone through it, as this would be the time he realized how his actions damaged his family and wanted to atone.

However, it would never stop accusations of him seeing his grandchild as "Shoto's backup," especially from Natsuo.

[bensonoliviasstuff]

“Turning Page”

Chapter five! “May these memories break our fall”

Masterlist for Turning Page

Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader

Summary: Once Bucky regained consciousness and was no longer the Winter Soldier, all he missed from the 40s was his wife. But maybe she's closer than he thought.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language, so I'm sorry if there are too many errors. A little bit of angst, memory loss, betrayal, trauma, Insecurities. And the best part: Thanos doesn't exist here

Taglist: @capswife @mostlymarvelgirl @scott-loki-barnes @bxckybxrnes24 @alliw27

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

That was what woke you up, an irritating noise that reminded you of a hospital.

For a moment you thought it was the alarm clock, only then did you realize it was your heart rate monitor.

You opened your eyes, Taking a while to process the light that hurt his eyes, the first question that crossed his mind was “what happened?”

Soon flashbacks of the mess you caused after seeing the photo in Bucky's wallet began to appear in your mind, God, you were a mess when you started taking it all in.

You tried to lift your torso just to feel that you were a little unable to move.

You looked down, trying to understand what was stopping you from getting up, and then you saw Bucky.

He was sitting in a chair on the side of the bed, but his metal hand held yours as he slept with his head resting on your thigh.

You smiled, as soon as you laid eyes on him the understanding came to you.

He was alive, he was alive and sleeping in front of you.

You used your unoccupied hand to stroke his hair, letting out a sob as it all hit you.

He woke up with your body shaking because of the sobs, a little disoriented he quickly got up, approaching you.

"Why are you crying? Does your head still hurt? Are you well?" He peppered you with questions and you started laughing through sobs.

“I'm crying because I missed you, idiot” you said, his heart stopped (and he couldn't say if it would start again)

He placed his hands on your face, laughing along with you, you both looked like a mess of tears.

He looked at you without knowing exactly what to say, it still seemed unreal that you remembered him.

He didn't know any word to describe his happiness that wasn't simply an euphemism, you were here, you were his, and he was yours, it had always been this way, and now you knew it was.

“I'm sorry for making you miss me, doll” He asked for forgiveness, feeling that now that you remembered the guilt would consume him once and for all, “Please forgive me, I didn't keep my promise, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

He started to stammer out apologies, Would you blame him for not listening to you? Would you feel angry at him for leaving you?

You couldn't control yourself anymore, you've wanted to do this for about... eighty years? seventy?

You placed your hands on his face and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips together and automatically feeling all the happiness in the world, it was immeasurable how much you missed those lips against yours.

He seemed surprised by your sudden attitude, he thought it would take longer for you to reach this stage, but didn't hesitate even half a millisecond before kissing you back.

He pulled you closer to him, you both could merge and it wouldn't be close enough to make up for the time you were apart.

He placed one hand on your waist, squeezing that portion of skin, with the other hand he reached your scalp, moving your head so that the kiss seemed like a choreographed dance that only you two knew the right steps.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, you smiled into the kiss, for someone who had never kissed anyone since 1945 Bucky realized he still knew how to get to your favorite spots.

You only separated when you ran out of air, both of you panting after the most passionate kiss you've ever shared, Bucky pressed his forehead to yours with his eyes closed, you took a look at him, with his red and swollen lips, he hasn't changed anything, you remembered him exactly as he is now.

It made you emotional, the tender feeling of your husband so close to you.

You broke the contact only to hug him, burying your forehead in his neck and being surrounded by his arms like a newborn baby.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault Barnes” you whispered, God! how long has it been since you called him Barnes. “You found me, that’s what matters.”

“Did you ever doubt i would?” He teased, Drawing with his fingers in your upper thigh.

You smiled against his neck, giving him goosebumps a little “I think I have to admit that your funeral made me doubt it a little.” You joked, the worst day of your life was when you and Steve had a funeral without any body

“I will always find you as long as I live, that’s the concept of ‘till death do us part’” He stated confidently.

You sighed, enjoying the smell of your husband, you thought you would never have that contact again. “Bucky... I...”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as a loud noise made you startle and Bucky pressed you tighter against his chest.

"What was this?" Bucky said stiffly, holding you tighter.

You closed your eyes tightly, the possibility entering your head.

Unfortunately you were right.

Bucky held your hand trying to take you to a safe place when the infirmary was invaded, you recognized each of the Hydra agents and wanted to run away.

Your eyes widened as you saw Bucky fighting each of the agents, whatever Hydra did to him all these years, it was bad.

It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to handle them all, but you were also trained, he didn't count on you taking down several of the agents that came at you.

In the time you were here, Bucky only had access to the quiet and observant version of you, it was the first time he saw you in action and it made him lose his breath, you looked even more beautiful as you dropped dozens of men at your feet.

But those agents were already adapted to you trying to turn against them, they knew your every move while you fought, because they were the ones who had trained you all these years, you would eventually always end up rebelling in your time trapped in Hydra.

It took a while, but one of them knocked you down with a blow to the head. “Y/n!” You heard Bucky scream.

You looked at your right and saw him trying to free himself from some agents holding him, there were many.

Bucky was going into despair, but the thought of losing you again did what no amount of adrenaline ever did.

He swung his metal arm, getting rid and punching a son of a bitch who was holding him before.

He was seeing red, not being able to see how many people he knocked out until he realized they were all on the ground.

He turned to you who was curled up on the floor with a bad headache from the blow.

“Calm down doll, we’re going to be fine” he picked you up, taking you to his room via the safest route.

As soon as he arrived in the room, his phone started ringing and Natasha's voice was heard. “come here, now!”

He reluctantly sat you down on the bed “I'll be right back, don't you dare leave here until the compound is safe” he turned to leave but you held his hand.

“Bucky, I have to tell you something…” He stopped to listen, but before you could say anything a loud bang was heard outside.

“I need to go, doll, you tell me later, we will have plenty of time, i love you” He ran to the door.

“But...” he was already far away, shouting for FRIDAY to lock the room, “it’s important...”

You sighed, this was all your fault, Bucky would never forgive you, would he?

You started walking around the room, you had never been in his room.

You looked around, noticing that there was no decoration other than several picture frames on the nightstand.

They were all photos of the two of you or just you, now you remembered all those moments.

Remembering everything now felt like a death by a thousand cuts, all of Bucky's efforts and you still didn't remember him, you would have avoided so much suffering if you had remembered earlier.

You reached his wardrobe, taking one of the blouses and pressing it to your face, You missed him so much, that smell, it seemed like the penny hadn't sunk in for you until that moment, you finally had Bucky back.

The thought was interrupted by someone knocking down the door, you only managed to see a very familiar face before it blacked out.

He would forgive you? that’s what you hoped.

Bucky knocked down another one of the agents, ready to punch someone else when he saw them all backing up and walking away.

He couldn't understand why they were giving up so suddenly, it was as if they had completed the objective.

His eyes widened: you.

He ran faster than he remembered ever running, reaching his room only to scream in frustration when he saw the high-security door kicked open.

He threw a punch at the wall feeling tears welling up in his eyes, it was now that he would kill all those bastards.

He ran downstairs, skipping a few steps as he passed the staircase, his head was clouded with the possibility of losing you again when he didn't even have enough time to processing that you both were together again. Had hurt enough when you were apart, but now that he had tasted your kiss, your touch, your smell... He couldn't lose you after feeling all of this again.

He ran to the exit but Steve stopped him before he reached the door.

“They took her!” Bucky shouted, struggling to get past, but Tony joined Steve in holding him back.

“And what’s your genius idea? Go there alone and without any kind of plan?” Steve said, insisting on keeping Bucky away from the door “Bucky, I’m serious! You know I won't spare any effort to bring her back, but you need to use your head.”

“Oh, I'm using my head perfectly now, enough to know that I'm NOT going to lose her again!” He shouted, letting go of Steve and taking two steps back. “I won't make the same mistakes, I won't lose her again, I won't leave her alone again!” He approached Steve "Last time it was my fault, I left her alone to go to that stupid war and lost everything, I just got her back Steve, so don't tell me what to do!"

This time Steve didn't try to fight, so Bucky walked past him, grabbing the keys to some random bike, he wouldn't let his girl go again, you just remembered him, what if they erased your memory before he arrived? Or worse, what if they killed you?”

That wouldn't be happening, not while he was alive.

[megyulmi]

JJK Chapter 260 Spoilers!

➠ Sukuna’s vision and the Hallucinations that arise from the deterioration of body in Buddhism:

This is a personal opinion on why Sukuna saw Gojo in that particular moment of Chapter 260. It is based on the process of Death in Buddhism and the visions that one entering the process of dying experiences. Please note that the death process varies depending on the school of Buddhism and here I am referencing the Mahayana tradition and the works of a Tibetan monk - Thubten Yeshe.

According to the work of Thubten Yeshe, the most important chakra (energy wheel) that runs through a body is the one located at the level of our heart as the heart chakra is considered the home of our very subtle mind (the mind is divided into the gross mind, the subtle mind, and the very subtle mind: the gross mind depends on the body and the five elements - earth, water, fire, air, and space. As soon as body functions stop, the gross mind stops. The subtle mind underpins the five senses - see, smell, hear, taste and feel the world of the spirit. The very subtle mind is the source of the clear light).

The activity of all types of mind, both gross and subtle, depends upon their supporting winds (of the energy) and where these are travelling. As long as they flow through any of the channels other than the central channel, these winds activate the gross minds that give rise to superstition and confusion. But when these winds enter, abide and dissolve into the central channel, as happens naturally at the time of death, the gross minds subside and the very subtle mind of clear light arises instead. This entire process happens automatically during death (as a process of deterioration) but very few are able to recognise it.

Here it is also important to note that the root of the Samsaric (endless cycle of life, death and rebirth) suffering is ego-grasping: the wrong view that holds onto a mistaken belief in a self-existent ‘I’ or ego-identity. Holding onto one’s ‘ego-identity’ at the time of the passing brings death in an uncontrolled manner, which forces the dying to enter an uncontrolled intermediate state.

Now to the actual process of dying: there are three stages - death, the intermediate state and rebirth. For us the process of death is important, so I will be discussing only this stage.

Death is the separation of the mind from the body. The body does not lose its ability to maintain consciousness all at once, but does so gradually with each element of the body losing its supportive ability in turn. First, the earth element sinks, or dissolves, into the water element and then the water element sinks into the fire and fire into the air, and the air element into consciousness itself. For example, when it is said that the earth element sinks into the water element, this means that as the solid portions of the body are losing their ability to function and are becoming less intimately interconnected with the dying person’s mind, the liquid element appears stronger and more evident. As these various physical elements become stronger and weaker in turn, the dying person experiences certain external and internal signs associated with the dissolution process.

When people, who have not trained themselves to go through the process of death during life, die they are out of control. They become overwhelmed as their bodily elements go out of balance and cease functioning harmoniously. It is therefore very difficult, if not impossible, for them to remain calmly aware of what is happening while experiencing visions. To put it simply, while desperately holding onto a supposedly solid sense of ‘I’ for security, they panic as the basis for one’s ego-identity – the body itself – begins to disintegrate.

As the earth element of their body deteriorates and the water element grows stronger, their mind is filled with the hallucination of a shimmering silver-blue mirage. They feel trapped and suffocated. Then the water element sinks into the fire element and a vision of swirling smoke appears. As this is happening they may feel that they are drowning or being carried away by swirling currents of water. Next, the fire element dissolves and their body gradually grows colder; they perceive a vision like that of sparks dancing over an open fire at night. Finally, the air element dissolves and their breathing becomes very shallow, and they may feel that they are being blown about like a leaf in the wind. Along with this experience comes the vision of a dying flame in a darkened room. As is the case when a candle is about to go out, the flame suddenly grows brighter as if exploding in a final burst of energy. Their breathing, which has been getting more and more difficult, now comes to a complete halt. To the outside world, they now seem to be dead. The visions one experiences in the process of death also vary from school to school (some see people, some see ‘demons’ or their fears, etc.).

I think that what we saw at the end of Chapter 260 was Yuuji causing damage so big to Sukuna’s heart chakra (in this particular case of jjk, soul) that he caused the elements of Sukuna’s body to deteriorate and enter different stages. We are seeing Sukuna being pushed to the edge of dying and his vision of ‘the ghost of the strongest’ is the representation of the visions (hallucinations) that arise from the uncontrolled mind at the moment of the beginning of the death process and the dissolution of the body. He is desperate (or trapped in a place/position he has never truly envisioned himself to be in) and clinging to the version of himself when his ego-identity was at its highest (i.e. defeating the strongest of the modern era). And how he sees Gojo, arising from the smoke (dust) is similar to how the hallucinations arise between the deterioration of the elements as well.

[moonspirit]

Heyyy!

It just popped into my head randomly but.. sometimes I wonder.. Ymir’s curse was the 13 years after having a Titan, right? So I’m like what if they don’t have that 13 years thing anymore but still Titan powers? For the rumbling at the end, maybe it was just a kid of ‘restart’ because it all got edited, not more dying after 13.. dunno tho, it was just random 😭

Hello hello!

Oh this would be very interesting! Basically nerf the death and buff the badass powers xD I like~

In this AU, I wonder how things would've turned out. Part of the urgency in canon events through S4 was that Eren's time was running out and so was Zeke's. Eren's desperation to get something done before he died was a substantial portion of the "reckless-ness" of his actions, so now, what if Ymir didn't have a curse at all? What if the power of the titans was eternal because of Ymir's desire to always be connected to other people?

I don't really reckon things would be much different for Paradis. The military and technological prowess of other nations is still advancing, and Marley's still hell-bent on attacking Paradis. Hatred for the Eldians is still strong and rampant. The only difference is that the shifters do not have an expiration date, but they cannot afford to "wait" because Paradis could be attacked anyday.

From a more personal standpoint, I think... the feelings would be complicated. Sure, it's great to not die so soon, but carrying around the titan power for the rest of eternity? This actually gives rise to the question of how inheritance works in this AU. Do you still have to eat a shifter to transfer their powers? Can you have children? Do children automatically become inheritors? What if you died childless, would the inheritance be random selection? So many questions to ponder...

Okay, I got distracted, back to the personal emotions xD I don't see a lifelong responsibility to carry shifting powers as good news. This actually sets the stage for the possibility of being put to task for horrible things as long as you prove good and useful, and for suffering the ensuing guilt of it all. Moreover it is loss of bodily control for whatever length of time - those that need your power will dictate how you use it and how often you transform into the monster, which is, let's admit it, not a nice profession to be known for.

But WE want to see the Female Titan kick ass and the Colossal Titan nuke things without dying in 13 years - AND I"M ALL FOR IT!

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Had a dream the new Deltarune Chapter came out. It had an outer-space themed Dark World and was full of Classic Space Shooter parodies, but the most notable thing about is that, like,

The dialogue was all in Japanese - and it was, like, awkward badly-translated Japanese at that (the Japanese translation probably had awkward badly-translated English instead) and it kept auto-skipping far too quickly for anyone to read it. The characters also kept walking automatically from location to location without any chance for the Player to look at anything on their own. Like, the Player was able to do Battles and Puzzles like normal, but every time there was a cutscene or even just the characters walking from place-to-place, the game auto-controlled like an LPer trying to rush through everything.

And, if you were able to gleam the story from the hastily-skipped-over-oddly-translated-pieces-of-dialogue you'd see this was actually Extremely Thematically Resonate. Cause the story was that our Three Heroes are also trying to rush through the Dark World as soon as possible and they're not taking it seriously enough.

Then once you reach the Light World Epilogue the game goes back to normal. The Player is back in control of Kris' movement, the language switches back into English and the dialogue stops auto-skipping.

And THEN in the middle of the Epilogue it turns out that because the Heroes did such a rushjob of taking care of that Dark World, the Dark Fountain was not properly sealed, and it reopens and now they have to do everything all over again. They learn a very important lesson about not rushing through an important task and resolve to seal the Fountain properly this time.

And now there's like a whole new adventure in that Dark World that actually plays like a normal Deltarune Chapter with it's own real Light World Epilogue afterwards and everything.

But also, like, since the 'speedrun' and 'real' portions of the Chapter were two separate adventures, folks online quickly realized there were lore and story details hiding exclusively in the version that's weirdly-translated and too fast to read. So Deltarune fans were spending all of their time recording and screenshotting and transcribing everything said in the first part of the adventure in search of useful info.

Also that whole Dark World was also about helping the school janitor come to terms with his bisexuality or something?

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Natsu is not allowed to share his own food.

If he's at a friend's place, or out on a mission, or hanging at the guild. It does not matter, he's getting a plate automatically put in front of him first.

He thinks its everyone being so so niceys to him. And they are!

But also they're desperately controlling his portion sizes because if he shares his food himself there would simply not be enough leftover to feed anyone else.