#we feasting!!

[choking-on-roses]

I inadvertently have to eat like a king for the next two weeks because I'm moving and I need to use up all the fine meats I was saving in the freezer for a special occasion

[inkskinned]

actually sometimes being neurodivergent is great bc you have a particular kind of Silly Mode that just . manifests glory. harmless fun is my precious side quest & i have a high score in whimsy. like okay if i gotta be the first dork in the dance pit it's gonna be me and this random toddler and we're gonna avril-style rock ouuuuttt

[vigilskeep]

one of my absolute favourite tiny details is cousland’s nan insisting the warden start the telling of a childhood story, and instead of, i don’t know, “once upon a time”, cousland’s cultural go-to is before our fathers’ fathers came down from the moutains. cousland has chantry tutors but at their nanny’s knee it was alamarri folk tales, not andraste and the wyvern. i think that’s so interesting and it’s one of the jumping-off points for my take that highever let andrastianism colour its culture and traditions more so than change them, in contrast to a centre of pilgrimage and of royalty like denerim, which is more closely interlinked with, and perceived by, andrastians outside ferelden’s borders. cousland to me is always saying some slightly off brand stuff they don’t realise is weird (read: heresy) while alistair and wynne raise eyebrows at each other

[p4nishers]

god. GOD. the underlying anger in everything terry writes really IS apparent in hogfather bc fuck u mean this is how things should be? no the fuck it shouldn't. poor people shouldn't have to be satisfied with what they get, that's just fucking capitalism. i REALLY like that terry decided to use death as projection for what he thinks bc death doesn't know anything and it has to be explained to him and by it being explained to him it shows how fucking stupid those things are. bc ok here's this world where an equivalent of santa ACTUALLY exists and, because it mirrors our world, it's still unjust. santa actually fucking exists in this world and he could give ANYONE ANYTHING bc he's essentially a god and people gave him that power by making him up, BUT because ppl imagined him in a way that poor people don't get shit (like they usually do) and rich people get EVERYTHING they want, he exists like that. whereas death has seen the absolutely WORST of humanity and he STILL thinks that's bullshit and it's not how it should be, it's just how it goes. bc capitalism is always capitalism where there's money and the world will always be fucked up as long as there are oppressor to hold it up. like i just.

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Site where St. Jeanne d’Arc was martyred, Rouen, FR

[st-hedge]

Here are the biblically accurate raidens I drew for every day I played metal gear rising (plus some cuz the gaps were bothering me). What a fucking ridiculous game 12/10

[wejustvibing]

lewis x hot ones | BTS

[maharellasa]

"solavellans are so annoying"

bitch you thought, this is nothing compared to what we'll become come october 31st

[power-of-fluffy-boys]

I must not play early access. Early access is the interest-killer. Early access is the little-death that brings total burnout. I will face early access. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where early access has gone there will be 1.0. Only joy will remain.

[myfandompromptsside]

Imagine Ewan Mitchell telling you to calm down 🫠🫠🫠🫠

Also, blue is his favourite colour? And he smells delicious? I-

[isjasz]

Upon @triplehearts 's request you guys get these too ig

[stars-fate]

TOTTMNT FOOTAGE LET'S FUCKIN GOOOOO

I LOVE THE SKETCHY ARTSTYLE IT LOOKS SOO GOOD

[inkedkoi]

for my fellow sonadow enjoyers

a bonus from this post

[offside-the-lines]

just a good end of period 2 scrum for matthew tkachuk and leon draisaitl. oh, and connor's there. | SCF 2024 Gm 1

alternate view

[robotsandramblings]

WET HAIR?? SALT N PEPPER GRACEFUL GREYING??? FULL BEARD???? PONYTAIL????? SMILING HAPPY HUNTER??????

i will never stfu about Hunter in the finale 🗣️‼️💖