[image description: five digital portraits of dnd characters, each drawn in 3/4 profile facing toward the right.

first is Konks, a young goblin paladin. she has dark blue skin, short orange hair, and massive red eyes, and she's wearing a green rugby shirt. she's looking up with a determined grin, showing off her sharp teeth.

next is Sassy, a middle-aged elf rogue. he has tan skin, silver eyes, blond hair pulled back in a ratty ponytail, freckles, and a scar on his cheek. he's wearing a dark blue cloak with a gold clasp, and he's staring at the viewer looking unimpressed.

next is Hyssop, a young human wizard. he has pale skin, blue eyes, and shoulder-length, wavy brown hair. he's wearing a collared shirt beneath a purple robe, and he's looking off to the right with a neutral expression.

next is Morada, a young tiefling monk. she has dark grey skin, solid black eyes, and choppy white hair. her two horns have been filed down to small nubs. she's wearing a maroon jacket with a high collar. her head is tilted forward slightly, and she has a cold expression.

last is Ryus, a middle-aged fire genasi warlock. he looks mostly human, with brown skin and long, stringy hair that's gone bald on top, but his eyes are a bright, fiery orange, and the left part of his torso and neck (viewer's right) is made of rough stone with glowing magma visible between the cracks. he's wearing a torn-up red shirt, and he's looking to the right with a wide-eyed, intense stare.

end id]

first session of firefell on wednesday and I'm very excited! haven't run 5e in-person in like three years so we'll see how it goes lmao

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

I dont think anything on this earth tickles me so hard as how busted white people look in the yakuza franchise

its so dhsjdjfjxjfjgk

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. megumi is fed up with everyone treating him like a kid and takes his frustrations out on you.

✦ tags. smut. 18+ megumi. no pronouns used. choking. dirty talk. hate sex.

Low growls from Megumi are mixed with your drawn out, breathy moans while he continues his relentless pace inside you. The muscles in his arms flexing when he grips the bedsheets beside your head.

His pretty, dark blue eyes flutter from how tight you feel around his cock, biting down on his lower lip to suppress a moan of his own.

He groans in frustration when you murmur the nickname everyone insists on calling him, "Gumi..."

"Say it," he hissed, the grip of his hands on the soft fabric tightening as his eyes glaze over again. His legs shift around yours so he sinks deeper, causing his words to come out as low growls. "Say my fucking name, I'm not some kind of brat," his tone cold still as he goes faster.

"M-Megumi," you gasp out after he changes the angle, causing his hard tip to bully against your g-spot over and over again. You arch your back in pure ecstasy, small hands moving to his grab onto his broad shoulders to keep yourself from moaning out too loud for his dorm mates to hear.

His strong chest heaves up and down with each shaky breath. Studying your face while trying not to react, but the feeling of your warm insides wrapped around him, clenching and unclenching to pull him in deeper was too intoxicating of a feeling for someone as inexperienced as himself.

"Always treating me like a fucking child." He bites out. Closing his eyes, the sound of your wet hole being abused loud in his ears. His hands move to grip your hips tightly, thrusting faster while his nails dig into your skin. "Now look who's in control."

You nod mindlessly along his words, lips quivering as you try to respond to him. “Mm—mhm!” you look up at him with big, teary eyes in hopes of your response being good enough.

He leans in closer to make sure you understand, resting on his elbows beside your pleading face. "That's right," Megumi whispered. His abs flex as he feels himself getting close already, causing his dominance over you to waver slightly.

His strong hands move from your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing tightly.

"That's fucking right."

His breath hitches, eyes glazing over as he watches your tight body bounce up and down with each deep stroke. His pale muscles glisten with the thin layer of sweat that drips down his body. He starts to pant like a dog in heat, thrusting between every word to emphasize his anger.

"Take. It. Take. It." His grunting grows deeper as he continues to pump. He thrusts faster, faster, faster. Throbbing inside you, still trying to hold back his orgasm.

That was what he wanted you to understand. He wasn't some kind of little boy; he was in total control.

computer, I need to feel something again, show me Yakuza 3 Kazuma Kiryu Transgender Ally Substory

happy pride month.

For International Asexuality Day, I'm hitting you all with the Ace Beam. ☺️

(This took a lot more effort than I thought it would, lol...)

Edit: 800 notes?! In less than five hours?! Thank you all so much!!

Edit 2: 2000... The most I got on any post before was just over a hundred, lol. You are all so nice!

Reject Autism Speaks, embrace ultra-realistic and occasionally unintentionally autism-coded characters

what the hell did he mean by this

ken the door-darkening was a mortal, once, a very long time ago. they spoke common, draconic, and gnomish. they had a lover named providence. people did not like ken very much. no, they did not like ken at all. no one beloved would be titled for their tendency to make a room worse simply by entering it.

ken the door-darkening was damned upon their death. they were sent to the infernal plane, where they were to be imprisoned and tortured for eternity. after all, people hated the very sight of ken, didn't they? they hadn't earned a peaceful afterlife, no, no.

ken the door-darkening was told they would never get out of hell. nobody ever gets out of hell. not the souls that are damned there, at least. perhaps some auspicious others may come and go, but the damned and the claimed will stay put. a soul getting out— can you imagine? preposterous, they said. no one ever gets out.

ken the door-darkening tried anyway. they tried in all the conventional ways: slipping through a portal, following a mortal visitor who had genuine recourse to leave, sneaking away on the back of a devil who decided to take a trip to the material plane. none of these worked, obviously. hell is prepared for attempts such as these. if ken wanted to get out, first they'd have to get clever, and then they'd have to get creative.

ken the door-darkening realized that the borders between the planes are porous in both directions. the barriers between the material plane and other planes vary in thickness— some places, by consequence, will see increased influence in the magic, the environment, the population from the plane with the thinnest edge. in some places it is child's play to access the elemental planes, or the celestial plane, or faerie... or, indeed, the infernal plane.

ken the door-darkening began pressing at the edges. if they worked tirelessly enough perhaps they could squeeze themself through the barrier at its thinnest point and wind up on the other side. have you ever tried to push your hand through fine mesh netting without tearing a hole in the material? oh, but a hole would be noticeable. a hole would get ken caught. they would have to face the consequences for tearing a hole. so they simply pressed. and they pressed. they pressed until the facsimile of a body they were given upon entering (their true body was buried on the material plane when they died, as most are) rotted and fell away, until in their isolation they lost all sense of themself— yes, they must have been alone, for their efforts must have been secret, for anyone who might have known of ken's intentions would surely have been rewarded for exposing such a scheme, for it wouldn't be possible to take anyone with them. they pressed and they pressed until all that remained was their soul— their soul which had been damned for eternity, their soul which could never cease to be until the full term of their damnation had been paid. they pressed. and, eventually, millennia in the making, they pushed through.

ken the door-darkening thought perhaps for a moment they'd wound up on the elemental plane of earth. they weren't sure what they would do on the elemental plane of earth. what would happen to them there? would there be anything for them to inhabit? were they to be stuck there for eternity, too? well, an eternity on the elemental plane of earth was certainly more agreeable than an eternity in hell, so if that were to be their fate they would cleave to it as tightly as they could.

ken the door-darkening was not on the elemental plane of earth. ken had succeeded: ken was on the material plane. ken was simply encased in earth— specifically, in the stone wall of an underground mine. and, oh, what a relief it was to realize that they were contained within a wall! a soul must be contained, you see. a loose soul floating about would be noticed right away, would see them immediately recalled to hell and surely punished for their transgression. they would be safe in the wall, for a time. they simply needed someone to pass by the wall with some other container to put them in— perhaps a jar or a bottle or something— and from there they could find their way into an unoccupied body. that would be the easy part, they were certain of it. but to get to the bottle and then the body first they had to wait.

ken the door-darkening waited in the wall for, oh, two months? three? very difficult to tell, within the wall, even without the temporal strangeness instilled in one by some hundreds of years in hell and some thousands of years escaping hell. yes, ken could have left the wall at any time— the wall and ken had built a rapport, see, and if ken had asked politely then the wall would have been so very eager to assist ken in creating a hole through which they could leave the wall. but, well, if they left the wall they'd have to go back. better to stay in the wall, better by far.

ken the door-darkening sensed people— people! for the first time, people! oh, but, no— where— the wrong way, they were going the wrong way, they were going to keep right along the path where ken was encased along the left-hand turn, and if they passed by perhaps they'd never come back, perhaps no one would ever come for ken. now, that simply wouldn't do. so ken politely asked the wall to politely ask the floor to create some sort of hazard that would force the people this direction. and the wall, a good friend of ken's by now, acquiesced, and the floor, a good friend of the wall's, acquiesced, and a hole opened up in front of the people, splitting open like a creature widening its jaws, too far across to leap. so the people turned back. three of them, three of them turned back: an elf, and a tiefling, and a fire genasi. and the elf had flasks, so many flasks. ken could fit very nicely inside a flask, and they said as much. ken begged and pleaded as best they knew how, whining so prettily. if they'd had a face perhaps they'd have pouted, batted their eyes. and the people wanted to leave at first, they continued walking right past, but ken followed as far as they could and, eventually, kindness won the day. imagine that! kindness! kindness from people! the elf pressed the mouth of a flask against the wall and the wall opened a hole exactly that width and ken slipped right into the flask, easy as anything. they asked ken's pronouns and ken's name. ken had no memory of either— they'd had them, once, long ago, so very long— and, well, ken wasn't much bothered by whatever their new friends deigned to call them, so delighted to be called anything at all. the elf suggested they call the soul in the flask "myrtle." ken saw no problem with this. they would answer to myrtle. they would answer to anything. they were out of the wall.

i got bored and put shadow in yakuza kiwami 2

my friend said terada looked like a thwomp from mario 64.

1988

Rᴇᴛᴜʀɴ Tᴏ Sᴏᴛᴇɴʙᴏʀɪ

for dearest @theashenphoenix!

MOVE LIKE A FREAK !