#Bray Poor

[hodginspodgins]

[void-detective]

Bray's in his rocking chair..

[night-dark-woods]

ID. three digital drawings of elsie and eris. the first is fully painted, in the others they are solidly colored in light blue and light green, respectively. the first two show elsie hugging eris from behind, arms around her waist in the first and around her neck in the second. in the third eris comes up behind elsie to lay a hand on her shoulder, and elsie blushes furiously. End ID.

have some yuri. sharing my truth (clingy and touch starved elsie bray)

[29121996]

new hypothesis im testing out: can i regian a connection w someone WITHOUT an apology if i can see change in them. more at 10

[gorillaxyz]

today i thought about battys reactions to murdocs harder drug use and how horrible shed be about it at first

[hedgehog-moss]

Today was very sunny so I went on a nice long walk in the woods with Pirlouit, to stock up on kindling for the winter. He was walking jauntily, I think he really does enjoy going on little missions with his baskets! Now and then I tied him to a tree surrounded by enough vegetation to keep him busy for a bit, and I gathered wood all around him while singing to him. Avec le soleil et le vent ♪ avec la pluie et le beau temps ♫ on vivait bien contents ♪ mon âne, ma Provence et moi ♫ (Technically this song says cheval, not âne, but I always replace the word horse with donkey so my songs are more interesting to him. The only donkey songs I know are very sad, like Le petit âne gris which ends with "Poor beast of burden, abandoned by men, he died without a farewell", I can't possibly sing this to Pirlouit. He already has a resting sad face that he can't do anything about.)

I heard leaves crunching behind us, a few times. Steps. Discreet steps. I turned around, looking for the deer who was apparently following us from a distance.

^ Do you see her? Right in the middle. I saw her immediately, but only because I have had so much practice.

Hello, Pampérigouste.

Sometimes all she wants is to be witnessed. "Aha, do you see me? I'm out of my pasture!! You lost! Look at me" and then I'm like "I see you, Pampe. Wow!! How ever did you fool me again?" and she goes home, having ticked this off her Sunday morning to-do list.

But today she wanted to play. Instead of going home she kept trotting away from me in the direction of the road; this hilarious game is known as "Can you catch me before I'm on the road? :)"

I did not want to play. I had wood to gather, and Pirlouit was still tied to his tree and he hates being left behind, like a poor beast of burden abandoned by men. He was already braying angrily. I decided to wash my hands of Pampe, which sometimes works to make her go home. You need to act supremely uninterested in her for it to work. If you glance back at her she'll assume you're still playing, and continue prancing about in the woods.

I'm great at not glancing back. If Eurydice was my llama I would have saved her no problem. I went back to collecting wood, never paying attention to Pampe, even when Pirlouit turned around and stared in the direction of the road, his ears alert, doing his best to inform me that Pampe was going in this not-allowed direction.

Stop it, Pirou. We're ignoring her. Do you want me to leave you alone again? I bet she'll get bored before she even reaches the road, and if she doesn't, well, godspeed. Someone somewhere will get a free llama and she will be their problem. (I had a busy to-do list of my own for this afternoon so the question of how she escaped from her pasture is a problem for tomorrow-me.)

But then I went home and drafted some Pirlouit photos on tumblr to write a post tonight about our wood-gathering walk—and I read some asks from this week that I hadn't yet got around to reading, and I found this. (@confusedpersonsposts Thank you for sending it!) A wandering llama, terrorising horses. The article says this happened Sunday morning.

(I really love the shade that makes this look like a police lineup)

The second ask said "yesterday" (and was from a few days ago)—but the first one I saw was the message with the screenshot from the article, which said Sunday morning, which was exactly when I left Pampe walk away by herself and told her to go be someone else's problem.

For a second, in my brain, it made some kind of sense.

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

-----------------------------♟️----------------------------------

When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.

[fairygodpiggy]

Roevember Day 1: Name

Eyri Styrbraena [EYE-ree steer-BRAY-nah] Translation: Wandering Starbreaker

Her true name is unknown except to herself and those few survivors of Poor Maid's Mill in Upper La Noscea. In fact, the village rarely, if ever, documented the births of their peoples, so there were no documents to strike the name from.

Ever a superstitious populace, the villagers believed in a prophecy that signaled the next great calamity - one that would give rise to a powerful, undying being that would cleave the Star in two: The Starbreaker.

When one night, a young Seawolf girl fell from the remains of the great Thalaos to the rocks below, the villagers' grief over the fatal accident swiftly transformed to fear and fury. The young girl woke from death, as if from sleep. She was thrown to the wilds in hopes that the wildlife would finish her off in her weakened state - a desperate attempt by those too cowardly to shed the blood themselves.

After some years, as the red moon descended in the sky, the restless village of Poor Maid's Mill learned of the girl's continued survival in Limsa Lominsa. This sent them into a frenzy. The calamity they so feared was upon them, they believed, and they had brought about their own end by not taking care of the Wandering Starbreaker.

Eyri took on the moniker of ill omen - out of spite at first. Replacing her given name, she wears this as a badge of hope that she would save the Star, not break it.

[prompt list]

bonus isolated shots of young Eyri and current-day Eyri

[bonezone44]

"So, I get the Reader to blow me first, okay?" "Uh-huh..." "And then you come in and start callin her 'pobrecita' --" "Yeah, yeah, I got that." "No, Javi, I don't think you do because last time, you started with 'princesa.'" "So what?" "So what? That ruins it for me. I don't want a little princess. I want a ... po-bray-seeta." Javi releases a large plume of smoke with a sigh. "Steve, steve, buddy." He gets in Steve's face. "You forget that... this is not about you, baby boy." He gives him two taps on the cheek before gripping Steve's chin in his hand. "It's about Reader... and what her poor little pussy needs."

[circeswhore]

It was a simple arrangement. You always did accuse bustier women of having "more tits than brains" so being able to exchange one for the other seemed reasonable. And you were clever! You had a mind that actually worked, that wasn't filled with hot pink bubbles and rotted out with platinum blonde hair dye, so you figured that you could trade away some of your intelligence and still be reasonably smart and add a little bit more to your bust. It was a win-win. Your thumb hovered over the button on your phone, a small wave of apprehension staying your hand, relying on a deep breath to push through it. As soon as you push the button, the world shifts around you.

The changes are subtle. You don't feel any less intelligent, though you know from experience that it's a hard thing to gauge on your own. You glance downward and your eyes go wide, not only shocked that you're sporting a pair of wobbly C cup tits, but you're actually wearing something to show them off! Nothing in your wardrobe was like this before and even your new bra is frillier and fancier than the plain, beige A cups society forced you to wear. Your knees come together as you give your breasts an experimental squeeze, their sensitivity far beyond anything you could have imagined. It feels incredible. For the first time, you feel sexy.

And the button still sits on your phone screen.

Your heart thunders in your chest. If one push did this, what would another one do? Or one after that? Your IQ doesn't seem to have dropped that much, so you could probably afford another push or two. Maybe even three.

Of course, the dumber you get, the harder it becomes to stop yourself. Your boobies just keep growing, pushing past DDs and Gs and Ms, your bra turning to lavish patterns and colors back to simple designs as your choice in bras becomes limited by size. As your brains shift to your tits, your wardrobe shifts, too, showing off more and more of your boobs to highlight the center of your personality. Your clothes become skintight and in bright, simple colors. Even your hair grows out, long wavy strands in a bright, dyed blonde. Other parts of your body plump up, too, mainly your ass and your lips, your face covered in make-up to advertise yourself as the bimbo you are.

By the end of it, you still don't feel dumb, but mostly because your sense of self-awareness has all but vanished. Your thumb is stuck between your plump lips, partially because it's comfortable and partially to keep yourself from drooling into your cleavage. You're a bubbly bimbo without a care or a thought in the world. Some of the words are a little tricky when you look at your phone again, but you manage to make out what it says: "Button makes boobies bigger?! Hehehe, okay! Like, whatever you say, Mr. Button!"

When the world settles down around you, things are very different. You're not wearing clothes at all, save for a headband on your head with two little horns. You're on your hands and knees, your massive breasts hanging beneath you, resting on the cold ground. A large and growing puddle of milk spreads out around you. You want to call for help, but your lips are full and clumsy, letting out instead a sound that sounds dangerously like a Moo! After a few moments of braying, the door in front of you swings open. "What is it, Lilac? What is it, little cow? Oh you poor thing. Did the suction cups come undone again?" The nice lady (who smells amazing) leads you back up to a place where you can lean forward, resting your arms and your knees against padded supports, your huge udders hanging beneath you. The milkers are a bit cold when they first grab hold of your nipples, but the temperature warms up quickly, watching as your milk races down the tubes. "There we go, that's better, isn't it?" Your owner sighs as she scratches behind your ear and under your chin. "Sometimes I wish you were smarter, Lilac. Maybe you would have been a real person like me instead of a cow. It's like being this busty left you with no brains left at all! Ah well. I'll be back to change out the canisters in a little bit."

💕💕💕

[sammaggs]

3x02 Eclipse | Nightmare

Stay with me on this one: I don’t think Marcus Ellory ever shows up to his mother's grave in Eclipse.

As truepenny points out in her typically-brilliant meta, Eclipse is written in the style of the Greek theatre's katabasis, a journey to the Underworld (followed by anabasis, the return to the world of the living). You've seen Hadestown? You've seen a katabasis.

This is another playwright John Krisanc joint, and as other people smarter than me have meta’d, Ray’s katabasis sees our hero venturing to the Underworld (a literal graveyard/crypt/grave); solving the riddle presented by the Underworld's guardian ("There. Now it's broken and it's working." "Good man."); learning a fundamental truth about the cyclical nature of life or undergoing a symbolic death of the past self; and then returning to the land of the living as a new or newly-knowledgeable person.

Ray Kowalski is tormented by Marcus Ellory as a symbol of his life up until this point. The two defining features of Ray Kowalski's life up until he meets Fraser are 1) Stella, and B) being a cop. "The point is, I mean, my whole life, it all starts and ends with this one guy."

But that part of Ray's life is over.

To make this a metaphor for queerness (as someone who personally married a man before coming out as a lesbian around Ray's age), in our mid-30s we're often forced to deconstruct the narratives of our lives that we've been so devoted to until this point. Have we been living for ourselves, or for other people? Has doing what society expects of us made us happy?

If you're closeted, the answer is usually going to be no. And that means you have to burn down your entire life to start fresh (the house, if you will). It means you have to grieve your past self—the one who had a heterosexual spouse and a house in the suburbs and did what society expected of you—in order to make room to rebirth your authentic self.

In the Underworld, and in the graveyard, Ray buries the man who wanted a wife; the man who wanted revenge on Ellory; the man who was a con job.

He's revived a man with a new partner, no longer motivated by vengeance, and who knows he's a damn good cop because he is.

So now that we've established all of that, let's get back to Ellory.

Ellory doesn't show up for his mother's funeral; by the time the mourners are leaving, he's still not there. "You know, Ray, I'm pretty sure he'll come," says Fraser, at 4:30PM. "We have time." But after Fraser gives Ray his own history back to him, Ellory still hasn't showed. They decide to leave, and Ray throws his dream catcher to the wind... where it's caught by Marcus Ellory.

"It's a dream catcher," says Fraser. "It tangles up bad dreams."

It tangles up bad dreams.

Ray puts on his glasses; he can't really see Ellory clearly. Then, once they end up together in the grave, no one else ever sees them. Fraser never sees Ellory. By the time Ray is reborn anew after the eclipse (literal darkness into light!), Ellory is nowhere to be seen. Suspicious!

I think the casting choice here, too, is deliberately made to make Ellory an allegorical figure as opposed to a literal one. Peter Bray, the actor, is 6'7". He's huge, and lying in the grave next to him, Ray looks even smaller than usual.

That's because we are seeing Marcus Ellory the way twelve-year-old Stan Kowalski would have. Huge, imposing, feet taller than him; essentially a cartoon villain. Ellory is exactly the same here as he is in Ray's memory, unchanged but for a little grey, even though twenty-three years have passed.

And then he disappears.

Ellory is the final boss of Ray's katabasis, his eclipse-fueled nightmare, tangled up in and cleansed by the dreamcatcher Fraser made him—just like Fraser's recitation of Ray's citations tangles up and cleanses Ray's own poor consideration of himself.

But it’s not about Ellory, y’know?? It has nothing to do with Ellory, not really, and everything to do with Ray’s own perception of himself and the story he tells himself about his own life. In this way, I think it’s more powerful a read if Ellory is not there; it’s all Ray. Just Ray, letting go of the man he thought he was and choosing to become the man he wants to be.

For me, Ellory’s just a bad dream. He’s a larger-than-life demon of Ray’s own making. He’s probably in hiding or dead, but Ray doesn’t actually need the real Ellory to exorcise that demon. He just needs the right angel.

Ray Kowalski dies and is reborn (like due South!), at the end of what I consider to be the two-part opener of Season 3.

Happy 27th birthday, Eclipse (Sept. X, 1997)! You're one of the all-timer episodes of TV.

[mekachu04]

13. Diner

Kidd - 13 | Killer - 17 | Victoria - 18

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Child (Kidd) in danger

Victoria beats up Kidd & Killer

Victoria mocks both their laughs

Victoria and Killer have been having sex together

It's been going on for a little while

She mocks him about poor sexual performance

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

"Hyunk it up, you sound like a fucking hyena choking on his own dick!" which only set Kidd off harder, falling back off his stool laughing as he looked up at Victoria's curry soaked dress. It had been her nicest yellow one, one of Killer's favourites, and now it was streaked like someone had shit down her chest.

The visual and her description of Kidd's laugh finally broke the dam on Killer's own chuckles, and he buried his forehead in in his crossed arms at the counter, laughing.

"Like you have any room to laugh," Victoria clearly found none of this amusing, "you fucking bray like donkey, you two pump chump!"

Killer reddened, swallowing uneasy, "Come on, Victoria. Don't be like that." He tried to take her hand and she jerked away, shoving him back into the counter. Kidd was wiping away tears of mirth from his spot on the floor, and a few patrons were starting to edge away uneasy. The owner was approaching, looked angry at the whole ordeal.

"Get out.." he growled.

Victoria sneered at the two boys before storming away. Killer glanced once down at Kidd before chasing after her. Kidd, still tangled in his fallen chair on the ground, smiled sweetly up at the owner. He did not smile back. "OUT!"

Kidd grumbled, following his two friends out to where they were arguing in the side alley, Killer /apologizing/ for laughing, much to Kidd's annoyance. "Come on Doruyanaika," he jeered, her turning away from Killer to glare at him, "You match your name! it's like... destiny!"

Killer cachinnated so hard he was shaking, and Victoria whirled back on him, her fist smashing into the side of his face and Killer went down, blindsided by the hit.

Something about seeing Victoria turn on Killer, that apparently all it had taken was some split curry, was endlessly funny to Kidd and he laughed at Killer's misfortune. Unfortunately, Victoria didn't care he wasn't laughing at her anymore, and she was hitting him next, a fury of fists and Kidd curled into a ball to try and avoid real damage. Killer came to his senses at some point, and tried to calm Victoria down just for her to turn on him again.

The two boys lay battered at her feet, Killer finally biting the bullet and called for mercy for her to stop. Victoria still looked at them in rage, and Kidd had never seen her so mad before. Her face so red he'd of thought she was crying if she hadn't just handed both of them their own asses.

Killer was still talking, trying to smooth things over only for Victoria to shove him away and he stumbled back against the wall, "I hope you drop dead. Don't you ever talk to me again." Before storming off and leaving them to lick their wounds.

Kidd's nose had been broken it turned out, and Killer had a concussion so bad he'd end up puking twice on the way home. Once they'd crawled back to the little shack that passed for home in those days, Kidd watched over his friend, forcing him to say awake at least until the world stopped spinning on him. "Why'd she call you two pump chump?"

"Its.... It's a sex thing; when a guy cums too quick. She was being mean."

"Oh..." Kidd was quiet, before laughing, "it sounds like you were trying to fuck her!"

Killer chuckled back, but it was forced and strained. Kidd turned to study him. "So, did you? Fuck her?"

"Never even kissed her."

<><><>

Years later, Kidd glanced at Killer in the mirror as he diligently wrung bath water out of his loose braid, pleated back for bed. Kidd pulled the toothbrush form his mouth, looking contemplative.

"...what?"

"Just was thinking about when we were kids."

"Oh?"

"When Vicky called you 2 Pump."

Killer scowled, "Figures you remember that."

"First time I caught you lying to me, blame it on that." he shrugged, returning to brushing his teeth.

Killer looked annoyed. "I have never lied to you."

"I do believe I asked if the two of you were screwing around, and you turned so red you looked like a pimple about to pop."

"That's fucking gross."

Kidd just shrugged. "With that fucking mullet you used to have, all red faced and embarrassed...."

"Can't believed you just called me a fucking pimple...."

"Lots worse I could of called you," he spit out toothpaste and rinsed his brush off, "You lied to my face."

"Nope." Killer popping on the 'P' as he rubbed lotion over his nose and across his cheek bones, before looking back at Kidd in the mirror, waiting for his rebuttal.

"Bullshit - I caught you two fucking in the bathroom of the curry joint multiple times. You were not as sneaky as you thought you were."

Killer froze, looking small for a moment, "You did?"

"Saw your white ass way more times than I wanted because you were terrible about locking the door. Had to stand there and keep anyone else from walking in on you two morons several times."

Kidd gargled some mouth wash, spitting it into the sink as Killer looked thoughtful.

"Ready to admit you lied?"

"No..." Killer said finally, very soft. "I didn't said we never fucked, I said we never kissed."

[labete-du-gevaudan]

The Lütoulang, or Donkey-Headed Wolf ( 驢頭狼 ) is said to roam the wilderness of China. It is typically described as having a wolf's body, a donkey's head, and clawed paws. It is said to either make the bray of a donkey or the howl of a wolf. The lütoulang is a predatory animal that is reportedly unafraid of humans. When its typical prey is unable to be found, it will hunt livestock or smaller human beings that it can overpower. They can reportedly run incredibly fast over long distances to chase down prey.

Some researchers, like biologist Liu Minzhuang, believed that the lütoulang was a surviving chalicothere. Cryptozoologist David C. Xu disagrees, pointing out that chalicothere were herbivores. Xu simply believes that the lütoulang was a wolf seen under poor conditions that lead to its odd appearance. Others offer hyenas or a kind of surviving Amphicyonidae.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 1, Poll 13

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave here.

Jedidiah A.A. Martin-Camp Here and There

Qualifications:

refuses to label his sexuality but BOY does he like men (looking at Mr Sargent for this one :3) also has ADHD! but its not known how attention deficient or hyperactive he is

also is a stupid cringefail loser who I want to push down a slide that's been fermenting in the sun all day during summer <3!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Propaganda:

Raised in a religious yet wealthy household, Jedidiah Abraham Adonias Martin--also known as "Jed", "Jeddie", "The archivist", "The clockmaker", or various misspellings and mispronunciations of his name--refuses to label his sexuality, but BOY does he like men (looking at Mr Sargent for this one), and also has ADHD! He may have dropped out of medical school and is "too repressed to write poetry", but he's still one of the camp nurses, alongside Sydney October Sargent! After talking to a bunch of birds, we found out that Jedididididiah will die on a Thursday (not a spoiler as of writing this). It has also been confirmed that he has a photo of Sydney on his desk (aww) and he plays D&D. Oh, and he's terrified of all things shelled. Would you like a snail as you think about voting for this loser? (affectionate)

Submitted by @spud-the-stupid

Ballister Boldheart-Nimona (Film)

Qualifications:

He has a boyfriend (and then they have a sort-of-breakup but they're back together by the end) and he has a prosthetic arm.

He’s gay and missing an arm.

He’s explicitly gay, in love with a man. He loses his arm then builds himself a prosthetic while on the run like a badass.

His boyfriend cut his arm off :( he uses a prosthetic now. His arm got chopped off after being falsely accused of killing the queen, he spends the rest of the movie with a prosthetic metal arm. His arm was also chopped off by his lover, Ambrosius Goldenloin, during said false assassination.

Canonically has a boyfriend and built his own prosthetic

Qualifies by both being canonically disabled (amputee) + canonically gay

Propaganda:

Please plz plz vote for him

His boyfriend cut off his arm. He made himself a prosthetic. He used his arm to block someone’s sword. He kissed his boyfriend. He has sad wet cat eyes, which isn’t relevant but still. He has them.

He’s so GOOD even though he’s having like the worst day ever (specifically talking about movie but webcomic also applies). He has the biggest wettest eyes how can you not root for him????

People love him! He kinda looks like a sad, poor little cat. A real soggy wet kitten man.

Let's see. He and Ambrosius are lovers, or at least boyfriends, from the moment they're introduced. Ballister gets his arm chopped off by Ambrosius during the false assassination. Ballister spends the rest of the movie trying to convince Ambrosius and the kingdom of his innocence, with a metal arm replacing his missing one. It originated the phrase "Arm Chopping is not a love language!" Did I mention he's a main character too?

Is a science nerd, built his own prosthetic arm with his non-dominant hand, accidentally adopted a trans chaos demon of a 1000yo being

A knight, Nimona's best friend and father figure of sorts, but the plot mostly revolves around him- Ballister is framed for murder and has to hide while trying to figure out who framed him and how to prove he's innocent. Nimona becomes his sidekick (he didn't want one, she just showed up at his place one day like a very chaotic stray cat) and together they form a great duo against the corrupt government. This is complicated by Ballister's ex Ambrosius, who accidentally cut off Ballister's arm and is a bit brainwashed by government propaganda. Oops. You should watch Nimona it's great 💞🦈

Submitted by @foulfirerebel (fifth person) and at least 7 others.

[hedgehog-moss]

I decided to dedicate a post to Mama Pampy! Who rarely gets the spotlight on this blog, because well-behaved llamas seldom make history... I mentioned yesterday that she's the matriarch of her little herd (for new followers: Pampelune aka Pampy is Pampe's mother and Poldine's grandma), but I didn't really go into what that entails. It means she's a precious help to me when it comes to curbing Pampe's fight for freedom, because she has the authority to call the other llamas back when they wander too far away from her.

(Note that this didn't apply when Pampe was a teenager. Teen!Pampe obeyed her mother rarely and/or accidentally and thought nothing of wandering away all on her own. But ever since becoming an adult and having her own baby, she's slowly started paying more attention to Pampy's alarm sounds and other commands. She grudgingly accepted the bare minimum amount of responsibility required to keep her child alive.)

If the other two llamas wander off and Pampelune is able to follow, she'll follow in order to keep an eye on them; but conversely if you make sure Pampy can't follow, then the others won't stray too far. So I can let the llamas out to trim the grass around my house without haltering Pampe or Poldine; I just have to keep Pampy close to me. To no one's surprise, she keeps her eye on 1 llama in particular—

If her daughter wanders too far, Pampy will utter a firm "muh!" and Pampe will reluctantly return. (It's more of a "moo", really, but since llama and cow languages are clearly not in the same family and probably don't have mutual intelligibility, I'll use different spellings so it's not confusing.)

Pampelune knows who is and isn't part of her herd. The hens are outside of her jurisdiction but Pirlouit is not—she doesn't talk to him, because he never muhs back, but she does spit on him sometimes which means he is an honourary llama to her (a dubious honour, if you ask Pirlouit) and she also quietly checks on him, especially when she's out of the pasture while he is stuck on the other side of the fence, alone.

I hope this foray into llama herd dynamics isn't too boring; I'll add that I can't let Pirlouit free roam along with the llamas because he would follow Pampe if she starts wandering off, and Pampe loves having Followers. It immediately goes to her head and she'll often stop listening to her mum and trot away if she's managed to recruit disciples (that's also why Pandolf is not in these pictures. He's locked in the kitchen because he would not only follow Pampe but heartily encourage her to go somewhere. Pan is a rule-follower but within the realm of reason, i.e. if going for a walk is wrong then he doesn't want to be right.)

Poldine following Pampe isn't a problem though, because she is very respectful of her grandma's authority, so if anything she's a good influence on Pampe. At some point she wandered a bit too far while grazing and a stern "muh!" was heard, and she immediately came back and stood at attention behind her chief.

Her attitude with regards to her grandma / matriarch reminds me of this kid:

It's not all work for Pampy, she does get to eat too, but always with one ear angled in the general direction of Pampérigouste.

Meanwhile I read and have a glass of apéritif—llama outings usually happen in the evening as an extra precaution (you can never be too prudent when you let Pampe free roam)—the llamas don't like being out of their pasture at night, so they'll go home without a fuss when it starts to get dark.

Sorry for the poor quality, this is extra zoomed in, but I just realised I managed to capture one of our elusive cow neighbours in this one photo!

One of the few advantages of an abnormally warm autumn is that the herds are still out... You can hear the clarines (cow bells) in the distance, it's such a peaceful sound. Besides the bells, evening bird calls and Pampy's disciplinary muhs, the only other sound is the occasional heart-wrenching braying from Pirlouit. Stuck in the pasture all alone. Deprived of grass, empty of hope, unloved. (He gets to go out for frequent donkey-only outings but that doesn't make the present unfairness of his situation sting any less apparently)

Bringing everyone home when my apéritif is finished is quite easy, all I have to do is offer some muesli to Pampy. No matter where she is, Pampe's head will spring up, indignant.

Pampelune isn't even really into muesli, she prefers fresh fruit peelings, but Pampe won't take any risks.

(Pampe's nose is all scratched because she got very annoyed with flies last month and kept rubbing her face on things to remove them... Thankfully now that the nights are colder, she's finally rid of them!)

Once Pampe is back in the pasture I can let Pandolf out! He'll run a few circles around Poldine then escort her back home, not that she wouldn't follow the other llamas without any prompting, but you've got to let Pan be a sheepdog sometimes, he's so happy to contribute. Sometimes I even let Pirlouit out so that Pan can immediately bring him back in. Once all four animals are in the pasture he'll turn to me like "Everyone's home safely! Just before night! Thanks to me, Pandolf" and I'll make amazed noises at his excellent herding.

[brandwhorestarscream]

TFP Reincarnation au

Today i'm not in the mood for unhappy endings. How about the ending being like the one in " megaop twins au"?With the war ending positively for the Decepticons?

It's because i want Orion having a life with his bf and they multiples sparklings? Yes. SS and SW having healthier frames so the can have they little ones?too. I have ideias for others like Tfp Prowl, for example? yeah

So... consider. In this situation, Orion isn't turned back into Optimus Prime. Not permanently, anyway. The autobots manage to steal him back from the cons, nabbing his firstborn reincarnated bitty as well. They get the recently recharged Matrix back into him, but something is Wrong™

Mainly that the baby's health takes a turn for the worst. They've been screaming and crying ever since Optimus returned to them, and the Prime himself has no memory of his infant. It's very clearly his child, looks just like him, but he has no recollection of ever being sparked, no knowledge of this tiny baby. And the poor kid is spiraling: they're so, so little, and Orion's spark is distinctly different from Optimus. They are functionally different people. The baby cries and carries on fir hours, days, until they run out of energy and wilt. They're limp and unresponsive curled up in a little ball, wracked with fever and shaking, vents shallow and wheezing. All they do is whimper and cover away from anyone who approaches them, and brays mournfully at his mother-not-mother whenever Optimus gets too close

Ratchet's the only one qualified to diagnose the issue, but they can all tell the sparkling is dying. Suffering from a shattered maternal bond, and he's so little it's killing him. He's doomed to a slow, painful death as his spark dwindles without support and his systems shut down one by one

Optimus can't stand to watch it happen. He knows the sparkling will die if they continue on this way, and... he doesn't have it in him to let the little one extinguish. There's only one thing to do, and he removes the Matrix from his chest late at night while watching over the bitty in the medbay.

When Orion returns to consciousness, his last memory before everything went black was that group of strangers abducting him and his son, and he's horrified when he sees what state his baby is in. He grabs the kid, straps them into his alt mode, and peels out of the base as fast as possible. Hailing Megatron on his comms, saying he's escaped and mini-Orion desperately needs medical attention. Thankfully, they're able to stabilize the baby with an energon infusion and close spark-to-spark contact with his mother. Crisis averted

Idk exactly how going about achieving peace between them all would go, but. Nyeh. It's not important and I'm lazy. Perhaps Orion discovers his true calling as a diplomat, maybe the decepticons succeed with the Iacon Database and are victorious. Whatever works

Point is, Megop get to go home to Cybertron as equals, and start building a proper life for their bitties together. All's well that ends well

As for Starscream and Soundwave, it's not so much an issue of their bodies not being healthy, but rather their bodies not being the right size. As I mentioned before, their Aligned designs are much more streamlined than previous iterations, sleek and made for extreme speed rather than physical combat. It's not surprising they'd struggle with babies that are chunkier akin to their previous iterations. If they were to get caught in the reincarnation loop, there's no way the carrying cycles would be undiscovered, and they'd likely have to undergo cesarean.