#OR WAS IT UNWILLING

[dearmyloveleys]

May I present something I find heart wrenching to the fandom: Li Lun’s rattle never used to be a full fledged weapon. Somewhere along the way, he replaced the branch head with a spear/dagger tip

[phanfuckingtasmal]

im sorry but i cannot stop thinking about isha's pastel memories that play during her sacrifice scene.

look at how full of colour this beautiful fuckin shot is:

it's been well established in episodes 4-6 how grim and dark the undercity has become under cait and ambessa's new rule. but look at how isha sees/remembers it - because of jinx.

jinx, who went through a severe childhood trauma that has carried over into her present self - she covers extremely destructive weapons and grenades in bright pinks and blues, neons, childlike doodles, graffiti. (joy and destruction, powder and jinx, a contrast so striking it becomes like a signature for her).

and then we see the world through isha's eyes. when we meet her in episode 2, she's running through sewers, from goons dressed in black; it's grimy and grim. and then all of her recent memories are done in these childlike pastel, almost crayon-y sketches. because what isha saw was jinx covering a dark and grim world in colours.

and so isha covered her world in colour, too.

because jinx made her world bright.

isha looked at jinx and saw the child in her. she saw powder and she saw jinx. she saw joy and destruction. and that's why jinx gave isha so much hope. isha knew the world was grim and dark - but then she watched jinx, and she learned that you can paint over all that grim darkness with neon blue spray paint.

that's why isha believed in hope. that's why in her final moments - in a scene that is lit dimly and dramatically - she sees nothing but a bright world coloured in pastels.

never underestimate the hope of a child.

[5850154587]

if you think about it, the zuiyin is kinda like their cutie mark 🎠

[mugentakeda]

consensual workplace situationship

[galaxyspeaking]

He’s filled his house with chintz. To keep it real I fuck him on the floor.

[i-ges]

Twilight moments with you

[three-semicolons]

Prompt: Dick Grayson has worn all too many faces in his life. Richard Grayson, Richie Wayne, Robin, Nightwing, Batman, Renegade, Agent 37, the Gray Son, Crutches, Ric Grayson… the list goes on.

So when Nightwing is kidnapped and drugged via truth serum, and his kidnappers ask for his true identity, Dick responds with “I don’t know”.

This has consequences.

[compaculaaa]

You sure you don’t know how to dad?

[puppykinkbloguwu]

Bunny girl who keeps “accidentally” going into wolf territory. They always catch the small runt. To teach her to stay out, the wolves pound her pussy raw. Every wolf gets a turn to do whatever they want to the small thing. Sometimes multiple wolves at once, stretching her every hole. They make her choke on their cock as they use her ears as to shove her mouth further down to make sure she swallows every drop. Finally after everyone gets a turn (or multiple) they force her back to her territory covered with wolf cum. The wolves think this time she’ll get the lesson, but the dumb thing always wanders back.

[d0gtoothjones]

Family Portrait, Overexposed [x]

[the-artificem]

god she probably already thought she was going to die here you can literally see her life flashing before her eyes and all the regret and guilt she's been feeling. imagine her thinking that after just getting vi back she's gonna lose her again without even getting the chance to fix everything she did

[aceoflanterns]

i think the thing that gets me most is that jayce is ultimately responsible for the creation of the machine herald. in the name of saving viktor, he unknowingly condemned him to the prison of his mind and body. in loving viktor, jayce saved him. in loving viktor, jayce doomed him. god they make me fucking crazy.

[critterbitter]

Thinking about pokemon teams helping coparent… ahh.

Masterpost for more of my shenanigans!

[misctf]

The Summer Break Curse

Grant sighed as he sat at the edge of his bed, his handsome features captured in the mirror in front of him. His graduation cap and gown thrown aside. His senior year finally over... summer right around the corner... His heart pounding in his chest. Today was the day- as it had been each year for the past few years. His mind raced as he thought back to that day...

____________

"No rest shall come with June’s bright light, No freedom found in summer’s night. While others laugh in pools and shade, You’ll count the hours, underpaid."

When Grant first read the lines to the strange poem he found stuffed into his gym bag four years prior, he laughed it off. Where the fuck had it come from? And who the fuck put it there? Grant decided not to think much of it. After all, he was looking forward to his first summer break. Freshman year had been a wild ride- a roller coaster of an adventure. Work-outs, frat parties, hot chicks... his older brothers were right when they said college would be life changing. And with a calendar full of beach trips, bonfires, and workouts planned, Grant didn't have time to bother deciphering the strange message.

But whether he thought about it much or not, he wouldn't have a choice but to confront it. The night before his planned vacation to Miami, Grant was busy packing. Tank-tops, shorts, even a speedo were thrown haphazardly into his travel bag. Grant's fingers curled around another tank top, yanking it free from the dresser drawer, as he shoved it carelessly inside his duffel bag. His biceps flexed beneath sun-kissed skin - toned muscles honed from countless push-ups and football practice. Grant ran his hands over his defined abs, a smirk playing at his lips as he patted down his six-pack. Summer bod was in peak condition.

As Grant stood there admiring his physique, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the dresser. What the hell? He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. That's when he noticed it. His hands. They were... changing. His slender fingers began to thicken, growing meatier and more calloused. Dark hairs sprouted across the backs of his hands, spreading up his wrists and forearms. Grant watched in horror as his biceps doubled in size, filling with muscle and fat.

"Holy shit..." Grant breathed, his voice already sounding deeper than before.

The changes didn't stop at his arms. Grant felt a tightness in his chest, a pressure building behind his sternum. He looked down to see his pecs expanding initially with muscle, then sagging with fat. A thick mat of itchy, dark fur spreading across his pectorals and abdomen, gradually covering more and more of his torso.

"Oh god, oh fuck..." Grant groaned, his voice now a deep, gravelly rumble.

Grant's stomach began to swell, pushing outwards and upwards. His washboard abs softened and disappeared beneath a layer of pudgy flesh. Soon, a proper beer gut hung over his groin, swaying slightly with each labored breath. He grabbed a fistful of his flabby abdomen- his hands sinking into the doughy flesh... rubbing against his new fur. Grant recoiled- sickened by these sensations. This wasn't him... this would never be him...

But no thought could stop it... Grant's thighs thickened, becoming powerful and tree-trunk like. His calves bulged with new muscle, his feet growing larger to accommodate his expanding frame. Even his ass was getting bigger, the cheeks spreading wider and softer. But the most shocking change happened between his legs. Grant watched in disbelief as his cock shrunk up and fattened up. His pubic hair grew thicker and wilder, soon forming a dense forest around his new chode.

"Jesus Christ," Grant wheezed, running a hand over his newly hairy body, "What the fuck is happening to me?" 

Grant stared at his new self in the mirror, taking in every detail of his transformation. Gone was the fit, toned college stud. In his place stood a hairy, overweight bear of a man in his mid-30s. His face had changed too - more weathered skin, stubble darkening his cheeks and neck, eyes dull...

And suddenly, he could only watch helplessly as his hands moved on autopilot, rummaging through drawers and tossing clothes onto the bed.

"Wh-what the fuck..." Grant stammered mentally, his physical form seemingly acting of its own accord.

Without waiting for input, the bear-like version of him tugged on a stained white t-shirt, stretching the fabric taut over his soft belly and hairy chest. Then came faded jeans, ones that looked like they'd seen far too many days mowing lawns and edging sidewalks. Shoes, socks, a cap emblazoned with some garden center logo.

The newly transformed Grant lumbered out to the garage. He slid into the driver's seat of his car, the leather creaking under his substantial weight. As he reached for the ignition, memories not his own started flooding his mind. Summer after summer of maintaining the sprawling college campus. The smell of freshly cut grass, the burn of the sun on his neck. Sweat-soaked shirts clinging to his hairy back as he pushed a mower or trimmed hedges.

"I'm...I'm the fucking summer groundskeeper?" Grant thought in shock and revulsion, watching his hands start the car and shift into reverse, "No, no, this can't be happening!"

That first summer passed in a haze of sweaty, grueling labor for the trapped Grant. He spent his days trudging around the green spaces, pushing a mower in the blistering heat. Trimming hedges, pulling weeds. His hands were rough and calloused within weeks, dirt permanently etched under his nails. His hairy arms ached as he pushed the mower, sweat pouring down his equally hairy back. The days blurred - rise at dawn, spend twelve plus hours bent over or lifting in the oppressive heat, then collapse into bed. No more lounging poolside, sipping cold beers with buddies. No summer spent partying or lounging at the beach. Even the evenings brought no relief. He quickly discovered more than he wanted to know about the groundskeeper. Each night, he'd watch as the man pulled up gay porno sites - always beefy, hairy guys. Grant recoiled internally each time the groundskeeper wrapped a callused paw around his chubby dicklet, fapping desperately. But soon, the feeling overwhelmed even his mind and he basked in the pleasure of their shared release.

And as summer finally drew to a close, the spell lifted as abruptly as it had taken hold. Grant woke up one morning back in his own dorm room, his muscular, well-groomed college athlete body restored. Relief crashed over him, tears pricking his eyes as he confirmed every inch of himself was normal again. He stumbled through the first week of classes in a daze, avoiding his friends' concerned questions about his disappearance. How could he possibly explain it? Grant smiled weakly as he walked into the dining hall, nodding along as his buddies ribbed him about his absence. Inside though, panic and confusion reigned. But with the start of sophomore year, he was ready to try and leave it all behind...

But Grant couldn't escape his fate. As each spring semester ended, the cycle repeated with grim predictability. The night before summer began, that sick dread would grip him, the magic of the transformation bubbling beneath his skin. He'd watch helplessly as he contorted and reshaped into that familiar form - the sight of that bulky, hairy older man would fill his mirror. The summers bled together - long days sweltering in the sun, pushing a mower, trimming and pruning in a cycle he couldn't break. Every sunset brought that shameful solitary ritual, the slick glide of palm against his shaft, until release. All those glorious summer plans - beach weeks, festival lineups, internships - fell away unfilled, abandoned. Only to return to his athletic form and his life as a college student on the first day of fall classes...

__________________

And so here he was. The night of his graduation. Heart still pounding in his chest. He begged, pleaded silently... Surely, graduating would be enough to break whatever strange enchantment had held him captive these past summers. He was done with college, moving on to the next chapter of his life. Graduation parties, a beach trip... after years of missing out, he could only hope.

Grant closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he waited for the inevitable. The seconds stretched into minutes, the minutes into hours. Nothing happened. He opened one eye cautiously when the clock struck midnight. And the tension drained from his body. Tentatively, he ran his hands over his arms and chest, marveling at the firm muscles and smooth skin. No unwanted hair, no softening belly, no aches from a day's hard labor. He was finally, completely himself again.

"It's over..." He whispered with a small chuckle, "Fuck yeah, it's over..."

Elation filled him, tears of joy threatened to fall. He grabbed his phone to text his friends about their summer plans.

Ding

His heart stopped. An email from the university. Subject line: "Congratulations." Probably just a follow-up from graduation. He opened it, eyes scanning the email rapidly. His smile faltered, brow furrowing in confusion. He scrolled back up, rereading over and over, barely registering the tingling spreading through his body.

"But, this doesn't...no..." His eyes kept scanning the email.

An official job offer... A full-time, permanent position as a year-round groundskeeper. They praised his dedication and hard work over the past few summers. He felt mocked... he felt sick... The curse...it wasn't broken at all. It was...

"AAHHH! FUCK!!!" Grant cried out, dropping his phone as a searing, electric tingling exploded across his skin.

This time, the transformation felt different - raw, primal, overwhelming. Yet it was different than before... slower, more deliberate and intimate. Each change seemed amplified, the sensations more vivid and real. Hair sprouted from his pores, coarse and wiry, spreading in an ever-widening patchwork across his body. Grant's eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners as he felt the inexorable changes overtake his body. His muscles swelled and hardened, growing denser and more pronounced. Biceps bulged, shoulders broadened, chest expanded. But it wasn't the lean, sculpted physique of an athlete. This was the heavy, solid build of a laborer, all power and no finesse. His abdomen rounded out, softening into a paunch that continued to grow into a respectable gut. His ass growing wider and softer. Thighs thickened, calves beefed up. His cock, now nestled in a thick thatch of wiry curls, shrank as it fattened up. Even with his eyes closed, he knew what he was becoming. And deep down he knew now this was no fleeting summer curse. This was finality, inevitability. The magic saturating his cells promised that he would never again return to his former self.

Tears streamed down Grant's face as the transformation reached its climax, his body now fully remade. He knew what came next... Grant braced himself, expecting to find himself imprisoned in his own mind once more, a silent observer to the groundskeeper's simple existence. He shuddered at the thought of reliving those endless summer days - the backbreaking labor, the loneliness, the shameful solo nights spent with gay porn. As the initial shock subsided, Grant tentatively tried to move, to assert control. To his surprise and horror, his body obeyed without hesitation. When he wanted to stand, it rose easily, joints creaking. When he took a step, it carried him forward purposefully. There was no disconnect, no division between his consciousness and the physical form housing it.

As the realization crashed over him, Grant staggered, his new body trembling. And then he felt it. Unfamiliar yet somehow comforting sensations and thoughts flood his mind. The aches in his muscles from a hard day's work, the satisfaction of a job well done, the simple pleasure of a cold beer after mowing the lawns. And to his shock, Grant realized he craved it. Wanted it. Loved it. The brute strength in his arms, the hairy expanse of his chest, the heavy thud of his footsteps. Even the lonely nights spent pleasuring himself to the sights of other hairy, muscular men. It all called to him now, felt like coming home. The sheer horror and cognitive dissonance proved too much for Grant to handle. Grant's mind simply shut down. His knees buckled, vision tunneling. With a choked sob, he collapsed backwards onto the bed and in that moment between wakefulness and oblivion, one final, terrifying thought crystallized in his fading awareness: this was his reality now. The groundskeeper's life, the groundskeeper's body, the groundskeeper's desires. They were his. Grant, as he had known himself, was gone. Forever.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, rousing Grant from his unconscious state. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his mind as he took in the expanse of his hairy chest and gut, and felt the weight of his changed body. But as awareness returned, so too did the comfortable sensations and thoughts that had flooded him the night before. Rising from the bed with a contented groan, Grant stretched his hairy, bulky arms above his head, savoring the pull of his powerful new physique and the smell of his ripe pits.

With a groan, he reached for his phone, clicking open a familiar app. Videos of burly, hairy men soon played, and Grant lost himself as his burly hand wrapped around his chub, stroking lazily as he drank in the erotic sights as he'd done many times before. Any feelings of strangeness melted away, replaced by pure, uncomplicated arousal and contentment. As he finished with a guttural moan, any lingering doubts melted away, replaced by pure, guilty pleasure. He quickly cleaned up with a damp rag, then dressed in dirty jeans and a wife-beater. And so began another routine day in the fulfilling life of the college groundskeeper, living and loving every minute as his new nature demanded.

[cloudyfloss]

an especially happy father's day to lancer and his five dads. here's to hoping he adds more to his collection

[pissradio]

i think its very hot when someone has to go so badly theyre grabbing their crotch to try and stop it but especially when its clear that they're already holding themselves as tightly as they can but it still can't stop the piss from coming out so they start leaking around their hand, and every time wet spot gets bigger they try to squeeze harder until they just can't take it anymore and let go with a loud hisssss