#chai rambles

[chaioticcoffee]

guys. . .. GUYS. THIS IS A BIG WIN FOR ME

I just got back from the motorcycle dealership and I FINALLY will get my dream bike and I??? just realised??

MAY THE 4TH.

IS WHEN I GET IT OFFICIALLY . AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY BIKE LOOKS LIKE? TAHTS RIGHT

THE BAD BATCH ARMOR 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I name all my stuff so feel free to give me name suggestions

also @techs-stitches might be for u cuz I know u and I love bikes relating tbb sorry if I'm bothering with the tag 😭

[insomniiyac]

I actually adore the fact that his face paint is part of his expression and personal symbol- hence why I took it away for the protege au. 📚

Part of Protege!Ekko’s misery isn’t just because he’s forced to work with his opps, but also lack of expression. The clothes that he wears was given and tailored to him by Jayce, but it’s uncomfortable and it isn’t loose-fitting.

Ekko’s Topcity clothes are things that Jayce thinks fits him. And it does to an extent- he wears it well! But with the face paint being frowned upon (and outright banned due to “gang affiliation” during his probation)- he feels like just another NPC.

It’s uncomfortable for him, but he puts up with it for the sake of getting released on time.

[chaieyestea]

The world won’t wait for you to heal

[gas-station-chai]

I ship them but in a "definitely on their 3rd divorce" way

[aph-japan]

re: P.k.m.n S.V.

P.k.m.n S.V. GET

Spoiler tags will thus be: - #pkmn: gv (my general game-verse tag) - #pkmn: sv - #pkmn sv: art - #pkmn sv: caps - #pkmn sv: official - #pkmn spoilers - #sv spoilers

It'll be a while (at least a day) before I post any caps/vids, so don't worry about that, but I'll try to tag everything. (I might post if I can find a Shiny, etc.)

[tyblackthornsheadphones]

whether you’re a religious jew or not, i urge all of you to turn off your phones on shabbat. i did this yesterday. i read a whole book, i spent time with my family, i gave myself a day of rest where i didn't have to open up social media and see post after post about the war by people who are not affected by it in the slightest. and i felt guilty at first, because not everyone can ignore the war by turning off their phones, but it was so nice to have a day of peace and rest

[calciumcryptid]

Kinn would use pet names because he is the type of dork who would find them genuinely romantic.

Kim would use pet names because he thinks it gets him a good grade in boyfriend, a normal and possible thing to want to achieve.

Vegas would use pet names because he is trying to exert ownership in the ways deemed socially acceptable, but he has to be pretentious about it.

[shmuzzieheart]

Made myself Technoblade and Philza bracelets

[insomniiyac]

Reactivated my Twitter account to spend time with moots, looked around, and the noped out after seeing shit takes on the TL.

I think I’ve outgrown Twitter fr.

[chaichaiiskai]

Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.

If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.

notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.

warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.

The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.

However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.

As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.

One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.

"He's there! There!"

He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.

And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.

With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.

The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.

From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.

The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.

You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.

After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.

Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.

Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.

Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.

Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.

For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.

The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.

. . .

Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.

But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.

Consuming a wasp.

The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.

Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.

Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.

Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.

. . .

The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.

Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.

Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.

And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.

You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.

To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.

Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...

[arctic-bookclub]

god i can’t stop thinking about how the (core) death family really is such a well fitting puzzle that when even one piece js gone it shows and affects the rest :(

like the death family is incomplete without qmissa, he carries such a huge role in the emotional wellbeing of things, he shines were qphil lacks; the death family is incomplete without qphil, the man consistently keeping the kids alive and fed, he can keep the kids alive but he struggles with the things beyond it, things beyond mere survival; and the kids, we saw how thoroughly their absence affected qphil and qmissa, how tallulah sleeping alone at her old home made the bunker feel so empty and incomplete, how without chayanne this little family would’ve never been formed in the first place. they all fulfill roles that no one else can perform in their place, tallulah and qmissa carry the artistic side and emotional knowledge of the family, qphil and chayanne carry the survivalist aspect of the family with experience and cooking. the family has had to adapt to the absence of members in the past, especially when the kids disappeared, and the toll it takes shows so clearly every time. they are only truly complete with each other, they are a family with so many troubles and ailments that could so easily be fixed by just them all being present, and yet they’re cursed to always miss one. they are always stuck adapting and filling roles to make up for an absence, and crumbling under the pressure each time

[rakkuntoast]

i like doing silly self indulgent low-effort comics

[secriden]

i think the reason why i find the idea of kim writing Why Don't You Stay for chay so compelling is because its the one thing in their relationship that was wholly and completely theirs.

every other interaction is tainted by the fact that chay will always wonder if kim was there because of chay's connection with porsche. but their first meeting was a coincidence, and the actual process of making music together had nothing to do with kim's investigation. if anything, it's the best evidence that chay meant something to kim. everything else - every time kim showed an interest in chay's past, background, family traditions, thoughts and feelings - is suspect, but the actual act of making music together, and their shared love of composing and writing, is just theirs.

and it's chay's kim who's a part of this. not kim theerapanyakul - not the hunter in the shadows, forged by his father into being the perfect enforcer. this is the part of kim that he's fought for years to keep for himself. not quite wik, the public persona that smiles winningly at his fans, but still kinder and sweeter and more open than anything the 3rd theerapanyakul son could be.

which is why when kim realises that nothing he can do is going to disentangle chay from the theerapanyakul family (not when kinn and porsche are together now), when he realises that he's broken chay's heart for nothing (because even without kim's involvement, chay is now a viable tool for his father's manipulations), he writes.

because this was the only way chay's kim ever spoke to him.

[hiemaldesirae]

there was an ask i got a while back that brought up the idea of vox pulling away from alastor (while they were still friends) because he figured alastor was only using him for entertainment and al in turn becomes the biggest wifeguy alive to keep vox by his side and. well. my fingers got itchy

Vox stares forlornly at the photograph held gingerly between his claws. It had been taken some time (comparatively) early on in his friendship with Alastor- the date of August 16th, 1967 was scrawled in Vox's own unsteady, drunken penmanship. He'd been plastered to the roof when they'd taken the photo, which, now that he thinks of it, was probably the only reason Alastor had ever agreed to it in the first place.

He mulled over that conversation once more, as if he hadn't been at this for a month. The stack of papers that Husk had passed him with a worried look and a huff laid neatly stacked next to the transcripts of the confirmation calls he'd had with Mimzy after Husk had told him.

He only sees you as entertainment, Husk had said. It's how he functions. I don't know if he's had a genuine relationship with anyone other than Mimzy and Rosie, and even then the chances are slim.

And Vox had wanted to believe that he was wrong. God, he'd hoped so badly that Husk was wrong. But- the Overlord had never once led him wrong before, had he? And he had no reason to lie to Vox about this.

His hands shook as he took the picture and tenderly placed it back into the drawer where he'd taken it from.

Even if the first friendship- the first ever taste of love he'd gotten, in life or death- he'd managed to strike up in Hell had been one built on lies and for Alastor's- entertainment, he still didn't want that proof of the simpler, happier times to disappear.

So it was with a heavy heart that Vox prepared to bid farewell to his first and dearest friend.

One thing that Husk had made sure to make absolutely crystal clear to him was that Vox should not, under any circumstances, be the one to let Alastor down gently.

At least, not directly- Vox had disagreed with this line of thinking, believing that Alastor deserved to know the truth, but then Husk had shown him what Alastor had done to the couple past demons who had dared to do the same and Vox found his protests drying up on his tongue as quickly as they'd come to him.

"Well, what do I do then?" Vox had cried, practically faceplanting all 15 pounds of his CRT television head into Husk's bar counter. To his credit, the Overlord hardly even batted an eyelid before sending one of his thralls to clean up his despondent kid's mess. "I don't wanna just fake my death or something!"

"I wasn't gonna say for you to do that, but actually, that might be a good idea if the Radio Freak doesn't take the initial plan well," Husk mused, before he caught sight of Vox's- frankly heartbroken looking- face and sighed. "No, the idea is to get him to think it's his idea. Start by gradually distancing yourself so you're no longer attached by the hip- Lord knows you needed a healthy sense of distance from him, anyway- and then move to blowing off his plans and stuff. For valid reasons, like say Rosie scheduled you in first or something and you couldn't leave without invoking her wrath. Make yourself some new damn friends, for God's sakes. It'll make it harder for him to wage revenge on you if you've got allies backing you up."

Husk could see his kid's face gradually growing paler with every word, and he internally sighed. Fucking Alastor, and his need to ruin every good thing that passed him by. "And if it gets to that point, which it shouldn't, I'll protect you first. An alliance with Ol' Bambi is not worth more than your wellbeing, котенок."

"I know," Vox said quietly. He tapped his hands on the counter for a second before standing up, a sad look on his face. "I just... I might need a little to come to terms with things."

"Of course," Husk nodded understandingly. "You take all the time ya need, got it?"

"Yes, dad," Vox rolled his eyes, though the sad expression on his screen had brightened considerably and he now managed to give Husk a weak smile. "Really. I'll call or something if I need you."

That was weeks ago. Vox had started to put 'Plan Pull Vox Out of a Toxic Friendship' into full play a little while ago, occasionally turning down Alastor's invitations to soirees, operas, theatres and the like and instead focusing on his work. Before, he would have dropped everything just to accompany Alastor, which was something Vox was suspecting the other demon had already known and potentially specifically chosen him for because it made him more entertaining.

In any case, things had been going smoothly. Vox had even managed to start a few new projects, the most impressive of which was a part mechanical part organic demon shark. He'd found the poor thing missing half its limbs, and gone on a horribly roundabout mission to make it new ones. So far things had been going smoothly and the shark had taken to leisurely taking swims around Vox's small aquarium, one that spanned one entire wall of his even tinier apartment.

What he hadn't expected was for Alastor to show up one day completely uninvited and make him dinner.

He'd been in the midst of arranging meetings with other up and coming sinners of Pentagram City, looking through his contacts to see who else would have the most potential to become an Overlord. One had been Valentino, who was the man he was trying to speak with when a crash came from his kitchen. He'd asked Valentino if he could bear to be put on indefinite hold incase he was killed, deafened before he could hear a response, then proceeded to the kitchen, hammer in hand, only to find-

"Ah, there you are, my dear picture box! I was afraid I'd never see you again, what with that awful habit of yours with locking yourself into the workshop for hours." Alastor stood in his kitchen, humming quietly as he stirred a pot full of gumbo leisurely. "Go sit down and wait, would you?"

"I- you-" Vox looked in between Alastor, who was wearing an apron that said Kill the Cook atop his regular fitted suit, painting an elegant yet absolutely ridiculous portrait and back to the table, where several other creole dishes sat on the table in front of Vox. "You're in my house."

"You didn't answer me when I tapped on the radio waves," Alastor shrugged lesiurely. "You've gotten busy these past weeks, haven't you?"

"Well... sort of," Vox said, expertly skirting around the question. "Anyway, that doesn't explain much. You don't like coming to my apartment. And you only cook for Rosie and Mimzy because you only respect them."

"I don't like coming here, correct."

"So.... why are you here, exactly?" Vox crosses his arms, leaning on the counter. "You don't usually come for visits."

"I care about you," Alastor said softly. It almost sounded sincere. No wonder he was a radio host- truly, hearing those words had nearly stopped Vox's resolve to leave entirely. "Isn't that enough?"

"I wish," Vox said in reply, a hand pressed to his chest to stop his rapid breathing. "God, I wish."

But God didn't exist for Sinners.

So when Alastor finishes cooking the food and sits down to eat with him, asking him about the work and projects he's been doing, Vox just grits his teeth in a smile and forces himself to act as if his world isn't breaking apart piece by piece.

[gas-station-chai]

Has anyone sexualized the Bathroom Cowboy yet

[ella-ashmore]

they definitely make out in the break room