#meaty lance

[tiny-pteranodon]

Bro help me spread Mitra-Varuna propaganda

Alrite hmm

Lemme pull out my scriptures

How about that verse in the rigved that says that these two together came in a pitcher after seeing urvasi and that gave birth vasishtha

Or the one in the shatapatha brahmana where they clearly fuck and the book goes in detail explaining how the curd solids and whey are representative of the male and female "seeds"

and literally every other verse where there seen together and counted as one, totally inseparable.

[ofdarklands]

the final lightwarden

discovering an ancient half dead flask of white gouache turned this supposedly simple sketch into something i spent like 3 weeks very slowly adding to. have it before i continue forever and ever and ev-

[orgasming-caterpillar]

Isn't it baffling that after almost two decades of life I still only have two men who I can genuinely trust that have no male ego and aren't just grown up man children

[avonne-writes]

Put that guy in a situation... Buck/Bucky Body swap mayhaps?

There's a sweet familiarity to the throbbing ache of a hangover, Bucky thinks as he turns to lie on his back in his cot. He can just sink into the misery of it, then chase it with the hair of the dog, let the poison make it better. That’s what he needs. Something to make getting up only three or four hours after he went to sleep worth it. And Gale. Yeah, Gale would already be there in the mess hall, waiting for him with one of his muted smiles.

Now, that's something that would get Bucky out of bed even if he was dying.

He rolls himself up to sit on the edge of the bed but a sharp, piercing pain slices through his thigh.

"Ugh, Jesus Christ." He hisses through gritted teeth, his hand tearing the thin army-issued blanket away to see what hurt him. "Fuck! What the fuck!"

There's a splotch of red spreading on his boxers. Cursing under his breath, he rucks up the material and finds a sizeable gash with the skin held together by stitches. His careless movements pulled at the edge of it wrong and made it bleed a little.

He can’t remember getting wounded there.

"What..." He blinks, confusion and panic settling in.

Those are not his legs. His muscular thighs have been replaced by ones much slimmer, the thick, dark coils seem to have vanished to give way to sparse blond hair, and where he's usually white as a sheet his skin now sports a pinkish hue. Small moles dot the limbs where there should be none.

Bucky's breathing so fast that he feels lightheaded. He racks his brain for an explanation, but the only plausible one is that the special brew he won off the goddamn Brits last night was spiked with something freaky. Of course, those pricks would pull something like this. He runs a hand through his hair to try calm himself down, but instead of the familiar pattern of his curls, he combs through straighter, silkier strands. He jerks his hand away to look at it and that's when he realizes -

These are Gale's hands. His hair, his skin, his slim legs. Even his voice, the low rumble of it, isn’t because Bucky sang himself hoarse last night. It’s Gale’s voice.

"Jesus Christ." Bucky repeats, whispering from the shock. He looks up and Marge's framed photo stares back at him from Gale’s bedside. And just across from him - "Shit!"

It's surreal to see his own body from the outside. For a moment, he fears that he’s dead, but his body stirs and curls up tighter on his side, his hands tucked under his pillow.

Like Gale's usually are when he's asleep.

Swallowing against the alarm making his head throb, Bucky pushes himself up to pad over to his body - to Gale, his heart knows - despite the pain lancing through his thigh and a stiffness in his back that shouldn't be there. Even through his racing thoughts, one stands out loud and clear. Gale has been hiding his wounds from him.

That hurts more than the physical pain.

With a shaking hand, he touches Gale's - his own - shoulder. Eyes Bucky only ever sees in the mirror snap open, widen, and without any further preamble, a fist swings out and clocks him in the face. The world goes dark again.

When Bucky wakes up again, he’s in the softest, warmest bed known to man, and someone's arm lies limp across his face, right where his nose throbs with a slowly fading pain. He gasps as his mind reconnects to the present and realizes that the war has long been over and he’s lying on the mattress he shares with Gale.

Relieved, he grabs for his own thigh and finds it unmarred under the duvet. It’s just as meaty as it should be, the hair on it familiar as he draws his palm over it. On his upper lip, his mustache covers the skin. He sighs as his heartbeat slows. Only his face hurts, and that's apparently because Gale swung his arm out in his sleep.

Carefully, he folds that arm back over Gale’s torso, then reaches under the covers. Gale moves with him, turning to his side in a way that suggests he thinks Bucky wants to spoon, but he grunts when Bucky’s hand smooths over his thigh to trace the old scar there.

"I had a weird dream." Bucky whispers, molding himself to the curve of Gale's body for comfort. "We were back in Thorpe and I was in your body."

Gale breathes in and out slowly. "'m not in the mood." He mumbles.

"No, I mean, I were you and you were me, Buck. We switched bodies. It was damn scary, let me tell ya. Then you punched me." When he gets no response, Bucky continues. "Imagine seeing yourself from the outside. Can't lie, it left me terrified."

Gale's hum rumbles in his chest where he presses Bucky's hand to his heart. "Sleep, hon."

Taking a deep breath, Bucky closes his eyes and tries to obey. He doubts that Gale will remember any of this conversation in the morning. He’ll tell him again during breakfast. It will earn him a smile, he’s sure.

[maybeyoullfindthissomeday]

Alaskan Snow

I lathe your body in lubricant so flavorful, then leach slowly onto the lamina of your meaty leg, sucking harder as I meander up your thigh. A lancing glance from judging eyes, as my hands, they tremble for what is to be done, but I won’t atone for the use of my tongue. My teeth tarry as I taste you, gripping onto limbs, and breaking your shell, penetrating, while I reach farther inside. I rip your body apart, and tear more meat from cartilage, savoring your delicate flavor as your juices trickle down my chin. I finish, wipe my mouth, and discard what is left of you into the bucket provided for your carapace.

[nihilnovisubsole]

i wasn't going to keep cluttering people's dashes up with my ffxiv stream-of-consciousness posts. but after a chance run-in with @arcanistvysoren in the dusk vigil one night, i was encouraged to make more. so, hey! heavensward! that was a lot!

one thing you can always count on final fantasy to do is give you leitmotifs. sad scene? leitmotif. climactic battle? leitmotif. quest accepted? leitmotif. hey, dragonsong is nice. why not?

it's difficult to overstate how habitually this game throws beautiful atmosphere at you and makes it look effortless. i know i keep repeating myself, but it keeps being true. the quiet desolation of riding through the coerthas western highlands at night with a blizzard battering you and fog obscuring the horizon. ough

i was looking forward to royce's role as a self-exiled ishgardian in this part of the story, and i was very much not let down. heavensward spends a lot of time emphasizing what an irreplaceable asset the warrior of light becomes to ishgard, so the bitter taste that she would have experienced during the early coerthas ARR quests rises to a nauseating pitch. oh, now the ishgardian authorities care. now they want her around. now they want to heap praise on her for pulling them out of the fire. when they did nothing to help save her squad five years ago and went damnatio memoriae on her when she vanished. they're lucky she's too heroic to let them burn.

i'm not exactly sure how she works through her feelings by the end. i'll have to think about it. write about it, maybe. we'll see.

the dragon plot is fine. it works! it's cool! it's all very mythic in scale and appropriately tragic. i'm just more drawn to the expansion's mundane side. it's easy for final fantasy to get carried away with itself when it's got aether and primals and multiverses flying around, so we need the periods where we deal with interpersonal conflict to keep it grounded and speak to lived human experience.

i mean, the windows into how ignorant ishgardian citizens are and how deep their religious indoctrination actually goes? that's meaty. a church covering up everything from their archbishop's love child to the history their core theology was founded on? that's the good stuff

god, it's hilarious how much estinien and aymeric were engineered in a lab for fans to fall in love with them. they're elves, they're tall, they have deep voices and piercing eyes and swooshy hair, they're brooding, they're burdened with great and terrible responsibility. estinien is beat-for-beat the "character 1" archetype of otome games: mysterious and mean, but defrosts over his story arc. you have dinner at aymeric's house! the dev team had to know that these fellows were going to have a following and leaned into it.

actually, wait, does aymeric fall into the "responsible authority figure" otome archetype? is haurchefant the "flirty, excitable younger guy" archetype? am i onto something here? pepesilvia.jpg

poor haurchefant ):

speaking of characters, cid is growing on me. i didn't pay much attention to him in ARR, but i like that he continues to play a major role. he's a fun guy to have around. royce draws heavily from cyan garamonde, who's a notorious technophobe, and i wonder whether she inherited some of that character DNA too. you are a good man and i trust you but do not dare augment my lance. more power means more parts to break. cold steel will never fail you

the vault and baelsar's wall are awesome as dungeons, but lol, lmao. there is something to be said for bark trigger volume. filthy rats! [crackling fireball noise] sickness must be purged! [explosion] filthy rats! [griffin sword swing] sloppyyy!! [another explosion] sickness must be purged!

i have finally found a part of the game i dislike: leap of faith. UGHHH. why am i good at every GATE except that one. UGHHH

oh i have THOUGHTS about that duel with raubahn

emmanellain's job is just beach

[absolutebl]

10 BL Pairs That Should be Reunited in New Rolls!

1. Son Woo Hyun & Kim Kang Min

I am taking them away from Hwang Da Seul and handing them over to WATCHA (Light On Me, Semantic Error).

Try.

Again.

Korea.

2. Golden Blood’s Sugus & Tenon (PitchBank). 

They never co-branded, tho, so it seems highly unlikely but I absolutely loved their chemistry. 

3. Pluem & Chimon 

I just like their screen presence together and I think their energy suits GMMTV’s style so if they deigned to give them a meaty script like they do with SantaEarth, these 2 could handle it. It seems GMMTV is done with this pair though, and Pluem wasn’t in the 2023 line up at all. 

4. Park Seo Ham & Park Jae Chan

But I explicitly do NOT want a second season of Semantic Error. BL has a bad track record with second seasons.

I want them to play opposite personality types. Just to see if they can recreate the magic. We fantasy casting? I want it to be teacher/student trope, with Jae Chan as a sunshine sweetheart bubbly pursuer of the relationship and Seo Ham as some hurt broken angry closed off gentle giant professor type with a heart of gold.

5. Komiya Rio & Inoue Sora 

Eternal Yesterday was sad from the very first moment, we all knew what we were in for. But these two had killer chemsitry on screen together so I’d love to see them in a HEA BL. Now Japan never does couple branding (anymore - they will do second seasons tho), so this will not happen, but still, I loved them together. 

6. Chris & Jake 

Look, we all know they’d be game, and I’ve given up on a 2nd season of H3: Trapped, so I’ll just take them in another series together. Speaking of... 

7. Lance Chiu & Kawai Akihiro

I adored See You After Quarantine? and I LOVE an international pairing, so I really want these two to anchor  proper full length BL for either Taiwan or Japan, I’m not fussy. For the tiniest bit of shared screen time they had amazing chemistry. So there is a large part of me that wants to hand them over to Japan and see what they could do with an actually solid existing pair and a killer script. 

8. YinWar 

I was super disappointed in Love Mechanics but I love these two on screen together so I really want to see more of them. 

9. PerthLay

I have given up hope on the second season of My Engineer, so I just want them to do something, anything, together so long as they are the leads and it’s a full Thai season. 

10. SamYu 

What? Of course they make my list. This is me after all. 

More on this subject:

Crazy BL Actor Pairing I'd Love to See

BL’s Top 10 Most Deserving Unresolved

Top 10 Kpop Idol BL Fantasy Cast List

MY ULTIMATE FANTASY CAST AND BL MASTERPIECE

(source) 

[wrestler-smash-or-pass]

Weekly Wrapup 3/17/24 (late)

This Week's Rankings:

Jade Cargill - 81.4% smash

Chihiro Hashimoto - 73.6%

James Drake - 69.8%

Cody Rhodes (Dashing Era) - 69.3%

Brody King - 67.5%

Donovan Danhausen (no makeup) - 66.9%

Team XTreme (Matt and Jeff Hardy, Lita) - 63.9%

CM Punk (Straight Edge Society Era) - 62.7%

Yoshihatsu - 56.7%

Seiya Sanada (blond beard) - 52.4%

The Butcher and the Blade - 49.5%

Lance Archer - 48.1%

Dynamite Kid - 28.1%

Cowboy Bob Orton - 24.6%

Average smash rating this week: 58.2%

More stats under the cut, along with my observations, commentary, and some of my favorite tags...

Most total votes this week (most enthusiasm)

Brody King - 446 votes

CM Punk (Straight Edge Society) - 386

Cody Rhodes (Dashing) - 342

Donovan Danhausen (no makeup) - 325

Jade Cargill - 296

And least total votes this week (least enthusiasm)

Dynamite Kid - 135 votes

Yoshihatsu - 163

Seiya Sanada (blond beard) - 164

James Drake - 169

Cowboy Bob Orton - 183

The closest poll was the Butcher and the Blade, who lost 106-108

Top Tag Teams/Trios

The Golden Lovers - 80.4% smash

Unholy Union - 74.3% smash

Best Friends - 66.7% smash

Motor City Machine Guns - 65.5% smash

Team XTreme - 63.9% smash

There were no changes to the overall standings for singles wrestlers this week, and with 250 poll results, I think it's pretty unlikely we'll get a lot of movement in the future. I'm removing them from the wrap-up posts to save you guys some scrolling unless there is a change to the rankings.

The rankings for the three CM Punk polls thus far are:

Regular CM Punk - 67.9% smash (and 527 total votes!)

Straight Edge Society CM Punk - 62.7%

Ring of Honor CM Punk - 59.7%

You folks narrowly prefer Danhausen in facepaint (68.8% smash) to nakedface Donovan Danhausen (66.9%) And you strongly prefer SANADA without the blond hair and beard (69.7% smash vs 52.4% smash).

Apologies for being so late this week. No real excuse, just tired. The next wrap-up will also be late because I'm going out of town. If I'm not exhausted from traveling, I'll post on Monday. I have polls queued until then so the smashing and passing will continue.

And now for some of my favorite tags and comment

@cheveuxroux on Lance Archer: #saw him up close and can confirm he's very handsome in person#he has great skin which is a really weird thing to say about a wrestler

@heelhausen on Straight Edge Society CM Punk: #he has a messiah complex and brother I will be the devil tempting him after forty days and nights in the desert

@regalityandcoffee on Straight Edge Society CM Punk: #smash but im sitting on his face so he cant lecture me

@lghockey on Brody King: #this big meaty man can slap my meat lmfao

writing5novelsatonce on Blond Beard SANADA: #the only thing I want to do to this iteration of Sanada is put a deep moisturizing mask into that fried hair and that crispy beard

[msn-04iinightingale]

The Hanged Man: Watchdogs

Barghest Company's Camp was a hive of activity, the three dropships being loaded with mechs and ammunition in preparation for reinforcing FOB Kinship.

Owen patted Katie's controls as he exited the cockpit of his mech, now parked in its berth aboard the Dando.

"Won't be long now, girl." He says with a grin.

By the time he gets down to the deck, Bell is waiting for him.

"Hey Bell...uh oh, I know that look." He says, grin falling slightly. "What's up?"

"Sir, we...there are a couple of new pilots here."

Owen raised an eyebrow at that. That shouldn't be right.

"...also, you received an eyes only communication from the Commanding General." Bell ads, holding out a datapad for his inspection.

Ok Melissa, what's going on...

He takes the pad, pressing a thumbprint to the reader for ID, and opens the message, scrolling past all the "to" and "from" and all that.

/BEGIN MESSAGE

Commander,

In light of recent events, I am assigning two SLDF mechwarriors to your command to shore up your numbers.

Please play nice with them.

Commanding General Melissa Hazen, SLDF

/END MESSAGE

"Hm..." he grunts.

Seems trust is in short supply around here...

"Thank you Bell, you may return to overseeing the loading of the dropships."

"Yes sir...may I ask...is everything alright?"

He turns to look at her, his most loyal soldier, his most trusted confidant.

"...yeah...they're just keeping an eye on me." he says, casually.

"...because of before?" she asks.

"...yes, because of before." he replies. "Don't worry your pretty feathered head about it, it's all just protocol." He smiles, a very charming smile, causing Bell to blush slightly.

"I....of course, sir..." she replies. "...just...be careful."

"When am I not?" he semi-laughs. "Wait, don't actually answer that."

Bell closes her mouth and gives him a look.

"Ok, ok, I'll be careful." he says, raising his hands in defeat.

"Thank you, sir." she says, mild relief on her face.

"No problem, beautiful. Now, I've got to go meet the new faces, you got everything under control here, yeah?" he asks.

"Sir, yes sir!" Bell says, snapping to attention.

"Atta girl, off you go."

Bell power walks off to go resume overseeing the loading of the dropships. Once she's gone, Owen's face falls back to neutrality.

Let's get this over with.

They were easy enough to spot, his new watchdogs. That's what they were, after all. Yes, they did shore up his numbers...but it's awfully convenient that they show up right now, after he had been investigated for a war crime.

The man and the woman were both dressed in SLDF uniforms, standing in front of a Warwolf and a Skinwalker, respectively, painted in SLDF winter camo.

Beyond their uniforms, the two were as different as it gets. The man was big, not elemental big, but big non the less, with tan skin and redish hair. He had a near perpetual grin on his face as he talked with his companion, who by contrast, wore a blank, cold expression that matched her snow white hair and pale skin. She carefully adjusted a pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose. She was the first to notice Owen approach, and snapped to a professional salute, her companion following a bit more casually.

"...At ease." Owen says, neurally. "I take it you're my new replacements?"

"Yes sir, I'm Captain Nero Bastian." the big man says with a smile, extending a meaty hand to shake. Owen does after a moment.

"I'm Captain Weiss Veil." The woman says, pointedly not offering her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you both." Owen replies, sizing both up. "I take it you two are at least passable pilots?"

"Sure are, wouldn't be Captain's if we weren't." Nero says.

Weiss simply nods.

"Uh-huh...well, welcome aboard. We'll need to add you to the IFF lists for our Lances. Go see Colonel Bell about that. She's the one with the blue stripe..." Owen indicates the woman with a thumb over his shoulder.

Nero whistles a bit. Weiss shakes her head.

Owen raises an eyebrow. Well, if he does try anything, then that's kinda his own damn fault.

Sorry Melissa, not my fault he decided to get handsy with the seven foot tall psychotic dinosaur lady with a knife obsession. We did collect all the pieces however...

"One thing...lets be frank. I know why you're both here. My people? Not part of your investigation, you leave them out of this, we clear?"

Nero and Weiss exchange a look, befroe looking back at Owen.

"...perfectly, sir." says Nero, slight less wide smile on his face.

"Good...and for fuck's sake ask before trying to cop a feel of anyone. Last thing I need is to explain how you got snapped in half like a dry twig cause you decided to play grabass with someone two and a half feet taller than you."

"Hey, wait a sec..." Nero begins, before being silenced by Weiss.

"Of course sir, I will...do my best to make sure he behaves." she adds.

"...good...now come on, we need to get your mechs loaded and ready." Owen says, waiting until they two have remounted their mechs before turning around and headed back to his people.

Watchdogs for war hounds...what a fucking operation this is turning out to be...

[plumptactician]

those consequences sound amazing, would the sacred pega-taur pound me if I played with her meaty lance?

She might..

[godisasimp]

Absolutely totally NOT stolen idea from @phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing this is completely an original post.

[silverxxs-world]

All Star 8 man scramble

Im actually proud the hook is on a ppv

AND WE GOT TAZ THATS BETTER THEN HOOK

Ok Jake was in a oxygen machine earlier to to I’m a little worried

Adam Cole I wanted the chugs 🙄

Ok also side note you guys can’t hate Jericho still when nothing happened form the evidence that was shown it was flirting that wasn’t taken well

Brian just tossed hook

Meat meat meat meat meat meat

They are all posting

Lance it the tallest

MEAT

Big meaty men slapping meat

Lance walking the top at 6’8

LETS GO WARDLOW

POKIE

Mini meat - taz

Pokie hurt his shoulder

No hook do not

What is he doing oh god

Magnus said fuck you high flyers

619 from Magnus!!

Awww he got sting on his mask

I love lances box braids

Oh Dante baby

I love the lawsuit hasn’t gone through

Pokie no

Wardlow is killing everyone

Pokie stop your going to get hurt

Oh god he’s fading

Liontamer

Pokie!!?!??? He’s kicking ass

Cover your tits hobbs

Pokie oh god

This is an amazing match

Oh Pokies dead

And a win for wardlow

His eye is swelling up

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators Ch 5: First Blood

Rated M for swearing and violence. Y'all meet a murder hobbit. You handle it poorly.

Link on AO3.

None of this is your fault. Literally no one can fault you (maybe some of them can fault you). You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. Not a physical one, anyway. Of course you have a reaction.

Mumu is up ahead. He spots the building and leads your gaggle to it. Where you’d stopped dead at the sight of the…that’s a hobbit. He wears boots, so you can see if he’s got foot hair, but those little stompers look very large proportionally. He’s even got the Elijah Wood eyes. And some knives!

A fucking hobbit. You’re not in Narnia, you’re in goddamn Middle Earth and Mumu must be Gandalf what the fuck.

But voices turn sharp, and then loud. And then a woman on a crumbling staircase—these are ruins, not a building, buildings need a roof—raises a bow. Mumu tries to deescalate, you can tell. Goth Girl has her hand on her mace, though, and you can’t see what Fancy Pants is doing behind you, but you don’t imagine it’s standing there quietly.

You don’t know who fires first. Everything just goes to shit in the span of a second. There’s screaming and running and a clang. Mumu’s voice goes all ~mystical echo~ and you’re too busy diving for cover.

Fancy Pants darts past you to charge up the stairs, a knife in his hand. Someone—the woman with the bow, you realize—screams and then a heavy, meaty thud as her body comes crashing down. Meanwhile, Goth Girl clubs the brains out of a guy, twirls, and brings her mace down on the arm of another. Even across the skirmish, you catch the nasty crack of bone snapping.

You don’t know how to fight. You don’t even have any weapons. You can barely muster up a short jog now and then when you catch the sound of the city bus turning onto your road a minute too early in the morning.

You scramble over to the statue of some lady and duck behind it as Mumu unleashes a fucking firebolt at someone. That is not tech. That is magic.

In that instant, Hobbit spots you. He’s been pecking around Mumu. But when Mumu goes after a lady who shouts and shoots a bolt of fire back, it leaves Hobbit unchecked. So he decides to come after you.

You don’t make a decision. There’s no cerebral processing of any kind. You’re crouched there, and then you’re sprinting. Around the statue, across an open space, out into the trees. Running flat out feels strange. You’re wildly out of practice; your body barely remembers this. Impact lances up your shins, jolts through your skull. You’re already gasping. The air claws the inside of your throat.

You don’t even know where you’re running. Only that you can’t stop, you have to stop, if you stop you die, you can’t keep this up.

Something hits the back of your knee. The leg buckles. You eat dirt.

Everything sort of slows. Maybe that’s just you. The ground is hard beneath you. There’s a rock digging into your knee. When you raise yourself up, you find your hands scraped with small rocks embedded in the skin. Your chin hurts and there’s something wrong with your lip. Something stuck in it. At first, you think it’s another rock. Until you try to wipe it and you feel the edge and it’s your bottom teeth. You’ve bitten through your own lip.

And no antiseptic, you think. Do the hospitals here even take medical insurance?

Your knees are fucked through the pants you just got. And there’s a goddamn knife buried in the back of your knee.

Noise behind you and the small man slams into you. He grabs for your hair. A hand rakes over the side of your face and catches on your right ear. You think you scream. You thrash and flail, but the little fucker is a fighter where you aren’t. He grapples you around, manages to pin you halfway onto your side. And that’s when the sun glints on his hand. On the other knife he holds.

He’s going to kill you. For no reason you can decipher. Plucked from your bed in the middle of the night by aliens, and crashed into Middle Narnia, and a hobbit is going to stab you in the eye.

It’s not fair. You’re survived everything before, dragged yourself out, broke down all the conditioning and made a whole fucking person from what they left and this motherfucker is going to just take that from you like it’s nothing.

You couldn’t stop the aliens. You couldn’t stop anyone before. It was always run, hide, heal. Run, hide, heal. Be the better person, take the higher road. There’s nothing you can do. You have to move on. But you can’t run now, and you can’t hide, and he’s going to kill you.

“no” some part of you says. It’s cold. It’s certain. And the entire world goes icicle sharp around you.

This isn’t earth. This place will eat you and crunch your bones without even the courtesy of a gaslight. There’s no one here to blame you for the gnashing, hissing, raging thing at the heart of you. Not fit for society. Not fit for healing and forgiveness and easing everyone else’s feelings. Being the Good One, always understanding because you can’t get mad. You can’t be violent. You can’t be the Bad Example. You have to take the fucking high road knowing full well it never benefits you. It wasn’t designed to and you’re so, so tired.

Here, in this fraction of a moment, you don’t have to keep that part of yourself chained tight and buried deep in the dark.

All of this flashes through your mind in less than a millisecond. Less an active thought, than a surfacing instinct. One your body latches onto, wraps itself tight around, and squeezes.

 You can see in that second of instinct a possibility, a clean and clear line between now and surviving, and you reach for it with no thought. No morals. There’s no judgment in your mind, only the ancient lizard brain your rodent, mammalian ancestors eventually evolved from. The one that remembers basking on the riverbank, waiting for the prey to come. What it sees is a threat. And what it knows:

End the threat.

So you do.

You pull the knife out of your own leg. Swing. A miss, and Hobbit reels back defensively. You give him no time and surge up after him. Use your greater weight to bare down on him.

The next strike does not miss. Neither does the one after that. Again. Climb on top of him and again. End the threat. You’re not going to die here. Not if you end him first.

The handle is slick. The weapon flies out of your hand.

You don’t notice.

Strike. Strike. End the threat. End him. Make him disappear.

Then a scent flutters into your consciousness. Some kind of spicy herb scent. A shock of white.

You look up. Fancy Pants stands right there. You’re on your knees over a very, very dead hobbit, gore up to your wrists, warm on your face, with your curled fist hovering midair.

“Uh,” you say. You’re not sure what you meant to follow that with. You look to the (dead) man—hobbit. His face is beat to hell. Blood slicks his front, covers his face, pools in the dirt. You did that. The memory is hazy, but you did that.

This is illegal. It’s immoral. It’s everything your mother and the others always said, the devil in you resurfacing, the outward manifestation of your sin splayed out for Fancy Pants and all the others to see and know and judge.

But when you look up. When you looks at Fancy Pants.

The man seems absolutely delighted. Eyes sparkling in what you can only describe as glee. A rather amused smile stretching his lips. And when he talks, his smooth voice is all lilts and good humor. Then he seems to remember the whole language barrier, huffs, and settles for light applause.

“Um,” you say.

He walks past you—still sitting on dead Hobbit, good god you’re too fucking exhausted to move—to pluck up the knife from several feet behind you. You have no idea how it got there. You stare at your hands like they’ll confess, but they don’t, because they’re hands. Your right palm has split open somehow. Fancy Pants wipes the blood—oh fuck—off the knife with a part of the hobbit’s tunic, and starts to hold the handle out to you: the one who just went berserker on some random guy.

And then a voice pipes up. Goth Girl, distant enough, but still way too close to your literal crime scene.

Terror washes through you. Your skin prickles from scalp to toes. She’ll come here. She’ll see. It was self-defense. If you didn’t kill him, he was going to kill you. You still stabbed him multiple times, and then beat his corpse with your bare fists afterwards for you’re not sure how long. That’s not a normal reaction. Sitting here now isn’t a normal reaction. You’re supposed to be crying or throwing up somewhere, right?

Fancy Pants cocks his head. A small movement, his eyes narrow and…weirdly evaluating. He looks from the shout, to you. You gulp.

He nods once. Straightens. Reaches out, and you think he’s going to give you a hand up, but then he shoves you hard, sends you toppling over. Before you can recover he hoists Hobbit up by the back of the shirt, grabs his head—

And slits his fucking throat. Just opens it. And Hobbit is dead, but there’s still enough blood for it to spray out all over you.

“What the f—” you start to say. Before Fancy Pants drops the dead body onto you.

You scream just as Goth Girl and Mumu appear through the brush.

They shout. At Fancy Pants or at you, you’re not sure. It’s Goth Girl who reaches you first. She pulls the dead guy off, checks you over, and you’ve never seen someone express, “I’m so disappointed in you” with only their face that well before. It’s probably the blood that isn’t yours. Or it’s the blood that is, along with the scraped to shit hands and knees and your poor mouth—your teeth are still stuck in your lip.

She says something all ~mystical~ and great, there’s two wizards. Only it’s not her eyes that glow, it’s her entire body, hazing around the edges in blue that focuses into her hands as she touches you.

“In the name of jesus” your bastard brain says quietly.

Warm tingles blast through you. It’s a nice kind of blast; less “drunken fireworks oops” and more “gentle wave at a pretty beach.”

When you sit up, your chin doesn’t hurt anymore. Your hands are smooth and pink. Even the knife wound in your knee is gone.

You look up at her and wonder if she’d marry another woman.

She regards Hobbit’s body, and her nose wrinkles. But none of that seems directed at you. She helps you up (again). Turns to say something to where Mumu appears to be lecturing Fancy Pants. Mumu gestures to the dead guy, over to you, and while Fancy Pants isn’t actually buffing his nails, he’s doing so in spirit.

They notice you stand; Fancy Pants gives you a once over and makes some point to Mumu. Who sighs, examines you, and has a short conversation with Goth Girl. You amble past them. There’s a bench tucked underneath some trees, and your legs are pudding. You’re done for the day. Or for the next two hours, at least. That bastard looks napable.

But as you pass Fancy Pants, he clears his throat. He’s watching the discussion behind you, but turns just enough for you to catch the wink and the smirk.

Fatigue is rapidly dragging your few remaining brain cells down into the abyss. But there’s enough in that expression to give you pause. You can’t name what it is. Something dangerous. But also something…

Fuck. You can’t do this right now. It’s all Problem Three. All of it. Fuck all of this, you’re taking a damn nap and your body hits the power switch before you remember actually sitting down.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

debated whether to post this as it is, without contest, THE most deranged thing i have ever done in any fandom.  but this is the deranged fan website so without further ado:

The 2023 F1 Drivers, Ranked By Hands

ID and explanations are under the cut.  explanations are grouped by team instead of in the order of the chart above, because that’s how i typed this out in my google doc and i can’t be arsed to cut them up and shuffle them around.  enjoy.

[ID: a tier ranking list with the categories “✨perfect✨”; “very nice!”; “pretty good”; “Fine I Guess”; and “ugly.”  reading left to right, the photos shown in the “✨perfect✨” tier are george russell, valtteri bottas, and zhou guanyu.  the photos shown in the “very nice!” tier are oscar piastri, kevin magnussen, nico hülkenberg, max verstappen, alex albon, and esteban ocon.  in the “pretty good” tier we have yuki tsunoda, charles leclerc, logan sargeant, fernando alonso, lewis hamilton, and carlos sainz.  in the “Fine I Guess tier” are nyck de vries, lance stroll, and checo pérez.  in the “ugly” tier are pierre gasly and lando norris.  /end ID]

The Explanations

yuki: some nice hands!  smol and well-proportioned.  smooth, pretty skin that looks decently well cared for.  the overall shape gives the impression of a balance between gentle and sturdy.

nyck: similar to yuki’s in size, with the sturdiness & ruggedness sliders bumped up just a couple notches.  big, blunt, round fingerpads.  nothing too special but not unattractive either!

hulkenberg: lovely long fingers!  slight points detracted for the bulge of his pinky muscle which gives his palm an oddly lumpy shape that i personally find aesthetically unattractive.  still, quite pretty overall: a hand that’s clearly built for strength first but also looks like it could have a gentleness to it.

kevin: now just by pure aesthetics this one shouldn’t work, with the combination of the big sprawled-out square palm and the short, small, tapered fingers coming out of it.  but something about the quirkiness of the combo utterly charms me!

oscar: god, i so wanted to place him higher, because these are literally some gorgeous fucking hands.  perfect fingers: long with an elegant taper and a beautiful soft rounded tip.  unfortunately, this boy chews the SHIT out of his cuticles.  they’re not visible in the picture i included here (bc i went for one that showed the overall shape better) but i have other photographic proof where they literally look so fucking ragged and dry and NASTYYYY.

lando: listen i love my dumb little puppyboy but literally what the fuck is this.  the knobbly knuckles, the tendon bumps, the weird asymmetrical squat shape to the palm—absolutely none of it is to my taste.  AND, as if that weren’t enough, he also has the same ripped-up cuticles problem as oscar.  someone please sneak into the mclaren HQ and start sneaking gabapentin into these poor boys’ food like they give to animals to stop gnawing at their stitches after the vet.

logan: what can i say?  they’re good hands, brent.  long fingers, nicely shaped and proportional to the palm, no obvious detractions.  just a nice hand.

alex: minor points detracted for disproportionality—his palm is, like, way too long for his fingers somehow??  but he makes it up in other areas: the skin looks smooth and moisturized, and the fingers themselves are quite nice, long with a blunt pillowy pad.  bonus visual interest points for having a third and fourth finger that are nearly the same length!  willing to bet anything that those two are the fingers he uses for [*LOUD RAPID GUNFIRE*]

guanyu: long and lovely fingers, slim and delicate!  a slight knobbliness to the knuckles but the overall length and gracility of the fingers makes it look elegant.  back of the hand looks well moisturized and smooth.

valtteri: yes they’re so smol and stubby and MEATY but they’re also just very nicely proportioned and shaped!  this is a hand i would be delighted to hold and squeeze: just these cute, soft, almost pudgy little mitts.

esteban: would have loved to go even higher for the long slim fingers, and they do have a gorgeous gentle look to them—unfortunately they are just slightly on the wrong side of too-long, where they start looking almost spidery.  still, despite the slight unsettling aspect i’m nevertheless compelled to rate these pretty highly.  or maybe because of it.

pierre: there’s just really nothing compelling going on here.  kind of a knobbly/lumpy shape; not stubby enough to be smol and cute; not long enough to be elegant and pretty.  ig they look strong-ish but even that’s a reach.

lance: these hands i would call stubby in a cute way: not quite as much as valtteri’s, but still, i like the proportions on these.  points off for the skin looking a bit dry.  you’re literally a billionaire, my guy.  go get a manicure sometime with the paraffin gloves or whatever.

fernando: very well-shaped; smol and cute, a little less knobbly than lance’s.  definitely showing signs of age but i don’t mind that!

checo: yet another basic/“standard” hand.  a decent columnar shape to the fingers.  overall nothing too special for better or for worse.

max: soft-looking, with a lovely broad blunt pad at the tip.  little bit of a knuckle knobble but nothing too bad, and again, the length helps them look nice.

george: yeah so this is basically my perfect hand.  fine, elegant, long-boned fingers, matched by a perfect slim palm that’s exactly in proportion.  has a wee little bit of a nail in this photo, which is interesting; everybody else has had them rounded-off down to the quick, either from trimming/filing, gnawing, simple wear, or some combination of all three.  nothing wrong with that, though: the edge on george’s nail looks smooth (i.e. un-gnawed) and well-shaped.

lewis: these are similar to yuki’s—small and sturdy-looking in a cute way.  slightly lower than yuki since lewis has a slightly bulging/unsightly left pinky; wonder if he broke it at some point or something.

carlos: this is another story of two parts where the fingers are great but the palm shape detracts somewhat.  a very narrow tapered point on these long fingers, but the palm is far too broad to match, thus giving the whole hand a heavy and disproportionate look.

charles: you have no idea how hard it was to actually look at his hands and not get distracted by his face BUT.  sad to say, his palm is another kind of unshapely sprawl; too broad and the silhouette it makes i just don’t find aesthetically pleasing.  the fingers are beautiful, though, columnar in shape with possibly the softest and most pillowy-looking finger pads on the grid, and you can for sure tell he’s a pianist bc he keeps those things AGGRESSIVELY trimmed.

[kxllerblond]

Anon ASKED: 💕💕 / positivity meme (accepting)

The RNG has decided your fates...

@demcnsinmymind -— What a meaty character tbh. I know nOTHING about the canon but you can bet I ate up every cruuuumb of info on their pages and the universe and Lance are simply tasty and I think that's the biggest win when it comes to small fandom canons is roping clueless outsiders like me in and getting them invested. Mun is super nice, character is a joy to bounce off of so far and I'm super hyped to see where our threads end up going.

@jigscw -— I know probably the bare bones of the character so this is also a case of "holy shit this random tumblr dot com user has made me care about this character". I hear about Billy, I see gifsets of Billy or Ben B. in general...their url is always first to flash in my head. Gorgeous characterization, gorgeous writing. Chef's kiss.

[gnawteamusings]

Lance x Paul

What follows beneath the cut is the full transcript (as I can piece it together) of Lance and Paul's thread. I'll be using this to necro the thread soon. @davidkarofskyindie

Lance heard his father call out as he finished pissing. Just the sound of the guy’s voice was enough to get him chubbing up. Seeing a handy cock ring on the vanity, he slipped it on before he left the bathroom and returned to his parents room.

“It’s okay, pop, I’m here” Lance smiled as he passed by the window, giving the older man a view of his sexy physique and his hard cock, made harder by the cock ring. Slipping between the sheets, he snuggled up behind the older man, his cock naturally slotting right between those thick cheeks. Lance pumped his hips a few times, loving the feel of his father’s skin and the silky thong that prevented him from fucking the older man’s ass. “Please let me fuck you again…I know it’s late… but tomorrow is Saturday and mom won’t be home until late Sunday….” --

Paul smiled a little when he saw Lance coming in, looking hotter than ever with a big thick cock just sticking out proud and hard as could be. He licked his lips a little just taking it all in. When he felt the bed move he poked his ass out a little just so it was firm as could be for Lance to do with as he wished “Had me worried for a minute there” he said softly as he reached back and held his boy’s hand, running his thumb slowly over the back of his partner’s hand teasingly as he could “I think we have plenty of time for a good hard fuck... though, I want it with you on top of me, looking in my eyes as you pound me senseless” he panted while he turned his head back and kissed those lips as passionately as he could while he sucked on the man’s lower lip as sensually as he could “Wanna feel you even after your mother get’s home... just own my ass Lance, own daddy’s hole” --

Lance grinned as he felt his dad pushing back against him, just as eager as he was for this. The teen nuzzled his father when he stroked his hand so sweetly. He looked forward to the day that they could leave his mom and just be together full time, even if carrying on behind her back was exciting now.

“You bet, pop,” Lance grinned as flipped the duvet back and maneuvered so he was behind the big man’s legs. Grabbing the lube, he drizzled the slick liquid from the tip of his hard and dripping 14” cock down to the sexy leather cock ring. With one hand Lance lathered it into his skin while the other hand manipulated the thong strap so that he could press his cock against his dad’s sphincter.

“Feel that, sir?” Lance asks as he grabs ahold of his dad’s thighs and presses forward. His meat digs deeper and deeper and the eighteen year old gazed down at his sexy father, looking so hot in that thong, taking his cock, “tell me how much you like that teen dick in your hole” --

Paul let out the happiest moan as he felt that monster cock pressing against him, hard and thicker than anything else he’d ever had back there. He loved it so much and he never craved anything more “Oh I feel it… I fucking love that cock in me so much” he whispered as he pushed back a little “I love feeling every hard thick inch slipping inside me, splitting me open and fucking me hard and deep” he turned his head and looked back to the younger man with a grin, leaning back to kiss those lips.

“So go on baby boy… show me what you can do” he panted as he pushed his ass back one more time so he had all of Lance inside him “Show Dad what he’s been needing” he panted beofe kissing those soft perfect lips as roughly as he could. --

Lance grinned as he felt the way that Paul’s body seemed to gobble him up. Looking down and seeing that sexy thong, seeing how his cock was plundering that meaty daddy ass, well, it just inspired Lance to double down on giving his father the fuck of his life. Rising up from his knees, getting his feet under him, Lance crouched over his father. Grabbing hold of one of his dad’s muscled shoulders, for leverage, the younger man started to saw his cock in and out of his dad.

“Yeah? Lance whispers silkily into Paul’s ear as another heated kiss breaks, “You don’t want your baby boy to make love to this ass right now, do you? Just want him to fucking own it. Fucking dick you down like all good daddy whores deserve, hmm?” Lance growled as he started to pummel his dad’s ass, loving the feel of those cheeks jiggling with the force of each thrust, “is that what you needed when you called out for me at 3 am?” --

Paul grinned as he felt Lance gripping his shoulder, tilting his head to rest against his boy’s hand. He licked his lips and prepared for it before that large cock started fucking him, every inch of his boys large powerful cock just owning his ass with every single thrust “Oh god, I wanted it then so bad… to feel you fucking slamming my hole and fucking me like no one has” he panted as he pushed back happily, enjoying every hard thrust “You can make love to me later, I needed a good fucking and only you can give it to me”

Every hard thrust made Paul’s own large powerful cock throb hard, letting out a low lustful moan while his ass gripped tight around that powerful cock that owned him again and again. He bit his bottom lip and whimpered happily while he kept bouncing his ass on that cock “Fucking own me, oh holy crap, don’t stop Lance… don’t… don’t goddamn stop!” he cried out in the neediest happiest tone. --

Lance took advantage of his dad’s absurdly strong body as he rested his weight on the man’s back even as he continues to rail his monster cock in and out of the older man. He could feel the silky thong strap slipping back and forth against his cock and it reminded him of how all this started. Thought about how clumsy he had been early on, and that only drove him on to show Paul how much he had learned.

Reaching under his dad with one hand, he started to roughly tweak the older man’s nipples. The other hand slipped into the man’s hair and tugged back, pulling the older man into a kiss even as Lance pumped his cock powerfully into him. “I want to fuck the cum out of you sir, I want you to spray the bed you share with mom with your seed. I want to know you got off to just me.” --

Paul let out a little growl when his hair was pulled back, looking into Lance’s eyes with a wicked moan coming out while he kissed his perfect boy. He pushed his large ass back, taking every inch with pure delight and need with every single motion of that cock inside him “Keep pounding me like that boy and you’ll have me spraying everywhere… just keep fucking me Lance” he growled, looking into those eyes “Go on… you know you can fuck me harder than this. Show daddy what you can do!” --

Lance was especially grateful for the cock ring that was keeping him diamond hard and making it a little easier not to fill his father’s guts with his seed. The way the man’s gravel voice sounded as he uttered such filthy, filthy things was really getting Lance going. Gripping the man’s hair tighter, he twists it so his dad is looking at the night-table. Besides an almost comically large bottle of high grade lube and their charging phones, Paul’s wedding ring glinted in the moonlight.

“Just remember, you asked for it,” Lance teased before he braced his feet against the footboard and held onto those massive shoulders. Without any further warning, Lance started to ream out his father’s thick ass with a punishing pace of rough, deep strokes. Each thrust meant another direct hit to the other’s prostate. Each exit was a stretch of over a foot of cock along those sensitive walls. “nobody is ever going to fuck you as well as your son, dad.” --

Paul let out a low lustful growl as Lance held onto his shoulders, a grin covering his face while he prepared for what was to come. When Lance started to really pound his tight needy hole, letting out a needy whimper with every hard thrust inside his needy hole. He whimpered, sucking on his bottom lip as he pushed back against Lace’s powerful cock that opened him up like nothing else. He sucked on his bottom lip as he was rammed by his boy who just owned him like nothing else “Oh god damn, you are fucking amazing baby boy… no one’ll ever fuck me like this… no one fucking could”

He growled and pushed back, his prostate slammed again and again while his toes curled in pure bliss as he was pounded by his lover ‘Oh god damn Lance… so good… you’re so good to daddy” he looked back to the man with a grin “You are absolutely fucking amazing… always… always knew you were something special” he panted, his body glistening with the sweat brought out by the powerful pounding. --

“I love you dad…” Lance growls against the older man’s ear as his hips clapped loudly aginst Paul’s thick ass cheeks. He was getting overwhelmed by sweat and sexual desire as they fucked well into the wee hours of the morning.

“Love how you love me. Love how hot you are for taking dick. For taking my dick. God, your ass is fucking incredible daddy… take my fucking cock you glorious bastard!”

Reaching down from Paul’s sexy nips, Lance strokes those fine abs before he gets to the pouch of the thong the older man was wearing for him. Flipped the pouch aside to release the massive prick that made him, and started to stroke it with his lubed up fingers. “goddamnit i love you in thongs…love you showing off this ass, daddy. can’t help but wanna fuck you all the time…oh god daddy…” --

​Paul let out a tiny little whimper as he felt Lance’s fingers slowly trailing over his abs, the sensual touch of the gorgeous man just turned him on so much. His entire body was eager to be taken and touched by the gorgeous muscular hunk, letting out a low lustful moan of pure raw pleasure. He let out the happiest moan when his cock was released and he reached back to grab Lance’s hip, wanting to enjoy every single powerful thrust from the gorgeous hunk “You should fuck me all the time Lance… every chance… every fucking chance you can, you’re so good at it”

He turned his head back and leaned in for a hard needy kiss, sucking lustfully on his boy’s bottom lip while he kept bouncing his ass on the thick dick while his own large thick length throbbed with every thrust “Oh god baby, breed my hole… I want it so fucking bad… fucking own your daddy’s hole, baby” --

Lance was a mess of lust and love at the moment. Grinning like a fool as he fucked his father into the morning he thought about how lucky he was. But the thought was brief as the pressure building up behind the cock ring was getting to the point of no return. If it hadn’t been for the band of steel, he’d have cum ages ago, but he could feel it building now. “Yes sir, oh fuck, yesss oh god, dad…”

The needy kiss was bringing him over the edge, and the way that Paul was sucking on his bottom lip was almost as much of a turn on as the way that Paul was meeting every stroke of his cock. But the way that he was begging to be bred after the kiss broke, that’s was drove him over the edge. Grasping those hips, Lance sped up, railing the man’s ass as he let out a howl of pleasure as his cock began to pump his load deep inside that muscle ass. “ohhhh shitt, dadddy…” --

Paul was in heaven, every single thrust of that large impressive cock just slamming him again and again. He let out a low lustful growl just enjoying every inch that owned his tight needy ass. He sucked on his bottom back, pushing back wantonly against the large length “Oh fuck yes Lance!” he cried out when Lance sped up and he felt his lover owning his tight hole. He whimpered as he pushed back against that length as he felt it shooting a hard load inside his ass, eyes rolling up as he took every drop and his large cock throbbed as he came hard himself.

“Fuck, baby boy… you are just… goddamn, perfect” he whispered as he pulled his lover in for a hard kiss and grinning brightly as he could, sucking sensually on his boys bottom lip “Fucking love you” he whispered sweetly, nuzzling his partner sweetly “You are just fucking perfect” --