#my tiny speed demon bringing all the boys to the yard

[zarahjoyce]

MSK Fic: sparkling benevolence

Summary: "That's weird," he scoffs, waving his phone around as if to prove his point. "It's not like Sena knows anyone around here who actually wears a stupid suit and tie, so--"

"Actually, I do," says Shiguru, never looking up from his script. "When my role calls for it."

Tametomo curls his lip at the intrusion.

-

or, Sena bought something as a gift, not knowing that it will cause Tametomo and Shiguru to somewhat Feel Things And Not Like Them At All.

Notes: look ok I know I’m weak but here’s the Shiguru/Sena/Tametomo thing that I promised ok

ao3 link to the shipping fic oops

[angstyaches]

Ok so I freaking love belly rubs and now that we’ve seen Shayne receive a belly rub I want to see it reversed 😂 Charlie has an upset stomach for some reason and realizes that he just really needs to burp but he can’t and all day long the feeling just gets worse until he’s finally home and can lay down but still nothing will come up and when Shayne shows up and he lets him through the window he immediately knows something is wrong (p 1 of 2)

(P 2 of 2) somehow Charlie convinced him to help him by rubbing his stomach which of course helps and he burps into his fist a couple of times but it’s not releasing the pressure at all, actually it’s making him feel nauseous and before he knows it he suddenly vomits all over him and Shayne ( I know this doesn’t really fit with the plot you’ve got since the ending of the last fic with Shayne but i didn’t know how to make it fit 😂 you can ignore this prompt if ya want lol)

Milo, thank you, thank you, thank you. I had so much fun writing this. Baby’s first prompt.

Sorry if this is obnoxiously long; I have no idea how to judge length yet.

CW: vomiting

In the pub

Charlie had zoned out hours ago, upon realising that the three-year age gap between him and his oldest cousins meant a lot more when he was eighteen and they were fifteen. Whatever pop culture they were chatting about held no interest for him, and whatever gossip his parents, aunts, and uncles were engaging him would likely be just as boring.

He wished he could have gone and talked to Jonathan. He hadn’t seen his half-brother in months, yet he’d barely wanted to speak two words with Charlie all day. He’d brought two friends along, which Aunt Pauline had been annoyed about at the start of the day. She had gotten over it; Charlie, however, had not. The three of them had been skulking outdoors in the smoking area for hours.

Although, if he’d been given first pick, Charlie would have been chatting to been the pretty bartender with the gold lip ring. The guy looked run off his feet, yet had a smile for every one of Charlie’s relatives who had an order to bark at him, be it a chocolate-stained little cousin or his cane-wielding grandmother. He was so cute, but Charlie was too nervous to even look him in the eye. He also felt slightly… guilty, though he could think of no rational reason why he should feel guilty. He wasn’t spoken for by anyone; not even close. And that just made him sink further into his loneliness.

So, with no conversational opportunity, Charlie had occupied himself with the bar food that came out in waves. He didn’t often eat greasy food at home, and he ate exactly like a kid let loose in a store full of chicken goujons and potato wedges. His stomach started to feel kind of sloshy at one point, but that might have been from copious amounts of fizzy orange. More food would surely soak it up and settle everything down.

After the cute waiter dropped off a tray of drinks at the “adult” table, Charlie’s dad stood up and took a glass over to where Charlie was sitting.

“There you are, designated driver,” Trevor said. His cheeks were flushed red from drinking for pretty much the whole day.

“Thanks, Dad,” Charlie said, fidgeting with the keys in his hoodie pocket. “Can we go soon? I’m getting tired.”

“Of course. Last drink and we’ll hit the road,” Trevor winked, giving Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You really are a blessing, son.”

He couldn’t tell if the flutter in his chest was because of the waiter still, or because of what his dad had just said. It might also have been indigestion, though he wouldn’t think of that until a little later.

“Maybe go and say goodbye to Jonathan before we head off, yeah?”

“Alright, Dad.” A blessing, he thought as his father went back to the proper adult table and sat next to his wife. Their half-demon offspring is a blessing to them. Part of him wanted to burst out laughing, the other half wanted to weep. He hovered somewhere in between, smiling despite the tightness in his chest.

He guzzled a few mouthfuls of the fizzy drink, stealing his courage as he stood up and went to talk to Jonathan.

In the car

The drive home itself was exhausting. Charlie’s energy was already spent after a whole day of socialising. His stomach was making some awful sounds, though it felt lazy and sluggish inside him after being fed such little amounts so many times throughout the day. The flavour of the fizzy orange kept repeating on him too, and he vowed never to touch the stuff again. He glanced over to see that his dad had fallen asleep against the passenger door. In the rear-view mirror, he saw that his mum was snoring with her head thrown back.

Charlie swallowed harshly. It felt like some of the fizzy orange was sitting in his throat, blocking his airways a bit. Gripping the steering wheel tightly at ten and two, he tried to let some of the air up from his stomach, but the bubbles stayed exactly where they were, gurgling amongst the sickly combination of food in his belly.

He slid his right hand from two to twelve on the steering wheel, glancing once again to make sure his dad was still asleep; Trevor would definitely yell at him for having one hand off the wheel, but it was a straight, empty road, and Charlie was decidedly below the recommended speed.

Besides, he could probably pull up enough strength to telekinetically steer the car, if he had to. Having acceleratingly strong demonic powers had its unexpected quirks, after all.

Charlie rubbed a hand across his belly, realising that it was filling out his hoodie a lot more than it should have been. He stifled a whimper as he pushed on the swell, hoping to force up at least some of what was making his stomach feel so bad. It gurgled under his hand, the pain shifting slightly but not upwards. There was a slight rumble in his chest, a fizzing in the back of his throat, but nothing more.

He put his left hand back on the wheel and sighed, surviving on the fact that at least he’d be home and lying in bed without the hour.

Back home

“Night, Mum, night, Dad,” Charlie called dully down the hall, though they’d probably both passed out on their bed in the time it had taken him to brush his teeth. He’d hoped the minty flavour would have soothed the burning acidity, but it had just mixed sickly with the fizzy orange reflux. He could finally hunch over a bit and rub his belly with a little more force, now he was alone in his room.

He reached for his bedside lamp, when a tap on the window made him jump. He almost knocked his little brown stuffed bear from the nightstand, and he rushed to straighten him.

“Sorry, Vincent,” he whispered before approaching the window. Another tiny pebble hit the glass and Charlie groaned under his breath. Couldn’t that boy learn how to send a text?

Charlie cradled his belly as he spotted the dark-haired figure in the back yard. Usually, the sight of Shayne gave him a very light, pleasant feeling, but right now he felt the furthest from light he’d ever been. He sighed and directed his gaze towards the back door, focusing on undoing the lock before ducking back into the room.

He leaned against the windowsill, rubbing his belly desperately. It was definitely too much to ask, that all of the burps trapped inside him come up in the time it took Shayne to get inside, take off his ridiculous boots, and creep upstairs. All Charlie succeeded in bringing up were a couple of orangey splashes that burned his tongue.

“Whatever it is, I’m not in the mood,” he whispered as soon as Shayne let himself quietly into the room.

The dark-haired boy frowned as he closed the door. “Hmm?”

Charlie sighed and sat down on his bed. “I don’t care if it’s a voodoo doll or a silver stake or a monkey’s fucking paw. Can we do it another time?”

“Okay, first of all; hi,” Shayne muttered. “Second; how would any of those things be useful in exorcising or communicating with a demon? And third; where were you all?”

“My cousin’s christening,” Charlie said, slipping a hand into his hoodie pocket so he could keep some pressure on his stomach. “It went on kind of late.”

“You’re telling me?” Shayne began to pace evenly back and forth. “This place gives me shivers on a normal day. Ten times worse when it’s all dark and unoccupied.”

“Well, you could try not hanging around on other people’s property,” Charlie grumbled.

“I caught three demons in the back yard,” Shayne said. “Three demons that will never possess your parents, so you’re welcome.”

“So, you’ve got fucking warding jars on you?” Charlie whined. He knew he was feeling awful for a reason, but if those jars were close-by, they certainly wouldn’t be helping.

“’Course not, I left them at the far end of the garden,” Shayne hissed. “Okay, you’re sounding more like me than me tonight. What’s going on?”

Charlie swallowed and looked up at his friend. His belly was groaning, and he hoped he was the only one hearing it. He pulled his hand from his pocket and started holding it a bit more firmly, giving up the secrecy.

“I don’t feel so good,” he whined, sitting forward. “My tummy’s really sore.”

“Oh. Well, why haven’t you taken any of those tablets you always try to force on me?”

“Because I’ll be fine once I can burp, but so far, nothing wants to come up.” Charlie’s face burned at hearing himself give so much detail. He lowered his head as he leaned towards his knees, curling around the knot of pain.

He felt the mattress take Shayne’s weight, and then a hand prying his away from his stomach. He took a sharp breath and looked up.

“Are you going to rub my tummy?”

“You’ll never hear me say it in those words, but… yeah.” Shayne was still frowning, though Charlie recognised a slight blush in his cheeks. “Here, straighten up. Stop sitting like an idiot.”

“That’s mean,” Charlie whined, slowly released his vice-grip on his belly and straightening his back. “Why do I feel like you’re going to be really bad at – mmm.”

Shayne’s hand could almost have covered Charlie’s whole belly if it hadn’t been so bloated and tight. His stomach churned uneasily alongside the movement of Shayne’s fingers, until Charlie felt gas bubbles press up towards his chest. He felt himself groan without deciding he was going to.

Shayne held his breath, pausing the motion of his hand. “What? Am I doing it wrong?”

“No, no, don’t stop,” Charlie groaned. “Can you rub my back, too?”

As soon as Shayne pressed on Charlie’s stomach and ran a hand up his spine, Charlie felt the gas bubbles release, making a deep rumbling sound in his chest. He pressed a fist to his mouth and turned his head away from Shayne. The burp was so loud Charlie worried it would wake his parents, and lasted about four seconds.

“Holy shit,” Shayne whispered. “I think I felt the room shake.”

“Shut up,” Charlie groaned.

“Feel any better?”

“Not really.”

“I’m going to lift your jumper, okay?”

Charlie almost squeaked as Shayne slid his hand under his hoodie, rubbing at the straining skin of his belly. Charlie dug his nails into the duvet to keep himself from wriggling. His skin was starting to feel prickly and warm, but that could have just been because of what was happening. Shayne was here and touching him, and not just through his clothes. He had his hand on Charlie’s bare torso. He was in pain, but he should have been enjoying this at least a little.

A weak smile twitched across his mouth as he nudged his cheek experimentally against Shayne’s shoulder. When the dark-haired boy didn’t flinch in any major way, he let himself lean a little harder, hoping his heart wasn’t pounding as loudly as he thought it was.

“What did you do to it, anyway?” Shayne asked, and it took Charlie a second to realise he was talking about his stomach. His fingers kneaded gently across it

“I, um, just kept eating, I guess.” Charlie turned his head to let out another burp, though this one sounded like it was strangled on its way up from his stomach. “And my dad kept bringing me fizzy drinks. Designated driver, you know? Aw – fuck, Shayne.”

Charlie frowned and winced as his stomach suddenly lurched under the pressure of Shayne’s hand.

“Shit – what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie murmured, his cheeks suddenly tingling. A certain kind of panic began to ring in his ears. “Oh, god, I think I’m going to –”

He retched before fully realising it was happening, before he could do any kind of aiming or get his hands in front of his mouth. His hands did fly out, one landing on Shayne’s back, the other on his own knee. The majority of the thick, orange vomit landed down the front of Shayne’s jacket and t-shirt, the rest of it flicked across Shayne’s jeans and the duvet cover.

“Oh, my god, Shayne,” Charlie gasped. His hand was shaking as he brought it up to cover his mouth. Almost immediately, his head pitched forward again, another long gush of sticky orange liquid and chunks of bar food spraying over the sleeve of his hoodie as he tried to block it, but a lot still landed in Shayne’s lap.

Shayne sighed, though he really hoped Charlie didn’t hear it. He’d definitely take it the wrong way, thinking Shayne was sighing out of frustration when really, it was the only way he could release the intense sympathy he felt as the blonde boy clung to him and vomited. Shayne continued to rub Charlie’s back, though he wasn’t sure if it was helping or making things worse.

Charlie hiccuped into his sleeve, clearly forgetting that he’d just gotten sick all over it.

“Shayne,” he croaked, slowly lifting his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Feeling any better?”

“Actually, yeah, I am.”

Shayne shrugged. “Then it’s fine. Jesus, if only exorcising you was so damn easy.”

[hisgirlwonder]

One Shot – His Little Demon

Length: 1.3k words Warning: Smut, Sub Michael/Dom reader, kink, humiliation/degrading, ruined orgasm, etc - read at your own discretion Synopsis: Michael has been staying late almost every night since this project started trying to develop Ms. Mead’s robot so she’s perfect but neglecting y/n, his beautiful wife, in the process. When y/n has had enough, Michael is in for a surprise. Notes: Set in AHS / I didn’t think I’d enjoy writing Michael being in trouble but apparently I did? I haven’t done too much proofreading of this so I hope it makes sense. Enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to see more of Michael being dominated by his wife.

Michael Langdon wasn’t afraid of much, except when you were mad.

-

The door flings open and you storm through it; your heels loudly hitting the floor beneath your feet. “Where is he? Where is my husband?” You bark, looking around the room. Your sight falls onto the front desk to see someone other than Venable; she wasn’t exactly your favourite person. Venable was a bitch through and through and had a heart colder than ice.

Instead, Mutt has taken her place and is sitting in her seat. All he can do is laugh awkwardly in an attempt at masking your distress, unsure what to say or do at this point. You snap at him, “Think this is funny, do you? Well it’s not. Where is he?”

“He, is, in in in, his office, Mrs Langdon.” Mutt tries to speak but he’s stumbles over his words. Already scared of you for being married to his boss, because Michael is a power all on his own, but now even more because you’re upset. He saw with his own eyes what Michael was capable of and the thought constantly crossed his mind when you were in his presence as to whether or not you were gifted in the same way.

You lean down on the desk in front of him, sneering, “Why don’t you go and be a good boy and get him for me then?” Mutt doesn’t verbally respond but his actions speak louder than words when he practically runs to Michael, almost falling over in the process. You’re watching through the window of the room he disappears into; Michael is sitting in the chair in front of his computer. You can hear a muffled voice, “Your woman is here and she is pissed.”

Seconds later, his face drops into one of his hands with the other vaguely gesturing in your direction. You were guessing he was telling his incompetent employee to get you. Michael knew he was in trouble and had a fair idea as to why. Mutt exits his office, trying not to visibly grimace at you when he catches your eye, and says that Michael wants to see you.

-

As you dart over to where Michael is you notice that he’s trying to force his mouth into a smile. His mouth opens to start speaking but you stop him in his tracks; your right hand makes a zipping motion over your lips. “I just ask for one night. One. I can’t believe you would choose working on your fucking doll yet again over me, Michael.”

Planting yourself in front of him, you force his legs apart using a knee and place a foot on his chair; resting dangerously close to his crotch with one of your Louboutins. Your well-sculpted legs now spread before him, Michael was able to see everything underneath your skirt, specifically your lack of underwear, and he was practically drooling at the sight. He desperately wanted to be between your thighs; writing an apology over those curves from his tongue.

You’d gone the whole nine yards today - you were wearing his favourite perfume, had on the lipstick he loved because it “brought out your eyes”, and even styled your hair how he liked it. You wanted to make him suffer.

“Cat got your tongue?” you taunt. You knew that this man standing before you, the man that you loved, felt ridiculous after what he’d done to you but you wanted him to learn. He couldn’t stand making you upset and usually you were fairly reasonable except, as of late, Kineros Robotics had gotten more of him than you had. When he brought the company out you specifically told him there needed to be equal give and take; he unfortunately had gotten in way over his head with the current project he was working on.

“Honey, I’m sor-“ Michael tries to speak before you cut him off.

“You’re sorry, right? Yeah, I’m sorry too.” Part of you couldn’t look at him without feeling a tiny bit of guilt but the humiliation overwhelmed you. He needed to understand there were consequences to breaking his word.

“Why are you sorry?” Michael questions what you’ve said, completely unaware about what is to come.

Your hands are straightening up his collar, “Because, darling husband, I have to punish you now, in your place of work, where your colleagues have to see.” Your mouth hovers close to his ear, “I’m sure they’ll love to know the man they see higher than God is secretly a little bitch.” That sentence slid off the tongue like water off a ducks back.

Those words would hurt any normal person, but Michael? No. Michael was anything but normal. They stung him momentarily before turning him into a puddle on the floor. He was a sucker for your degradation. Michael worshipped the ground you walked on and he’d kiss it if you asked. He’d probably even lick your shoes clean if it made you happy.

-

“Stand up and let me sit down,” you order him. The two of you trade places, Michael perches himself on the desks edge and you sit in the chair. Your hand rubs over his crotch. “Yeah, just as I figured. You are rock hard and I’m guessing already leaking too.” You undo his trousers and let them fall down, exposing his underwear. The suspicions you held were right; a small patch of pre-cum had formed below his waistband. You question him, trying not to grin, “Was this before or after I threatened your manhood?”

Michael gulps, “Before. When Mutt told me you were here and you were mad....” he trails off. You click your tongue and mock him, “Michael Langdon, Prince of Darkness, coming undone from being belittled like a child.”

You take out his erection out of his underwear; he’s throbbing at your touch and his hips instinctively buck. A hand strokes him lightly, you grumble, “Don’t you dare think about moving. This doesn’t let you off the hook, either.”

Picking up the pace, you tease him, “You know what? Since you didn’t come home until late last night I had to satisfy myself.” You pump his shaft faster and Michael starts to whimper at the change in speed. “That new toy, the one we were saving, made me cum seven times last night. Seven times.”

Michael is grasping at the table it’s obvious he’s getting close. To make things worse you continue taunting him with your words; reminding him what he’s been missing out on. He repeatedly says, crying, “I'm sorry, I-I-I’m sorry,” as you’re bringing him to the edge, again and again. It isn’t long before he’s begging you for mercy and to let him finish. Your tone becomes more playful but callous, “Okay, Michael. If you want it that badly then you can have it.”

You rise up from the chair and position yourself to his side, making sure you get out of the firing line, so to speak. You bring him to the edge but let go of his cock as he climaxes; ruining the orgasm you had been building up and leaving him to spill everywhere, making a mess all over his pants. Michael grunts both in satisfaction and frustration; his ruined orgasm causing him to be less satisfied than usual.

Your now empty hand reaches up to his face and rubs at his cheek. “Oops. Looks like someone made a mess.”  As you walk off, you tell him, “I’ll see you at home tonight for dinner.”

Taglist: @sensitivethot @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sammythankyou (let me know if you want to be added)

[mrpinchy]

Jokes and Flirts for Allied Races

Highmountain, Nightborne, Void Elves, Lightforged Draenei

Not everything has been datamined yet and some things are subject to change or removal.  **EDIT: female void elf lines added!**

Void Elf (male):

What am I into? Let's just say some of my proclivities can run a bit... dark. 

I do my best work in the shadows. Allow me to demonstrate. 

The Void has taught me many secrets. Some of them can be most... satisfying. 

As a rule, I don't sprout tentacles. But in your case, I'll make an exception. 

When studying shadow magic, one learns to be flexible. Very... flexible. 

You sate my hunger... and I'll sate yours. 

I know what you're thinking... "Oh goody, another elf." Well... I bet you weren't expecting a VOID elf, now were you?

If you're looking for tall dark, and brooding, that's me. Well, dark and brooding, at least.

Say what you will about the tenets of the Void. At least it's an ethos!

Would you believe purple has always been my favorite color? Even before I went void, I mean.

Alleria is my favorite Windrunner sister. Edgier than Vereesa, but slightly less homicidal than the dead one.

The fact that I wield void energies doesn't mean I plan to consume everything I see. After all, I have a figure to maintain.

Old Gods... I mean, really? Some have mouths for eyes, others have eyes for mouths. Talk about a hot mess... 

Void Elf (female)

They say the Void hungers. Let’s start off with a bit of nibbling.

Get nice and close. Whispers are kinda my thing.

Are you checking out my void form?

There is a void in my heart. Have you come to fill it?

Who needs the Light? It’s so much more fun in the dark.

You cannot a-void my charms.

The Void isn’t the only thing that’s insatiable.

No, we do not drink blood–that’s the San'layn. Totally different emo elf.

First was high, then blood, and now void. Get the order right.

Who does my hair? You might have heard of my stylist. It’s called THE VOID.

Gloomy? I’m not gloomy. I just dress that way… and talk that way… and act that way.

You think YOU have a dark side? Elf, please.

Well, yes, technically the Void does want to consume the entire cosmos. But I’ll settle for a smaller bite… for now.

No matter how much you plead, I will not sprout tentacles or turn into a giant eyeball. Well, I might. But not because you asked.

Lightforged Draenei (male)

I like it with the lights on. Not that I really have a choice... 

Has it gotten brighter in here? Because you just turned me on. 

I thought my tattoo said "Light's Defender" in naaru. I found out it actually says "glowing goat". 

This world of yours is very strange. Talking bears who practice kung fu? On Argus, we call that a circus. 

After being aboard a ship for so long, it is nice to walk on solid ground again. All those hard surfaces were murder on my hooves! 

My life for Aiur... <cough> Argus. My life for ARGUS! 

Have you ever seen the bunks on the Vindicaar? I can arrange a private tour.

If one more of you natives calls me a walking chandelier, I swear I'll...

Sorry if my tattoos look a little dim. I forgot to charge my battery last night.

Face tentacles?! We do NOT have face tentacles! If we did, that would mean draenei are secretly emissaries of the Void, gaining your trust as we infiltrate your society so that we can bring about its end. And I'm certain you're not implying THAT... are you?

I'm a draenei on the streets... but an eredar in the sheets.

The Vindicaar is a fast ship. You could say it travels at Light speed. 

Lightforged Draenei (female)

When in doubt... touch anything that glows.

No, I do not have a glowing stamp above my tail.

Have you met my dog? His name is Barkenon Puppos.

Toes are overrated. Hooves make pedicures go sooooo much faster.

I don't recommend walking barehoof on the Vindicaar. We keep finding tiny shards of crystal that didn't get swept up.

We haven't crashed the Vindicaar yet... but given our track record, it's only a matter of time.

One downside of being Lightforged is that my S.E.L.F.I.E.S. are always overexposed.

Turalyon was the only human I saw for a thousand years. I assumed all of them were grizzled and scarred.

My turn-ons include my eyes, my tattoos, my armor... I mean, what doesn't turn on?

I may be forged in the Light, but I know how to have fun in the dark.

Have you seen Prophet Velen's new dance? He calls it the Mac'Areena. 

Nightborne (male)

Your body must be a font of magic, because I'm irresistibly drawn to it.

You must know magic too, because you just made everyone else in the room disappear.

You've found the Arcway to my heart.

Mmmm, I wanna tap that ley line.

I think I've night-fallen for you.

I've got a feeling we were night-born for each other.

The stars have judged you, and found you... smokin' hot.

Were you picked from the Arcan'dor? Because you're the apple of my eye.

To be honest, most of the time something was quite right.

Why does everyone keep asking me to say that? Ughhhhh. Fine. An Illusion. What are you hiding.

My name is Roy, and I'm a mana addict.

It's what I do. I drink arcwine... and I know things.

Back in my day, there was only one kind of elf. ONE.

I don't know why they call it the Court of Stars. I hang out there all the time and I never see anyone famous.

Let's be honest. Keeping a giant, angry dinosaur caged up in a zoo was bound to end badly. 

Nightborne (female)

Is that an illusion in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

No illusions here. Everything you see is real... very real.

My Nightwell brings all the boys to the yard.

Animate? Detonate? I suggest we skip straight to replicate.

I'll show you my ley lines if you show me yours.

I've been trapped in a bubble with the same guys for 10,000 years. You could say I'm ready for a little... variety.

There's no area denial in this raid.

An allusion! What are you implying?

Roses are red, our city is fair. Is that a disguise? WHO GOES THERE?

Care for a glass of arcwine? I jumped on the berries myself.

Tyrande still looks good after all these years. Know if she's seeing anyone?

I met this kal'dorei who told me my dress was the pinnacle of fashion... 10,000 years ago. Ouch! Those night elves really know how to throw shade!

Night elves? More like country elves! They live in trees, sleep in dens... sometimes even grow antlers. They're not cut out for life in a REAL city.

You really must attend one of our parties in the Court of Stars. I've never met anyone more in need of a mask. 

Highmountain Tauren (male)

Trust me... I have experience at exploring deep places.

My totem thunders. All. Night. Long.

Beware the deep places... of my heart.

Get as rough as you like. I've got a thick hide.

You must be an alchemist, because we've got great chemistry.

Why does that draenei couple keep asking me where Rocky is?

Let's play a game. We take a drink every time a harpy screeches about earth and stone.

I may be a simple tauren from the mountains, but at least I don't dig through worm dung for loot.

Ha! A buddy of mine convinced this epic-geared adventurer to kick fish into the river! Oh wait... that wasn't you, was it?

A tauren, a yaungol, and a taunka walk into a bar. This isn't a joke--it's my family reunion.

What smells worse than a drogbar? Two drogbar. What smells worse than two drogbar? Nobody knows, because the stench will kill you.

Did you just try to hang your hat on my antlers? What do I look like, a coat rack?

Why settle for horns when you could have a rack like this?

I'm forming a group of tauren demon hunters. We're called the Illi-dairy. 

Highmountain Tauren (female)

So... wanna knock antlers?

Are you staring at my rack?

It's not the size of the antlers. It's the motion of the totem.

What do you get when you feed cocoa to a Highmountain tauren? Chocolate moose!

Why are the Rivermane always so calm? Because they've learned to go with the flow.

Brrrrr, it's cold in here. In the mood for some ice cream?

Tauren make the best poets. Their verse is so moooooving.

You know the way to a woman's heart? Hoof rubs. Trust me on this one, darling.

He said my eyes were "milky". Talk about a mood killer...

I know Ethel. She's actually a very fast walker. She just thinks it's funny to mess with tourists.

You know, high-altitude living does wonders for one's stamina. Allow me to demonstrate...

You don't need to be from the Skyhorn tribe to join the mile high club.

We are Highmountain. Unless you're leaving. Then we're Goodbye Mountain.