#step up to the plate if they had to

[frobby]

one of my favorite senarios to imagine to put yukio in is sending him 10 years into the future (with the exwires usually) and everyone from their class are like chill adults including himself working their boring ass exorcist job and hes trying to assert dominance over them as the teacher™ but they're all like bro why so serious?

[lokh]

fastest way to piss me off is to try and add something to a task im in the middle of doing because 'youre already doing it so this shouldnt be extra work tee hee' THATS NOT HOW THIS WORKS

[tommygettingwrittenoff]

i need them to put eddie in a coma so he can have his own little coma dream realization

[james-p-sullivan]

im in my spongebob era

[heartual]

new pair of underwear immediately tore first time wearing them when they’re my size and everything 🧍🏻‍♀️

[boltlightning]

more block printing stuff :) feat. some gorgeous handmade paper that doesn't take the ink great, but looks and feels great

based on this roman fresco and mosaic:

(from a villa in oplontis and pompeii's house of orpheus, respectively)

[ragnarokhound]

Love how your unga bunga tag is dedicated to jason todd. I get it

Alskdjsk this is not the first time I've been called out like this OTL

LISTEN. ITS NOT MY FAULT PEOPLE KEEP DRAWING HIM SO PRETTY OKAY TuT he's so babygirl and he makes me feral

[lupismaris]

.

[dodgebolts]

pink's path to success: a brief analysis of purpled (and fuschia's) parkour warrior run

To start off, they immediately start discussing strats! Purp seems to have done his research thoroughly—he points out where to go right off the start, and also explains how the timer works and how to optimize your time. And, true to expectations, Charlie and Ranboo latch onto the strategy of strategically giving up 😭

Something really interesting is that he's never fully in first place. even on the harder routes, he almost always seems to be behind someone, whether that be fruit, tapl, krtzyy, etc. It's worth noting that a lot of the time it's hard to tell whether someone just used their scroll to head back to the main path or completely finished the bonus section, so this may not be entirely accurate, but it seems that this is *mostly* true.

Another thing that I noticed throughout the entire course is how important hypixel (and mineplex) parkour experience seems to be in completing the levels—a lot of the difficult jumps are slight variations on things I've seen doing jumps in housing, and the disappearing blocks are reminiscent of jumps I've given up on in minigames like Christmas Chaos on Mineplex! That experience seemed to be invaluable, and the fact that both purpled and ranboo have long hours on hypixel housing and just general talent at parkour explains a lot about their 1st and 4th respective placements.

Also throughout the entire course, Purpled made sure to check in with his team and remind them that they need to be keeping track of their progress at the top of the screen—even though there was a lot of screaming and yelling, their clear comms on that issue were important in giving their entire team enough time to finish. This also came in handy when both purp and his team verbally noted that they were giving up on a bonus path, and especially at the end when he realizes he doesn't have enough time to get through the medium. He then says that he's moving to the easy path, which given his elevated parkour ability, means that the rest of the team (save for Ranboo who made it to the end of the medium) should probably follow suit.

Even during overtime after they'd all finished, he still continued to strategize for the next time that the game is played, and given his strong performance, I can't wait to see how he improves next time. Purpled's strong leadership and strategy, combined with his team's strong mechanical performance and their collective clear comms, made pink incredibly successful in the game!! Congrats to Fuschia on their deserved win in the game :]

[thecandywrites]

Kinktober Day 23- Hair Pulling

Yeah, I had to go all the way back to my very first orc x human pairing reader insert story, the one that's been on hiatus for...way too long. To get these two. But TOTALLY WORTH IT.

Meet Bronson- who goes by Bro and Darcy. And yeah, I know it's Kinktober and this is pure fluff with very little kink but there's plenty of literal hair pulling. So it counts. Right? And it's that - been friends since elementary school- trope. But they're *" technically"* cousins, only because Bronson's mother's brother is Darcy's step dad. But not related by blood, just circumstances. Which is both a blessing and a curse. But back to the trope- so because of this- you secretly pine for each other and love each other but don't want to fuck it up by admitting you have feelings so you try to act normal and you fail because your actions still prove how you feel' trope/cliche that you shall pull from my cold dead hands.

A millenia's worth of thanks to @starsandskies for providing these kinktober prompts. Yes I know it's November. I got behind. But I only have a handful left to do and I wanted to make sure I got to do all of them even though my personal life has been a dumpsterfire.

But this was just so fun. I couldn't resist.

Kinktober Day 23- Hair Pulling

Bro sat in geometry class and was feeling particularly possessive and angry as the class clown- Daren this time- yanked on Darcy’s braid for the second time in a row as he had noticed Daren’s antics and was recording it. It didn’t matter how Darcy wore her hair, but especially when she wore it in the more “traditional” orc styles that she had worn to school that day and any other day that this tended to happen to her. And while Darcy had some of the most beautiful hair. Bro was getting sick and tired of others touching it without Darcy’s permission. 

Bro and Darcy had been friends since elementary school. And Darcy was human, who had a human mother Richelle, but had remarried Bro’s uncle Pierce about 9 years prior. Darcy still wore the necklace he first got her, still wore his first bead he had commissioned for her on it, along with all the others he had ever given her ever since and the necklace, had to be on a very robust gold chain now. But still sat very prettily around her neck as she still used that first bead he commissioned for her as her personal worry stone to touch during class and coursework or especially during tests. 

Darcy- even nine years later- was still the prettiest girl in class. She was still the most eligible bachelorette. Mostly because her mother forbade her from dating while in school, because Richelle wanted Darcy to focus on school while in school and for the most part, Darcy was happy to use it as an excuse to thwart the hordes of interested parties. 

So while she practically had to take a vow of singleness and celibacy. The older she got, the more she grew and developed, it seemed every year, every guy completely forgot about all of that previous year and so far, sophomore year was turning out just like freshman year. But instead of just everyone in her grade. Now it seemed to consume the entire highschool, and this punk was a freshman from a different middle school who hadn’t gone through the same elementary or middle school she did. So now she had to contend with every boy from Freshman to Senior year. 

But Bro was still her closest friend in the world. And he never stopped crushing on her or loving her from the moment he met her for his 7th birthday party where she and her mom ended up being his last minute guests to because they just happened to be at the same recreation center his mother hosted his birthday party at. Where coincidentally, his uncle met Darcy's mother, and promptely fell in love with her that day too and several months later, got married, built a farmhouse in the country and had their own homestead farm on.

Bro had helped name every chicken she ever got. He helped build the damn coop. He had a horse, at her farm that they rode together with. He still spent most of his weekends with her, riding horses and caring for them, helping her taking care of the chickens, planting gardens in the spring, harvesting during the summer and fall. Since they first met at his 7th birthday party the two were practically insperable after that.

And during school- doing homework, doing big assignments together too when they could team up. He tried to make sure every class he took, he could be in the same classes with her, or at least, his friends could when he couldn’t because Darcy depended on Bro’s protection and the protection of his other friends since she was 7 and started to go to elementary school with him and was always in the same elementary classes, the same middle school classes and now- same high school classes.

Because when Darcy was not with one of them, she was always targeted and practically had to sit next to the teacher and be the teacher’s pet just to keep safe from hormonal crazed boys. And while she had tried to keep a few friends, mostly the girlfriends of Bro’s friends, they were always jealous of the unwanted attention and admiration that Darcy got. So she still had to endure everyone's infatuation, yet ultimately- isolation and alienation from everyone else because of it.

Darcy now had two little siblings, a little brother and a little sister now, who were half human and half orc, who she felt she needed to protect too.

But after 9 years of this and a potential two more of it, Darcy was beyond fed up with it. And while she did her best to dress down, never wear makeup, never wear anything even remotely revealing. She even tried to go for- full ‘cowgirl’ aesthetic with steel toed cowboy boots, jeans, a belt with a belt buckle she had won at her last barrel racing tournament. And a simple t-shirt with a flannel shirt over it. It didn’t matter how loose her jeans were, or how much she covered up, she still turned heads just walking to class, from student and teacher alike. 

Bro had gotten into more than his fair share of fights to keep Darcy safe from boys who had a hard time taking “no” for an answer. And his friends, thankfully never wavered from being his friends and helping him take on other boys who could be heads and shoulders taller or twice as broad and strong as himself. 

Technically he could- at this point- graduate. He had a job at his dad's and uncle’s video game development company lined up that he did part time on the side. He even had an office that was practically waiting for him. He could rent an apartment and strike out on his own. But he would not do it. Because if he did, that would leave Darcy alone because humans didn’t consider their teenagers “adults” till they were 18. And Bro did not want Darcy to endure the last two and probably the hardest two years of school that she had left, especially without him to be there and watching her back and still being her shield between her and everyone else.  

And honestly hair pulling? Really? Did Daren have the maturity of a toddler?  

“Stop it.” Darcy growled at Daren behind her when she felt it a second time. When he did it the first time and she was quick to snatch her hair out of Daren’s grasp and ask him to stop which he played dumb to which irritated her to no end. 

“Stop what? I wasn’t doing anything.” Daren tried to play dumb again. 

“I felt you grab my braid and pull it for the second time now. Stop pulling my hair. What are you two?” She accused. 

“It wasn’t me, sorry, but since I have your attention, did you want to go out on Friday? Go to Dave and Busters or something?” Daren offered. 

“No thank you. I have plans. I have asked you to stop touching me twice now. But if you ever think about pulling my hair a third time or touching me or anything that belongs to me, you will regret it. Now- if you’ll excuse me I have classwork to do and since your papers are still clearly blank- you should try to do the same.” Darcy curtly dismissed before she turned around to try to refocus on her class work. 

But just as Daren was about to reach out to pull her braid again- Bro loudly got out of his desk and grabbed Daren by the shoulder and slammed him back into his seat as he set his phone with the camera facing them down on Daren’s desk to focus on himself and Daren having this exchange. 

“She said she didn’t want to be touched. When a lady says she doesn't want to be touched, she means it. I saw you pull her braid and she asked you to stop. Try again and you and I will have problems.” Bro growled dangerously into Daren’s ear as Darcy simply smiled proudly while she continued to solve the math problems laid out for her in the geometry worksheet. 

“Gods it’s right what they say about the two of you.” Daren laughed before Darcy’s heckles went back up as she glared at him over her shoulder and slowly turned in her seat but kept her glare fixed with Daren and kept his gaze as she lowkey pulled the brass knuckles she kept in her pockets that had been wrapped in a pretty piece of cloth to make it look like just a normal scarf tied around her knuckles, but could also be hid in the secret compartment of her belt buckle too.

“And what would that be?” Darcy asked as Bro now recognized her temper flare in the fire of her eyes as her gaze bored into Daren as her jaw clenched and her chest start to heave in preparations for another fight.

“That Bro is always the Bro in the friendzone and that you’re Darcy Dick-tease.” Daren practically cooed and before Bro could do anything, Darcy, with lightning fast speed struck first and punched him right in the nose. 

And the sound of the crunch of bones and the sudden yell in pain from Daren was enough to draw the entire class’ attention as Darcy just as easily slipped the brass knuckles back into her pocket as she leaned over, grabbed Daren by the hair and slammed his face down into the desk as hard as she could.

Which for the last 9 years of having a farm and taking care of horses and riding them, Darcy was always an active child. But she was also very strong for her size which her clothes did a good job of hiding pretty well. 

“Insult me and my honor again motherfucker!” Darcy seethed ragefully towards him as she had her fists up to her face and was already in a fighting pose in case he tried to sneak a hit in himself. 

“Darcy!” The teacher- Mrs. Robbie gasped in astonishment.

“He pulled my hair twice, I asked him to stop twice. I warned him if he put his hands either on me or my hair again, that he and I would have problems. He asked me out, I told him no. And when he insulted me after I turned him down, I fought back. He put his hands on me first. So if you feel I stepped out of line- go ahead, send me to the principal’s office again for defending myself to keep myself out of harms way and from being sexually assaulted in your classroom- again. Which you have already witnessed all the other boys do since the start of class this semester and you have done nothing to protect me except give them a stern talking to.” Darcy justified, granted, just a bit disrespectfully, resentfully and spitefully to Mrs. Robbie. 

“And I watched him do that and asked him to stop since Darcy already asked him not to touch her. And he denied it.” Bro gestured to Daren whose face was bleeding profusely as he was coughing and splurting blood to try to argue. But instead was using his own hoodie to soak it all up.

Bro held up his hands showing how- for once, he wasn’t the first one to start or finish it, Darcy was. As Bro felt particularly proud for giving her those. He always gave her a pair of brass knuckles at the start of a new school year since middle school. He had already stopped the recording and slyly put his phone into his own backpocket. 

“Fine, all three of you, principles office.” She said as she pointed to the door while Darcy gladly packed up her stuff as did Bro.

While Daren’s friends tried to help him and clean up all the blood before Daren went to the school nurse who was a real nurse and EMT and called for an ambulance for Daren to go to the ER to get his nose fixed.

But Darcy didn't feel the least bit of sadness or remourse for the damage she inflicted because she was sick and tired of being the whole "damsel in distress" but also knew she was up against boys who were literally two to three times her size and strength. So she had to have something to keep herself safe. Even at this relatively "safe" space that was school.

So she and Bro sat together in the office with their backpacks between their feet and waited for the principle to see them as Darcy had her arms crossed over her chest but was still leaning into Bro’s side and letting her head rest on his shoulder- which he didn’t mind one bit. 

“So. Who was it this time?” Principal Walters asked as she saw Darcy and Bro sitting there together, again, as she sighed tiredly. But this time, neither of them seemed to have a scratch on them.

“Daren Drake. He pulled my hair twice. I asked him to stop- twice. I warned him that if he did it again and put his hands on me or anything that belongs to me that we were going to have problems but he did not heed my warning. Instead, he asked me out, and when I turned him down, he insulted me by calling me “Darcy Dick-tease”. So I punched him in the face and slammed his head onto the desk. He’s just here because he witnessed it all go down and was recording it happen and was asking Daren to stop after he caught Daren pulling on my braid both the first and second times.” Darcy repeated before she nodded over to Bro who happily pulled his phone out and played what he had captured. And thankfully had the camera pointed away from Darcy and trained on himself and Daren to record their own conversation and conceal the fact that she punched Daren with brass knuckles on. 

“Oh by all the gods.” Principal Walters sighed tiredly again as she watched the scene on the camera unfold. So she had them come into the office while she wrote up the report and an excuse for both of them to not get detention. She had a rule for her school, if you instigated a fight, would you get in trouble or get detention for it. While the person who simply was defending themselves after giving a warning didn’t get punished. And ever since Darcy came into her high school, after getting the heads up from the Principal for the elementary school and the middle school. She had seen how almost every boy in every grade above and below Darcy’s grade but especially all the boys in Darcy’s grade, with Bro and his friends being the only ones who had not pulled something like this on Darcy. And so far, no one was stupid enough to press charges especially when their sons were guilty of sexual harrassment as Darcy and Bro were both texting their parents about it. 

“My parents want to know if they should come to the school or if you want to have a sit down meeting with Daren’s parents so Bro can show him the footage of their son harassing me?” Darcy asked the Principal. 

“Well, hang on, let me ask.” She said as she finished with the report and called Daren’s parents. 

“What happened to my boy?” Daren’s father Grug demanded angrily as he got a call to come from work to go to the hospital where his son was getting his nose fixed and realigned. 

“Sir, your son Daren was caught on video by another student harassing a sophomore girl in their geometry class. She asked him twice to keep his hands to himself and off of her and he denied touching her even though the video clearly proves otherwise. He then asked her out, she denied his request and his insult to both her person and her honor in response to being turned down for a date- instigated a fight. She warned him, he didn’t listen and so she punched him.” She repeated matter of factly, just like she had for countless times both freshman and now for Sophmore year. 

“I see. Well then I would like to thank her for reminding my son to mind his manners, especially when it comes to girls, and please assure her that this behavior will never be repeated.” Grug grinned rather proudly. 

“Thank you very much for understanding. Sorry to pull you from work or give you any worry.” She offered. 

“No need, these things happen, especially at this age.” He reassured her before they said their goodbyes. 

“There, all done, you two can go back to class.” She excused as she handed both of them their excuses to get back to class. 

“Thank you again for having my back and understanding the situation and handling it Principal Walters. If you could please remind Mrs. Robbie of my history, especially when it comes to my safety on school grounds, I would really appreciate it because sadly this isn’t the first time this has happened in her class. This was just the first time it went from being purely verbal and threatening to go physical into actually being physical this time.” Darcy replied graciously as she took the note. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll remind all the teachers and give your future ones a head’s up.” She nodded in understanding. 

“Thank you. And if it isn’t too much to ask. My cousin Bronson has always been my shield for this kind of thing since the fourth grade. And I feel bad that he’s had to spend his entire school career watching over me and protecting me over his own school work. Can we try to do what we did second semester of freshman year and just have us in all the same classes again? I don’t care what class it is- I just don’t trust anyone who isn’t already a friend or family not to pull this kind of thing on me again.” Darcy requested. 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure from here on out, that if your cousin Bronson wants to stay in school for Junior and Senior years, to stay with you.” She readily agreed. 

“Thank you.” Darcy and Bro thanked her before they got out of there. 

“Well at least you got to finish it this time.” Bro murmured to her as they walked together back to class with the excuse notes in their hands to keep any hall monitors from giving them any trouble either. 

“Hey I have a favor to ask.” Darcy murmured as her steps slowed before they would both approach the classroom. 

“Shoot.” Bro invited.

“Afterschool, could you take me to that feedstore that’s next to the drive through liquor store?” She asked hopefully. 

“And get you hard cider?” He guessed with a knowing grin because the legal drinking age for orcs was 16. As was full driving privileges and Bro had been picking her up and dropping her off for school so she didn’t have to deal with the other idiots on the bus. 

“Please?” She pleaded. 

“A horse of course.” Bro readily answered with a charming smile that got Darcy to snort a laugh. 

“One of these days that joke is gonna fall flat.” Bro shrugged as he reached for the door to the classroom so she could go in first. 

“Not today.” Darcy reassured him as they both happily gave their notes to the teacher. 

“Bronson, if you could please change seats so that you now sit behind Miss Darcy so that no further incident can happen, that would be much appreciated.” Mrs. Robbie requested as it seemed she had already gotten a call from the Principal and was trying to correct the issue as Bro glady used more wipes to disinfect the desk from the presence of the previous occupant.

After school Darcy practically hopped out of the truck at the feed store to order more horse feed and supplements for the horses and the chickens and even got the chickens a snack block.

She waited for Bro to go through the liquor store’s drive through before she noticed he was back and he came inside just as she was making a show of perusing the other things in the store. But once Bro reappeared, he happily got the heavy bags of feed for her to load them up in the truck. While she got the snack block and containers of supplements and treats and loaded them into the back of his pickup truck.

Then they drove back to her house and backed his truck into the back of the barn so they could unload what they needed to in the barn. Then she got up into the hay loft and pulled down a bale of hay and distributed it among the stalls once the horses would come in from the pasture. Bronson put the bags of feed into the feed containers for her and went ahead and fed the chickens for her too.

And once all of that was done, they retreated to the bed of the truck to drink the six pack of hard cider together. Which hardly had any alcohol but was something that Darcy’s parents let her have at home anyway. 

“Maybe I should just shave all my hair off, so no one can pull it anymore or think I’m that pretty anymore.” Darcy suggested as she finished off the first bottle as they sat in companionable silence off of the edge of the truck tailgate. Bro nearly snorted out his mouthful of hard cider through his nose. Because of all the things she could say- he had not been expecting her to say that. 

“Then you’d get even more attention from guys thinking you have “the canca”, and try to make sure you don’t leave this world without getting off first.” Bro answered once he stopped choking on his drink but couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he mimicked Forrest Gump when he had said ‘the cancer’. Which got Darcy to giggle and laugh in response. 

“Yeah, that’d be the last thing I would want either.” Darcy sucked her teeth and shook her head before she opened the second and took a very long pull before she laid back into the bed of the truck and not caring if she got filthy dirty or not as she just stared up into the clouds overhead as Bro mirrored her and did the same. 

“Besides, even without hair, you’d still be beautiful, at least to me anyway.” Bro offered which got Darcy to smile.

She hated it when everyone always praised how pretty or beautiful she was. But never did mind when Bro said so himself and never argued with him over it. 

“Do you regret inviting me to your seventh birthday party yet?” Darcy asked. 

“Nope, never have and never will. Haven’t regretted inviting you to anything and everything since either.” Bro answered as he at least put an arm behind his head while the beads on the single braid that hung down from the back corner of his neck slid from his chest to the bed of the truck before Darcy turned onto her side to face him. 

“You sure? You really, really sure? Because you’ve had to give up a lot. New friends, a girlfriend, a normal school life, actually paying attention in class and getting better grades because you’re always taking care of me instead.” Darcy pointed out as she pouted into the mouth of the bottle in her hand.

“Darcy Lillian, when have I ever complained?” Bro asked which got her to finally look up at him as he turned to face her. 

“And when has your safety ever been less important than my mediocre grades?” He asked before she just rolled over onto her stomach and groaned as she buried her face into her folded arms as she set her beer aside. 

“Just because you don’t complain, doesn’t mean you can’t start to feel resentment.” Darcy murmured, her words muffled by her flannel overshirt. 

“Well I don’t resent it or you. Being your shield has always been the biggest and best thing I’ve ever done with my life.” Bro reassured her as he couldn’t resist but reach over and rub soothing circles into her back after brushing all the dirt and fall leaves that had fallen into the bed of the truck. He still smiled when she seemed to sigh contentedly as she peeked out and looked at him as she took a breath and was about to say something but decided against it and just turned back to hide her now blushing cheeks while also really enjoying the back rub nonetheless. 

“What?” Bro asked her when he saw her withdraw from him and practically turn into a hedgehog trying to hide away. 

“What were you gonna say?” He asked as he paused in rubbing her back and leaned down to where her head was to hear her answer. 

“What if it’s not enough?” Darcy asked as she fought not to cry. 

“What’s not enough?” Bro asked in confusion. 

“This, us. What we have now, what if it’s not enough?” Darcy enunciated a little louder. 

“Well what else do you need me to be?” Bro asked and all Darcy could do was laugh through her tears as she tried to rub them off on her sleeves. 

“Only you would ask that. With everything that you’ve done and everything that you do. You already do and give so much. But yet when I say ‘what if it’s not enough’ you ask how you can make it enough. You have never once asked for any other reward for all that you’ve done and continue to do- other than my friendship which I’m happy to give you. And we’ve used the ‘he’s my cousin’ excuse in elementary school and middle school and now it seems that we’re both in high school, that isn’t working anymore. Because I’m not- by blood- your cousin which everyone seems to constantly remind both of us as if we don’t already know. And as much as I love being part of your family and you being a part of mine and being your friend and you being my best friend in the whole wide world. It’s not enough…” Darcy began to rant before Bro finally realized what she was referring to and after 9 years of hoping, praying, planning, yearning and wanting, he finally had his chance. 

So he slid his fingers into her hair and used his purchase on her hair to pull her head up to kiss her. And really kiss her, the way he had always fantasized about. And like two magnets always coming back together she was practically gravitating her body to be flush with his as she kissed back as her tears finally ceased as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to partially lay down over her, with his hand still cushioning her between her precious head and the bed of his truck as he was happy to do so and so happy that this wasn’t blowing up in his face. 

But the fact that she finally allowed herself to show at least what and how she felt, made those 9 long years barely feel like minutes or even seconds worth of waiting. Because she was running her hands through his hair and scratching at his scalp while they continued to kiss and make out in the back of his truck before the need for air arose and he finally had to pull back so that both of them could catch their breath. 

“So what else do you need from me? What else can I be for you?” Bro asked as he pillowed her head with one arm but stroked down down her side with the other affectionately. 

“I just need you to keep loving me and not give up.” Darcy answered.

“At this point, it’s going to take an act of the gods to get me to stop.” Bro confessed which got her to smile. 

“Shh, don’t tempt them.” She whispered before she kissed him sweetly as kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world to her.  

“Well, I have a way of making it unofficially official.” Bro offered. 

“You give me one of your beads like all the other couples?” Darcy guessed as Bro nodded as she fingered the very first one she had got him that he still refused to take out of his hair except to clean and wash his hair only to put it right back in once it was rebraided. 

“Well we can always ask my parents - to simply “pretend” to date while in school. And once they catch on that it’s not pretending. I think the sleepovers aren’t really going to be allowed or be a thing anymore. But we might get the same excuse that we’re technically cousins used against us.” Darcy noted. 

“When have I ever cared about any of that? Well, the sleepvers are really nice. Any chance I can get to be with you, you know I always take.” Bro shrugged. 

“Likewise.” Darcy smiled as she buried her face into the crux of his neck and shoulder and sighed happily when he just laid with her and hugged. 

“Just for future reference. You’re the only one allowed to pull on my hair, especially like that.” Darcy giggled. 

“Oh you mean like this?” Bro asked as he did it again only to bring her face back up to kiss her again. 

“Uh huh.” Darcy hummed as she smiled into the kiss. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Bro reassured her. 

“I know. We always do.” Darcy smiled. 

[aswarmofbisexualbees]

Convinced my gay, southern coworker to watch Interview with the Vampire and he is alarmed by how much he looks like Louis.

He also said the sex scenes are making him homophobic, further updates will follow

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[rabbitgardens]

playing game takes time but making up plot beats on your notes app is free

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.

꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

 𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.

Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.

The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.

Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.

The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."

You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.

 Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.

Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"

The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."

The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."

 Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"

"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."

The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."

As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"

"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace.  The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.

The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller. 

  Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.

After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.

—

Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.

"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.

Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.

   Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.

Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.

Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.

Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.

"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."

You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."

The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."

You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard,  he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.

He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." 

  You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.

The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."

You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared,  causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.

After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."

You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating,  and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.

Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm.  Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.

As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience. 

  You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.

With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly. 

  "Might I inquire about your name?"  Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."

Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes. 

  A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.

His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.

You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "

 You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.

The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.  

  Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.

After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.

 Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips. 

  Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.

 Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.

With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )

His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.

With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies.  Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.

He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.

Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "

Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.

  With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.

A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )

 Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!” 

 With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby ) "Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?" 

  Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face.  Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix. 

Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.

" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans. 

   He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs. 

"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"

With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls.  A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."

With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”

The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.

You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"

 Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.

You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.

He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)

Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.

He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick. 

  Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.

He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.

The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.

Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole

" Dismissed. "

The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.

"Loran, please."

The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

 A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue. 

Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.

Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...

connected with this post!

[goodbyeapathy8]

I need people to stop glorifying the 4B movement in Korea, from a Western (white) perspective. Stop it. If you are blissfully unaware of this (having not been on TikTok) - in theory, it makes sense. No sex with men, no dating men, no child rearing with men, and no marriage with men. But. BUT. Feminists in Korea are problematic AF. I know this from both personal experience (having been on the receiving end of their ire online) and everything I've read about them, in Korean. I see all these white TikTokers (and even some in the Korean diaspora) fawning over how "we" in the US need this and, no. If your feminism is transphobic, hates gay men, hates men in general, that's not the feminism I'd endorse. Why is Korean feminism transphobic? In 2020, Korean feminists ACTIVELY CAMPAIGNED AGAINST a woman who was accepted to Sookmyung University. An all womens' university. But she was a woman, you say. What could be their problem? According to Korean feminists, they didn't want a "man" in their space. Because she is a trans woman. This is not unusual for Korean feminists. Having lived there for 5 years, to some extent, I understand their anger against misogyny. But if you are truly against the toxic patriarchy that exists in Korea, you must also help dismantle military conscription because that is where a lot of men become radicalized, bullied, etc etc and "grow up" to be the most toxic form of men seen on this earth. But Korean feminists don't give AF about that and in fact, I've read a lot of them express that it's good for men to suffer. Guess what? That view is internalized misogyny and toxic patriarchy, too. And I don't want to hear it about the movement being so "young". Korean women have stepped up to the plate before in our history. We are capable of better than this fucking nonsense. It's a bunch of transphobic, gay hating radicals that have hijacked what was supposed to be about social justice. WOMAD (link is to the Wikipedia article, not their site) and Megalia are the two sites they stem from. It is the most toxic group of people I've ever had the displeasure to encounter online. Any form of criticism is, at best, ignored and worst - I've been "called out" for being Korean-American, and therefore, to "butt out" of "Korean issues". Amongst other bullying I've personally received. And yes, not just on forums but on public articles that I've commented on.

I know it's a catchy title and it appeals in theory but please, please do not glorify these transphobes and TERFs. They don't deserve your attention.

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin