#you spend several years of your life as a fucking shape and then one day you're just some dude again. extremely jarring

[i3utterflyeffect]

to be clear: this is the average selkie growth chart

this is what happened to alan

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Mercs proposing hc?? So basic but Im literally one corny mf

The TF2 Mercs proposing to their partners

WARNING: Mild gore gifts because this is the Mercs we’re talking about here.

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Scout:

- Biggest panic attack of his fucking life. Has no idea how to function like a normal human being anymore. It was that feeling of being in love with somebody all over again and needing to tell them. What’s worse about this though is that marriage is a huge commitment. One that many aren’t ready for yet. What if you reject him and he messes this relationship up?

- Goes to Spy for comfort. In all honesty he’s just a very damaged little boy on the inside and scared that he is incapable of receiving unconditional love. The other Mercs catch him behind the base crying into Spy’s shoulder on the curb while Spy holds him. He’s telling Spy how much he loves you; and how terrified he is that you cannot return that same vow. Spy knows the feeling. “Shh, mon lapin.” Boy howdy Spy’s certainly grateful that Scout’s mom didn’t teach him a word of french.

- Spy has to shove Scout into your room to actually finally get him to do it. “Your idiot boyfriend has a few words for you, and apparently I have to be present or i’m certain he’ll break down crying again.” He says to you. While poor Scout curls up into a ball on the floor.

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Soldier:

- First of all, why him? Second of all, this is the type of guy to go all out and spend half the money he earned in mercenary work to get one of those “will you marry me Y/N?” banners hooked up to a plane. Complete with the pilot being ejected and the plane crashing nose first into a rock formation. Apparently that was 100% intentional because a bunch of confetti came out of the explosion. You don’t know if you should be horrified at the audacity, or head over heels.

- Brings you an entire necklace of ears. But that’s not all! For limited time only you can get one of soldiers’ severed heads that was purposely boiled and skull cut into the shape of a helmet! Great, right? “Wow, what type of animal is this?” You ask. “A DOG. PACKAGED WITH PURE, NO ARTIFICIAL FLAVOR, PASTEURIZED AMERICAN GLORY!” well that’s not reassuring. “OOOHH SAAAAY CAAAAN YOU SEEE—“ Soldier immediately gets hit over the head by Heavy and knocked unconscious.

- After the initial silliness dies down you see adoration as you tend to his awful head wound. Maybe Heavy knocked the stupidity out of him? No. He’s still insane. Soldier grabs your wrist as you apply alcohol to his wound and squeezes your hand. “Somebody like me doesn’t deserve somebody like you.” He says. “Bullshit, Soldier.” You say, leaning in for a kiss.

—————————————————————————

Demoman:

- He can only achieve this when drunk off his mind. Not to mention it arrives in the most unromantic way possible. But it doesn’t make you love him any less. He holds you close to him after a New Years party at the base and pats your back. “Jus’ so you know, you’d look mighty fine with a ring on your finger.” He flirts, getting incredibly physically affectionate. He makes sure never to cross your boundaries.

- “Me mum would kill me but fuck all. y’know? Old wench’s days are numbered anywae. We could live ina nice cottage by the sea.. If ya want wee lil’ bastards I’ll actually take care of em. I’d have to stop me drinkin tho.” He says, pecking your neck. His remaining eye is pleading with you to say yes. “Pleaaase?”

- Has no recollection of these events in the morning so imagine his dumbfounded expression when one of the Mercs asks about his new fiancé. Cue the embarrassment mixed with pride and excitement.

—————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Will 100% go to your window in the dead of night and sing a song for you on his guitar. Particularly I imagine this would be the contender. You have no idea this is even a marriage proposal. You just think he’s being incredibly sappy. Imagine the surprise while mid song he pulls out a small box and throws it up and down recklessly like a baseball. You’re slowly beginning to catch on as he opens it with his free fingers after finishing the song.

- Complete overconfident show off. He pep-talked himself before all this and rehearsed his performance repeatedly. By using the wrangler and effortlessly throwing the box up in the air and propelling it forward with a single bullet, the sentry successfully aided in getting the box up to you. You don’t even know how you managed to catch it, to be honest.

- Tips his hardhat to you. “Whadda say? Marry me?” He can barely contain his smile. Both excited and somewhat relieved he pulled that off.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- “Heavy made you dead person crown..” He walks into your room one day and puts it on your head. It’s a bunch of severed ears meant to resemble a flower crown. “Hey, thanks big guy.” You’re grateful for the gift, being a crazed Merc yourself is it really any surprise? You give him a huge kiss on the cheek. Heavy looks thrilled that you accepted his gift. Which is very much unlike him. Usually he’s reserved. Maybe he’s just having a good day?

- Well.. you eventually find out why. That was apparently his way of proposing to you. Soldier nudges you the next morning and teases you for being engaged to Heavy. You’re horrified to say the least. You had no idea this meant marriage. Not that you wouldn’t marry him. But what about his gun Sasha? Wouldn’t she feel jealous? You’ve been with Heavy so long you keep referring to that damn thing as a person.

- Immediately upon seeing you; goes up to you and gives you a list of stuff he wants at this wedding. There’s even a blank page for you to write your own needs. He seems oddly motivated to plan this out months before it actually happens. There is countless mentions of Russian authors he wants to attend the wedding. As if they’d ever consider going to a stranger’s wedding. “If they won’t come then Heavy will crush them..” He says. Same goes for your guests.

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Pyro:

- Wow.. Kind of the most normal out of all of them. For the most part. If TF2 took place in modern day they’d propose with a ringpop but all they have is a bag of candy and an actual ring (That they may or may not have stolen from someone in Tuefort.)

- They get on their knees and offer the ring to you in an extremely professional manner. It’s quite surreal to see Pyro pull off something so domestic and normal when he’s always destroying stuff with fire. In fact this is a little too normal.. This is Team Fortress we’re talking about here. Shouldn’t something be wacky happening right about now? It’s like the perfect opening for slapstick. Through your cries of love and laughter you begin to feel anxious at the back of your head.

- Yup.. There it is. Pyro tells you that Scout offered to be the ‘Ring bear’ for the wedding. There’s Scout dressed up in a cutesy teddy bear costume. You’re certain that’s not how it works. “Just for the record, if you tell anybody about this, I’ll fuckin’ saw off both your knees boston sandwich style. Capeesh?” He says. You have no idea what that means so you quickly agree.

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Sniper:

- Afraid he’s going to mess it up, much like Scout. Gets incredibly physically ill as a result from stress and isolates himself in his camper van. You’re convinced he wants to tell you something but you have no idea what it is. One day on the frontlines an arrow narrowly misses your face and embeds itself into the wall next to you. You were about to turn around and bombard Sniper until you saw the note attached to it. “Pardon, Will you marry me? -Sniper.” With a very worried sad face drawn next to the note. He even bothered to draw his hat on it.

- Disbelief clouds your face at first. Sniper? Marry another Merc? You’re in shock. This isn’t something you’d ever suspect from a guy like him. But your initial thought makes way for an uncontrollable smile.

- He literally will not approach you first after this. You have to knock on his camper van because god knows he won’t be even able to face his team for months. As you jump into his arms and kiss him he immediately pulls you inside to love on you in private.

———————————————————————-

Medic:

- WOULD RATHER SHOOT HIMSELF

- Just kidding. But he wishes he were dead right now. How could he do something so… Un-mad-sciencey? Marriage is just a concept brought upon by money hungry people. It only exists within the mind… Yet, that’s how he feels. An eternal vow to you is something he wishes to do. He’s already planned to make you a god alongside him once the time came so you could be his beloved consort forever. It reminded him of the greek story of soulmates.

- Gets a little fruitier than usual. The most feminine moan you ever heard left this man’s body as you brushed against him while trying to help him grab a syringe he dropped. This man gets unusually hornier and that’s how you know something’s up.. “Looking up my skirt, I see!” He says, as you glance up his long lab coat. There isn’t anything there but his pants so you roll your eyes. “Ah yes.. “ You respond. You decide he’s just clingy and horny as usual and carry about your assistance. You’re not in the mood for that. He never even bottoms so he’s feigning it anyway.

- “Err—Uh— Ho! Wouldn’t it be just shameful if I knew what was going on inside your head?” He asks. “Alright, i’ll bite. What are you saying, Doc?” You sigh. He fixes his glasses back up on his face thoughtfully. “One body, one mind. That would be quite intriguing don’t you think? If we were to.. Become one.” He placed an odd amount of emphasis on that, as if the thought was simply music to his ears. Lord he’s creepy. Medic grabs you and holds you close to him. “Think of the possibilities. We’d never be lonely again. I could stitch our bodies together and we could feel each other’s essence. Forever.”

- “Medic, you good?” You ask. Although his words were strangely flattering nonetheless in their own way. You smile at him. He seems to be lost in the idea. Fantasies of being with you for eternity flood his head. Particularly ones where you’re both a weird hybrid god. Weirdest marriage proposal world record goes to Medic.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- No, no no no no no. He can’t do this again. Marriage never worked out for him. After losing Scout’s mom and many partners that followed, he couldn’t bare hurting somebody like that again. His job always got in the way of what he truly desired but he had to live with it. This life chose him after all. His hand was forced into this position. Seeing your bright smile for the rest of his days was all he ever wanted. His urges to get up and say something to you were too strong.

- Has to metaphorically slap himself in the face and remind himself to act like a fucking adult. He wasn’t a little rambunctious teenager in Paris anymore. Yet he felt like one whenever he saw you. Such boyish feelings for an old put together gentleman like him. Spy decided to trust you and himself. But if something went wrong he wouldn’t hesitate to jump off a fucking cliff. Spy would stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for hours and contemplate his decision before making it.

- He proposes to you under a starry moonlit night. Not even bothering to kneel down, he slides the box across the balcony to you. “Well?” he asks, taking a long drag of his cigarette. His eyes fixated on the horizon. “Do I have to say it?” He asks. “Yes..” You tell him. Your eyes gleaming with joy. You never felt happier in your entire life. “Fine.. Will you marry m—“ He couldn’t even finish before you jump on him, ultimately knocking you both down.

[freak-accident419]

Double Derek

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You spend time with your boyfriend, Derek, before he would leave for a week-long business trip away from home. As a joke, you propose that you should purchase a ‘Clone a Willy’ kit, in case you miss him during his absence. But Derek wasn’t truly against the idea.

Word Count: 4.3k

Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, mentions of sex toys (they’re literally making one), raunchiness, slightly OOC Derek, too many damn time skips, more plot than porn, the silliness is more prominent in the beginning but not so much the smut, penetration (unspecified genitals for reader)

(A/n: thankyou thankyou so much to @g0ry0re0 for proofreading, you are literally a lifesaver ilysm. thank you for everyone’s support and anticipation for this fic, you all keep me going ❤️ enjoy!!)

-

“Uhh… ‘CBD-infused intimate oil,’” Derek reads off the box in a curious mutter, turning it around to examine the product and its written features. Then he looked at you with a knowing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, chuckling under your breath as you watched the imminent purchase remain inside of your boyfriend’s grasp.

You and Derek, since being in a relationship of nearly three years, had always found several ways to spice things up in your sex life. The two of you experimented with almost everything in the book, be it edging, near exhibitionism, toys, food play, etc. And of course, while romantic relationships overall meant way more than just the sex, your sex life with him was just too incredible to ignore. Jesus, you could go on and on for days about how amazing the sex was.

Therefore, it wasn’t unusual at all to find the two of you inside of an adult store. Sure, you mostly bought your things online, but since you two were already out and the shop was nearby, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to go in. Plus, the other times you went to the in-person stores were quite beneficial; you were able to see certain sizings of different products and got the necessary and helpful advice from the clerks there.

You and Derek had continued to browse through the raunchy products as you walked down each aisle together. And while the two of you were almost in your thirties, absolutely nothing could deter you two from giggling at some of the ridiculous things sold there. This time, however, you suddenly stopped in your tracks and opened your mouth in complete awe once your eyes had laid upon it.

“Holy fucking shit!” You blurted as you instantly grabbed the tube-shaped box from the shelf in front of you:

‘(GLOW IN THE DARK) CLONE-A-WILLY: THE IN-HOME PENIS MOLDING KIT

MAKE A VIBRATING SILICONE REPLICA OF ANY PENIS (EASY TO MAKE)’

“Is this actually—?” Derek nearly snatches it from you with a fascinated scoff, reading over the description on the packaging. “What the fuck? Do—do people actually do this?”

“Of course they do, I see them, like, everywhere!” You cackled, trying to steal back the box from his grasp. It wasn’t the first time you’ve ever seen it, but it does surprise you every damn time that you do.

“Okay, okay, so… So if I’m getting this right, you could basically make an entire fuckin’ dildo at home… by molding somebody else’s or your own dick?” He raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you wheeze, nodding at him until your smile grew wider in sudden realization. “Shit, baby, you’d take ‘go fuck yourself’s to a whole new level!”

“What the hell, Y/n?” He chuckled, trying not to burst out into any more insufferable laughter, “okay, first of all, who would—Why the fuck would I want to use a replica of my own fucking dick on myself? Like, if anything, it’s you who should be taking it.”

“Hey, you can’t just say that!” You hissed playfully, still smiling from the entire situation you found yourselves in. Suddenly, however, your eyes widened insightfully from an absurd epiphany you just had.

“Wait,” you began. “I mean… You do have a point, considering that your trip is coming up already… Holy shit, imagine that! While you’re going to be gone for a whole fuckin’ week, I could always use this weird clone shit on myself whenever I’m horny! Hell, it’s perfect since you’ve been going to so many business trips lately!” You joked exuberantly before letting out a delighted sigh. “Jesus, baby, this is so ridiculous…”

Chuckling to yourself, you placed the box back on the shelf, prompting a perplexed gaze from Derek—or rather, as he stared at it, a gaze of deep contemplation. You recognized this damn shit-faced look of his. After all, you’ve known him for years.

“Derek—” you began skeptically.

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” he interjects with a thoughtful finger to his chin before a sudden and mischievous smirk appears at his lips. “You know, that actually isn’t a bad idea.”

Completely dumbfounded and taken aback, you raised a suspecting eyebrow. “Wait. You’re not actually considering… I mean, I was just joking around earlier, I wasn’t actually being serious—”

“I know, but think about it, babe! I mean, hell, you even said it yourself! Every time you feel… needy while I’m out, especially on my long business trips, you could always, well… you know,” he grinned darkly, glancing toward the ridiculous sex toy, “and if you want, I could even call you while you—”

“Shush!” You hissed with a slight laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re actually turned on by this freaky shit, aren’t you?!” It was actually quite hypocritical of you to call him out like that, as you tried to push your own feelings of arousal to the side. “I mean, I’d be down, but… Are you actually being for real right now?”

He scoffs at your remarks, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I mean… I’d be lying if I said that the thought of you being that desperate for my cock wouldn’t turn me on.”

“Really? You’re kidding.” You gasp in utter disbelief. Frankly, you never would’ve expected Derek to be into this kind of stuff, even knowing firsthand that he could be pretty extreme. It was most likely the fact that it was a ‘penis molding kit’ that caught you off guard when your boyfriend genuinely considered it. “You’re actually—Because like, while I was joking, you know, I actually still wanted to get it, but I didn’t know if you were down, or—”

“Babe, this might be the weirdest yet sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever thought of us doing. Of course I’m down.”

***

After bringing home the very ‘unique’ product the two of you purchased from the adult store, you and Derek had set up in the spacious kitchen of his (which was technically yours too, since you practically lived with him now). With all of your necessary supplies laid out on the counter as well as the kit’s included materials, you made it to the fifth step together. The counter’s surface was crowded with measuring cups, bowls, and the other required items as Derek’s lower half had been completely naked to prepare for the molding process. He was actually already jerking off vacantly, a cock ring against the base of his dick to keep him as hard as he could be for the mold.

“Oh my god, I can’t stop thinking about that,” you chuckle as you began to stir the mix of water with the kit’s included molding powder. “That was so fucking hilarious!”

“You’d think that—” Derek scoffs in amusement, practically interrupting himself. “When the cashier said I looked familiar, you’d think that she would’ve mentioned Danforth Enterprises or, hell, even my mom, right? But she thought—she fucking said—”

“Robby Apples!” You nearly cackle, continuing to mix the bowl’s contents after setting a timer for a minute, “She thought you were a fuckin’ porn star!”

“I—” he scoffs with a wide, amused grin on his lips, “Personally? I don’t see it. I don’t think we look alike, like, at all.”

“Right, right,” you chuckle softly, “but it’s the hair. It’s the hair, baby! The curls and stupid frosted tips, I bet that’s why she assumed that!”

“I mean, yeah, but Y/n… I’m way more famous than him. Like, I’m literally CEO of my company—hell, my mother is the President of the United fucking States! Like, how the hell do you mistake me for someone else?! Let alone a fucking porn star!” Derek huffs playfully, surprisingly not too offended by the mix-up. Usually his ego would be heavily bruised whenever someone didn’t recognize him immediately, but he was having way too much fun with you to even be serious about it. And you loved it.

“But, like…” you began with a slight smile, “to be fair, babe, she works at that sex shop. Her mind must be porn over politics.”

“Hey, just because she works at a sex shop doesn’t mean she’s a porn addict.” Derek then raises an eyebrow as he attempts to call you out, “Now that’s just assuming, isn’t it?”

You scowled, yet a small smirk still creeped upon your lips. “You’re talking to me about assuming? You’re—You say that as if you’re not the most judgmental asshole in the fucking world.”

“Ugh, fair point,” Derek shrugged in acceptance and self-awareness, not even bothering to argue because he knew you were right. Then, he paused thoughtfully. “That is a great slogan, though.”

“What, about assumptions?”

“No, ‘porn over politics.’”

“Oh, yes,” you nod with a hint of sarcasm, “The epitome of Derek Danforth.”

“Uh, no,” he scoffs quickly, “money and superiority is the epitome of Derek Danforth.”

You paused with a grimace on your face. “You did not just refer to yourself in the third person.”

“Wh—You do it all the time!” He exclaims.

“Uh, yeah,” you scoff, “ironically!”

Somehow, you didn’t notice until now that Derek was holding his phone in his hand, looking at the screen as he continued to stroke himself to sustain his erection. “Hey, what are you looking at, by the way?”

His eyes went up to you with an innocent, neutral expression. “Uhhh, your nudes.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” you chuckle.

“Uh, no,” he says, turning his phone around in an attempt to show you. “I’m literally going through them right now—”

“No, ew, don’t show me!” You laugh from embarrassment as you looked down at the mixing bowl you stirred, covering the peripheral view with your hand. As sexy as they were to Derek and to you during the time you were taking them, you really couldn’t take them seriously afterwards.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, babe,” he teases knowingly, making you roll your eyes. “You look so hot in them.”

“Dude—Of course I’m fucking embarrassed!” You reasoned, “I thought it was hot until the post-nut fuckin’ clarity kicked in!”

Suddenly, the timer went off as the two of you laughed softly at your last comment. You were then prompted to instantly focus as you turned off the blaring alarm and grabbed the tube closer to yourself on the counter.

“You fully hard, baby?” You ask casually, beginning to pour the white mixture inside of the tube.

“Yup,” he nodded simply, watching you prepare for the molding process.

After you finished pouring in all of the thick molding substance, you grabbed the tube and walked closer to your boyfriend. “Okay, so we’re just molding your dick now, for like, two… two minutes, I think? And you’re just gonna have to stay hard like that and don’t move too much,” you giggle, “I have to act fast, though, because there’s a reason why the water had to be ninety degrees, alright?”

“Alright,” Derek chuckles, “go ahead, babe.”

After setting up a two minute timer on your phone, you slowly placed the tube full of the ‘molding gel’ over his dick, making some of the white, thick substance drip out onto the floor. The two of you already began to cackle, Derek groaning in slight disgust from the weird feeling that the texture of the paste gave him around his cock.

“This is really fuckin’ messy,” he raises an eyebrow as he watches the leftover mixture spill onto the smooth, quartz tiles of the kitchen floor. “And it feels really… really weird around my dick,” Derek laughs softly.

“Well, we were warned about the mess but… damn, I didn’t know it’d be this crazy,” you chuckle, holding the tube in place, allowing you to stand close to Derek’s naked body. “Also, I know what you’re thinking—You’re not allowed to make a joke about how the molding gel resembles your fucking jizz.” Derek frowns immediately as you giggle at his reaction.

Rolling your eyes, you lean in closer to your lover, placing some soft kisses on his bare shoulder and collarbone. You always believed that Derek’s body was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but show him how much you loved it all the time. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that?” You mumble with your lips pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Me too, baby,” he sighs softly, “but I’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

“I’m gonna fuck myself so fucking hard with this weird ass thing when you’re gone.”

“Sorry,” you mumble afterwards, realizing what you had blurted caused Derek to become speechless.

Your filthy words had been delivered so bluntly and casually, gaining a low groan from Derek’s throat. “Fuck. You can’t just—Baby, please tell me you’ll get me off after we do this because, fuck, I’ve been so hard for so fucking long and you’re already making things worse with that kind of talk,” he complains, nearly pleading.

“Jeez, I said I was sorry...” Chuckling, you bury your face in his neck affectionately. “Don’t worry, babe, we have so much time after this. You can fuck me as hard as you want.”

“Fuck…” he moaned at the visual you gave him with your words.

Resting your lips contently in the crook of his neck, you let out a small snicker afterwards. “Dude, I can’t get that stupid fucking meme out of my head…”

“What meme?” Derek asked curiously, no longer focusing solely on his arousal he had for you.

“The fuckin’—Your mom, the Jessica Danforth one that they would—”

“Oh, my god,” he scoffs lightly with a smile, amused by recollection of a popular, new internet meme they made of the US President. “But that one is so fucking stupid.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s iconic because your mom is iconic,” you retort playfully, “and those ‘stupid’ memes ended up being genuine, effective marketing strategies towards her campaign.”

Honestly, it was kind of adorable to Derek that you thought that lousy, new generation memes of her was what mainly helped his mother’s campaign. It was less adorable, however, that it wasn’t really the case. If only you knew…

You leaned in, briefly connecting your soft lips with his, appreciating the intimacy of your closeness that this position bestowed upon the two of you. Your kiss had pushed his underlying guilt aside for now, melting in the short moment of sweetness.

“Hey, when can I get this thing off of me?” He asks suddenly once your lips had parted from each other.

You pursed your lips curiously. “Uhh, well, is it hard yet?”

“Baby, my dick has been hard the entire time for this, you know that.”

“No, I meant—” you giggled breathlessly, “I meant the molding gel, has it hardened yet?”

“Well, it feels like it, sort of,” he remarked with a shrug.

“Eh, we can just wait for the full two minutes,” you suggested, prompting that you both should wait until the timer ends.

Soon enough, the two of you had gone through the entire procedure. You removed the tube from Derek’s cock, placing it on the counter as you mixed the silicone packets together to pour that mixture into the mold. Then, you placed the included vibrator inside the tube through the hole of a cardboard cover that rested on the top of the rim to keep it from sinking completely down into the mold.

“We are… done,” you laugh softly, the two of you looking at the tube filled with liquid silicone, most certainly taking the form of Derek’s dick. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but we are going to have to wait, like, twenty-four hours until we can take it out of the mold.”

“Well, shit. I am actually both fucking terrified and excited to see how it’ll end up looking like,” he shrugs with a slight scoff.

“Your dick, but in a glow-in-the-dark green,” you reply with a simple nod. “So… What now?”

A thoughtful yet mischievous grin appears on Derek’s lips as his eyes trail hungrily over your body.

After eagerly stripping your pants and underwear down, Derek lifted you up on the edge of the kitchen table, lips never leaving yours as he kissed you deeply and passionately. He grabbed onto your thigh, lightly gasping at the rough grip as his other hand slipped under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your back. Derek actually used the hemp oil that you two purchased earlier (alongside the Clone-A-Willy), rubbing it over your sensitive groin, then pleasurably lubricating your entrance. “God, I need you so bad, baby,” he mumbles lustfully, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the counter to line himself up with you.

A soft, yet vocal moan escaped your lips as you feel his rock hard, throbbing cock stretching and pushing through your tight, needy hole. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Derek grunts, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with lust and admiration. And from this heavenly sensation, you had been reminded that he still had that cock ring on.

You giggled immaturely, “you know, I forgot you even had that o—” He moved both his hands to spread open your thighs, trailing back up to grip your hips as he began to slowly thrust inside of you, making you whine as you placed your hands on his shoulders. “D-Derek—” You choke out a moan as he gradually increases his pace, firmly pushing his hips against yours to get as deep inside of you as he could. His cock was so fucking hard, indisputably caused by the pressure of the ring, but also from how much your sole body turned him on.

The two of your moans echoed in the atmosphere of the kitchen, especially as you wrapped your legs tightly around his back, pushing him in even deeper. “Fuck,” you whined softly, feeling one of his hands trail under the back of your shirt again during each heavy thrust until he finally lifts it off of you, throwing the piece of fabric onto the floor.

Your insides had deliciously gripped Derek’s firm cock so tight, withdrawing a low, prolonged groan from his throat as he then picked up the pace. He pounded deeply into you, head hanging low as he focused on his hard thrusts.

“Shit!” You nearly cry, wrapping your arms around his neck as you started to feel more sensitive. “You’re so fucking hard, hell…”

“Am I usually not?” He teases with a smirk, not ceasing his movements anytime soon.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” you panted breathlessly. “The fucking cock ring’s, like, making you even harder than you ever been. I can’t believe this only, like, the second time we’ve ever used it.”

“Are you implying that we should use it more?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Hell, yeah,” you replied with a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Derek groans, hiding his face in your neck, briefly nipping at your flesh. “Fucking love how tight you feel around my fucking cock.”

You moaned at his sultry words, your arms leaving his neck and holding yourself up with your palms flat on the counter behind you, attempting to grind against his movements. “Fuuuck,” you mumble as your palms shifted behind you, nudging and almost knocking down the Clone-A-Willy tube that was still filled with un-solidified silicone. “Oh, shit!” Gasping in a short panic, you held it steady before it could fall and moved it away to the side.

“Jesus, babe, you almost spilled over my dick,” he scoffs with a chuckle, his thrusts slightly sloppy from this distraction.

“Oh, I’ll spill something over your dick, babe,” you joked swiftly with a playful smirk.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking terrible,” he groaned as a mere, amused smile formed at his lips.

“Shut up, I’m not the one who got mistaken for a porn star,” you retorted, flashing a teasing grin.

“God, never fucking bring that up again,” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I will, baby, I will so use it against you,” you claim humorously.

Suddenly, he lifts you up by your ass, away from the counter as he was still pressed deeply inside of you. Holding you up against him in the center of the kitchen floor, he thrusted up inside of you, creating a strong wave of pleasure throughout your entire being.

“Fuck!” You cried as his fingernails dig into the skin of your ass, pushing his cock in and out of your sensitive hole. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, babe, you might not be a porn star, but you sure as hell fuck like one, shit…” The harsh sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed lewdly in the kitchen as he continued holding you up, and even guiding and pushing your hips skillfully against his.

Finally, he brought the two of you over on a chair, sitting down against it as you were positioned on top, his dick completely inside of you. “Ride me, baby,” he mutters, cupping your face gently, yet pulling you in urgently for a deep, wet kiss, shoving his tongue through your lips.

Breaking the kiss, Derek’s hands explored and caressed the warm, smooth skin of your body, muttering lustful praises to you. This prompted you to begin moving, placing your hands on his shoulders as your hips would gently grind against his. “Mmm,” you hum softly in pleasure before your head is thrown back the moment you increase your pace.

You let your knees assist you in bouncing on his thick cock, feeling his arms being wrapped around your back tightly to bring you in closely and intimately. “Fuck, baby…” Derek huffs, attempting to move his hips up with yours.

This position was short-lived, however, because of Derek’s urgency to fuck you fast and properly, lifting you back up once again. He made out with you as he held you, kissing your lips roughly and hotly while we stumbled towards the living room to finally throw you down on the couch.

He immediately grabbed your legs, lifting them up to place your ankles over his shoulders, nipping softly at your legs in admiration before thrusting back in.

“Fuck!” He groans, moving his hips at a much rougher and faster rate, practically pounding into you with both lust and love.

“Shit, Derek!” You whimper, feeling his cock slide in and out of you so fluidly, stretching and caressing your sensitive walls. From all the buildup of the previous positions, you felt so close already. “Fuck, baby. I—I’m gonna cum—”

“Just—fuck—hold on a little longer, baby,” he mutters, ramming his dick inside of you without faltering, focusing on driving the both of you to the very edge.

“Baby…” You whined desperately, looking up at him as you felt yourself begin to clench around him. And that really did it for him.

“Fuuuck,” Derek moaned, his movements against you beginning to stagger, “Cum for me, baby, c’mon.”

A loud, whiny moan escaped your lips as your back arched up against him, tensing up as you finally released. Your tight, fleshy walls around Derek prompted him to come right after, spilling his warm, white semen deep inside of you, muttering a few curse words before collapsing on top of you.

The both of you panted heavily, struggling to catch your breaths as you felt each other’s sweaty, naked body against one another’s. You chuckle breathlessly, feeling so content from the overwhelming ecstasy that your orgasm bestowed upon yourself.

“So good,” Derek whispered, kissing your lips in a sloppy, lazy manner, “you did so good for me, sweetheart.”

***

“What in… the actual fuck.”

The next day, after it had been exactly 24 hours since you’ve poured in the silicone inside of the mold, you and Derek took it out, revealing his glow-in-the-dark, cloned dick.

The two of you looked down at the new dildo, then looked at each other before cackling loudly and heartily, your laughs echoing in the kitchen where you had done the reveal.

“Oh, my god, it looks—it looks exactly fucking like it, babe!” You exclaim in disbelief, nearly wheezing as you hold the light green, phallic object in your grasp.

“That is,” he began, trying to recover from his previous, hearty laughter, “fucking insane. It’s so uncanny, like… it looks so real.”

“Dude, look at all the detail!” You urged, small snickers escaping your throat, “like even the veins and the fucking—what—frenulum, like… What the hell?!”

“And it’s such a bright ass neon green, holy shit,” Derek chuckled, continuing to examine the silicone.

“Hey, it matches your entire vibe, at least. You know. Green. Money. Ehh?”

The two of you giggled childishly, enjoying the absolute absurdity of this entire situation. “God, only you, Y/n, could get me to do the stupidest fucking things that I would never be willing to do for, like, anybody else,” Derek remarked with a slight smile.

”Hey, you were up for it too,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “I was joking about it first, but you were the one who took it seriously!”

“Uh, you were the one who grabbed it first,” retorted Derek.

“And you were the one who took it seriously when I was joking,” you repeated, chuckling softly in amusement.

“I—” But before he could say anything, he realized that you were right. “God fucking dammit.”

***

Tomorrow, Derek would have left for the business trip, the two of you saying your goodbyes before he would disappear into his private jet. And the day after, as your lover stayed at a luxurious hotel, lounging comfortably on the bed, he received a few texts from you during the night:

Y/n: hey

Y/n: it actually does glow in the dark btw

Y/n: [sent an attachment]

Derek’s eyes widened instantly, jaw dropping at the sight of the diabolically lewd image you had just sent him. Including the familiar, bright green item in the frame, of course.

“Holy fu—”

[hana-no-seiiki]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐂! [ 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 ] 𝐱 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏! 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

— [ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ] ( full drawing at the end of post )

𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌. This was the norm with idols. Nothing was wrong with such a premise you surmised, as only fools would believe their idols act the same on camera and behind. It was simple. They had an image and a personality, two completely different things in the entertainment world.

Hayate’s image was this brash, straight to the point, no nonsense person. A man who did not care much about looks, but was completely devoted to the art of music. A startling contrast to his angel like singing voice. Gap Moe, as his fans and manager would put it.

Hayate’s personality behind the cameras however, is what you would say an almost complete one-eighty.

The bi-colored haired boy was total skincare fanatic, he loved fashion, planning out his looks, journaling, and working out for the sake of keeping his body in shape. You say almost because he was incredulously meticulous either-way. You never met a man who was so passionate that it often infected you to do the same in your career and life. He enjoyed idol-work, breathed it, and deserved every bit of success he’d gotten so far.

He was also, still brash even behind the scenes.

“Why the hell would you be jealous of me?” To many, Hayate’s voice was intimidating — rough, and quite loud. It was jarring to see him switching from his speaking one to his singing. But to you who had spend far too long with this man, it was normal. And sometimes normal was something to crave for.

And boy did Hayate enjoy those normal moments between you two.

“Hayate, who wouldn’t be jealous of a man whose group had won several awards in their rookie years, now topping every chart.”

“A complete All-Kill, innit?” Your co-worker spoke from a couple of feet away. He was in charge of styling Hayate’s mess of a hair. The two of you are the only people capable of being physically close to him, aside from his members without being mauled. And you mean mauled in every sense of the term.

“Besides that, you’re just so motivated all the time. It’s like you have endless energy to do what you have to do.”

You noticed Hayate visibly relax, his tense posture almost escaping your eyes earlier. You make a mental note to bring him out to rest again one day. Most likely after your pay-day. Hayate always offered to pay for stuff you two bought on an outing but you just couldn’t do him like that.

Your co-worker chimed in again, “Meanwhile [Y/N] is here downing several [Fave Caffeinated Drink] just to get through the day.”

“Why are you here again?” You and Hayate deadpanned in sync, earning a laugh from all three of you in the room.

“I just . . . have a good. . . source of motivation.” The singer gave you a heavy, alluring stare. His muscle tee allowing you to view his neck slowly turning scarlet.

“He’s all red.”

“Fuck, I completely forgot to blend his neck! Wait, where’s my foundation brush?!” You screeched, running out to find wherever it could have gotten to in the building, knowing you most likely forgot it in the another member’s room. Either completely unaware of Hayate’s intense look, or simply too dense to understand the connotation of it.

Your colleague snorted as the door closed behind you, “You’re going to have to be more obvious than that lover boy, they’re worse than a brick wall.”

“. . .”

“Not even a sure, mate?” The British man sighed. It was always like this. Whenever you were out Hayate would just go silent. Only ever speaking to direct the stylist’s actions. You always insisted that your client saw you two as equal as you’ve never witnessed him acting this way, and every time the hair stylist spoke to you about it he could feel the menacing glare down his spine just provoking him to speak so that Hayate would pounce at an excuse to fire and sue him for defamation.

Once he was done styling the idol’s hair, Mr. Co-Worker backed off immediately. Knowing full well of the consequences of lingering around Hayate any longer.

“I’m back!” You hollered, a limp on your step due to a large man glomping you from behind.

“And who’s that behind you?” Your co-worker sighed. With you around his risk of dying goes down by at least 70%.

“Ehe.” But with Eve of all people to rile Hayate up, he’ll have to crank those chances back up again. The visual of the group had apparently stolen it earlier when he came by to do his daily dues in pushing Hayate one step further to an aneurysm. It was an important duty he had to fulfill as a member of Yesterday’s Dawn, and bringing you into the mix happened to annoy the vocalist the most.

“Don’t ehe me, Soo-bitch! Get the hell out of my make-up room!”

Eve smooches you on the cheek before promptly sticking his tongue out, “BLEGHHHHHH!!!”

You froze in response.

You see the veins protruding on Hayate’s temples and neck, reminding you of the job you came into the room to properly finish. Angry Hayate was something you haven’t seen in a while, but experienced has taught you not to react much and proceed with your job as if he isn’t planning several ways of mutilation at the moment.

It worked as moments later he calmed down and began chatting with you again.

Perhaps you should retract your judgment of his character. Hayate didn’t have sides he just had layers, and you his beloved make-up artist, were in the deepest one.

@yesterdaysdawnofficial just posted something! Check it out?

❤️ 💬 ✈️

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yesterdaysdawnofficial just two pretty bois uwu -eve

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yesterdayssleepfxker✅ nice.

yesterdaysfoodfxker✅ BLUDNDJDJ BLUR THE LOGO BLUR THE LOGO

yesterdaysbeauty ✅ there goes our sumsang sponsorship…

maniacforhayate AAAAAAAA OPPAR SaRANGhae

yesterdaysstan in this part of the ydjungle we see hayatus sasakus warding off one of his potential mates via hypnosis. completely uninterested.

_sanctuary_of_flowers_ *fanfic typing intensifies*

[ AUTHOR’S NOTE ]

Hayate was pretty much born from my weird obsession with working out and practicing the violin lately. My parents said that I look and sound hella constipated doing both and so an emotionally constipated yandere just came into mind.

also i “referenced” that one photo of jungkook holding a mirror to jimin’s meme face for this in case you thought the artwork looked familiar. tried using a new hair coloring style ehe.

UNEDITED

want more content like this? check my masterlist or the first few tags for more specific posts.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023. artworks, characters, and story belongs to me. please do not redistribute, repost, or translate without permission.

[faghubby]

7 YEAR STRETCH

Jen and i had been married for 7 years. We had a 5 year old daughter and 2 year old son. Our sex life was non exist. It consisted of me sitting on the toilet looking at my phone jerking off. This was what I did now. I mean I couldn't blame Jen with two kids all day it was hard to not be exhausted every night. I thought. After our son was born she wanted nothing to do with sex. Pushing me away even if I touched her. After awhile I stopped trying. Our sin would be two next week. It had been two years since we had sex. Jen had managed to get in better shape then she was before two kids. I often got hard just watching her get dressed.

"I am going out tonight with the girls so you got the kids" Jen told me Friday morning.

"No problem" I responded she always came home in much better mood after a girl's night out. Jen was already dressed when I came home.

"Wow, you look amazing" I told her.

"Now you notice" she said smug as she grabbed her keys and left. I fed and got the kids in bed. Then sat and watched some TV. But found myself scrolling thru my phone and quickly found myself on literotica reading cuckold stories. I almost wished Jen still liked sex. I would love to watch her take a big cock. I thought as I jerked off several times as I jerked off to the stories. I was in bed dead asleep by the time Jen came home. I woke with the kids the next morning letting Jen sleep. She got up around 11. The kids and I where outside playing in their little pool. I came in to grab a towel. And Jen was in a short robe making coffee. She made a wierd smile as I passed.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing just forgot" she said.

"Sorry forgot what?" I laughed

"Nothing forget it" she smiled and ran back out to dry off the kids. I got the kids inside and changed into dry clothes. I went to change out of my suit. Jen had returned to bed she was scrolling thru he phone. I pulled off my suit and went to grab so dry underwear when I caught Jen suppress her laugh.

"Did you shrink?" she spit out.

"Fuck you" I shot back.

"No, I do t think you even want me to" she shot back.

"What the hell does that mean?" I tried not to yell. She tossed the phone she had been scrolling thru my phone.

"Come here" Jen said pulling back the covers I realized she was naked. If I was mad at her I forgot why. I climbed on top of her.

"Wait" she said "I saw what you play with yourself to" she said her hands running down my back as she held my hardon between her thighs. "How long have you known?" She asked

"Known what?" I asked. Just wanting to fuck her.

"That I been cuckolding you of course" she replied.

"What?" I sputtered "who, how"

"Shh, it's okay. Now I know you like it" she moved her legs ever so slightly rubbing me between her thighs.

"Is your little pee pee all excited" she teased I was ready to cum already when I heard our daughter start crying. I didn't want to get up. But Jen stopped

"Better go check, I will be here when you come back" she told me. I rushed to get dressed and check on the kids. It took longer then I had wished to return. Jen was in the shower. I tried to join her

"We can finish our chat later" she told me. She got dressed and we spent the rest of the day shopping. She decided to discuss how she had been cuckolding me for over a year with several people I knew. While being cryptic in front of the kids. She explained it had started when I showed no interest in sleeping with her. She loved me but did not want to spend her life as a nun. So she found a lover. Then another, there had been six but two of them had been one time things. She explained. She was convinced I just didn't want sex. I had completely stopped even trying. Now she knew why after reading the stories I read. This kept me on edge all day. By the time we got home, got the kids feed battled and in bed it had been a soul searching day.

Jen invited me to join her in the bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Take your clothes off" she smiled. I quickly stripped. She remained fully clothed. She reached out and stroked me.

"The first time was Jack Rudolph" she told me. He was a member of our church. "I was volunteering with that carnival" she reminded me. "Jack gave me a ride home every night" she continued I did remember she was stroking me very slowly. "So I thought I should repay him" she told me. That was it I came hard all over her hand.

"Do you eat your own cum like in the story?" Jen asked offering me her hand. I nodded no.

"OH to bad that would be so hot" she told me. She washed her hand and we cuddled I was still naked while she remained clothed. We watched TV till I fell asleep.

I woke to Jen stroking me again.

"Wake up little one" she giggled in my ear. "I was thinking last night. I am willing to bring you back into my sex life under some conditions" she told me.

"Anything" I moaned.

"First I kinda like some of the things in the stories, to remind you of your place" she told me.

"So I would like you to shave and wear my panties whenever i am with a man" she told me. I nodded just wanting to cum.

"I also think you would like to know when I was with someone else so no more lying" she told me. I came again she seemed annoyed she wasn't done.

"And you will eat cum" she said out of frustration and pushed her cum covered fingers in my mouth. At first shocked but the taste wasn't bad. I found myself licking her fingers clean.

"I am going to enjoy this very much" Jen told me. She had me get up and get the kids ready for the day.

[clannfearrunt]

There is no way in hell im drawing a comic before Splatfest starts so team picks n thoughts for ppl:

Julie: Past - way too much has happened up till now to ignore. The events of the past 10 years shaped who she is today for better and for worse, and while some days she’d like to forget and leave it all behind, her current conclusion is that she needs to face it all head on both to remind herself of how she got here and to prevent the same cycle repeating again. They’ll keep one eye on the rearview mirror while they keep on driving to a better future, they suppose. They’ll make sure they’ll all get there together.

Cam: Present - everyone is giving them shit for this what the FUCK do you mean you’re not team Past, paleontology student?? Even your pop culture references are constantly several decades behind!! But they’re missing the point!! Both peering into the deep past and speculating on the distant future excites them more than anything, but the only place they can do that is now! The only time to put the knowledge of the past into action and lead it to the future is NOW, baby! You have to keep your feet planted so you don’t lose yourself in the vast stretches of deep time. Also their girlfriends aren’t in the fucking fossil record lmao

Lily: Future - she’s spent enough time peering into her past, and she’s got a good thing going in the present day now - and she’s so, SO excited about what’s next! She has all her friends and loved ones with her here, a welcoming home, she’s got a job she likes (update: she has a job)!! She’s got all the pieces lined up… So what’s next? Every night now she gets to go to sleep looking forward to the next day. And it’s wonderful!!

Thresher: Present - they’re not much for deep philosophizing. The only time you can do shit about anything is the present. You can’t waste too much time worrying about shit that’s done with, or paralyzed by what hasn’t happened yet. You take life one day at a time. You’ve only got one shot at it; the future will come on its own time.

Rill: Future - the past is, well, in the past, and while it might be worth referencing from time to time spending too much time looking back will only stunt your growth. The present is merely a stepping stone towards your future goals; there is only moving forward - to become complacent is to stagnate! If you meet a goal? Find a new one and keep marching on!!

Buddy: Future - well, they liked it when it rained and all the desert flowers and bugs and animals came to life. Thresher says it’s going to rain again next year, in the rainy season. And next year is in the future. And they’ll see the desert bloom again :)

[sadclowncentral]

now just who are you larping spinach cultists with.

while desperately trying to finish my essay on ecological futurism during a study session, i read in one book that research indicates that spinach can be used as a lithium substitute in batteries. upon sharing this with my study group, my equally academically exhausted and equally strange best friend asked a question that would shape the next three years and counting of our lives: "if spinach is the future of energy, why the fuck are we in college and not spinach farmers?"

this set in motion a frantic and procrastinating research on everything from spinach cultivation to farm lot prices, and in only a few hours the plan b of farming unfertilized spinach for battery production was cemented. the next day, when asked by our baffled friends why the fuck we were so obsessed with spinach all of a sudden i, with the unhinged hysteric energy that only severe sleep-deprivation mixed with energy drinks and the pressure of a deadline can bring, decided to summarize the previous evening with: "spinach is our beacon of hope." things escalated from there.

i have an entire wall in my apartment filled with art about spinach. there is a spinach mixtape, spinach clothing designs, and a spinach manifesto. for my last birthday, three people independently gifted me spinach seeds. me and the spinage (age of spinach) group meet every second monday to brainstorm new ways to spread the gospel. i spent three hours last night compiling satellite data images of the production site of a german spinach distributor and our enemy #1 (long story) to figure out their harvesting patterns. my real boss at work has asked about "my spinach thing" and i didn't even know where to begin explaining the motivational spinach poster i had put up in my office.

you know, i'm not even sure it is a joke anymore. apart from commiting to the bit with your friends being a joyful activity, spending my free time researching spinach and creating art about it genuinely makes me feel like there is a brighter future and helps relieve my anxiety about failure. should i get fired from my job, my life doesn't end - my life as a spinach farmer begins. by claiming spinach to be a beacon of hope, i spoke it into existence. the future is now, and it's leafy green and rich in nutrients. spinach forever

[farity]

Obsession, part 7

She saw it in the news, that the three brothers Grimm, the scourge of their city because of their lawlessness and recklessness, had been found by their own mother, in their own living room.

What wasn't in the news but around gossip sites, was the rest.

The bodies had been placed on the sofa, in the See No Evil, Hear no Evil, and Say no Evil poses, and at first Mama Grimm had laughed upon first seeing her sons. "The boys" she'd called them even though they were in their late twenties and had fathered various little Grimm bastards around the land.

Then she'd realized, seen the wounds, seen how they didn't breathe, and screamed loudly enough that several servants rushed in.

The police had taken one look and known there would be no fingerprints, no fibers, not a mote of evidence. Which told them exactly what had happened.

"A burglary?" Mama Grimm had yelled at the police chief. "Are you fucking joking?"

The man, old enough and wise enough to know what was what, nodded. "There is no evidence to point to anything else, Mrs. Grimm."

* * * * *

"Pyke?"

Your boss pinched the bridge of her nose. "We should open the office there within six months."

"I don't want to live in Pyke."

"No one wants to live in Pyke. Those living in fucking Pyke don't want to live in Pyke. But you'd be management. Up the ladder and all that."

You shook your head, "I don't want to be management. Management is synonymous with headaches. I like my job as it is."

She stared at you, mouth open in disbelief. "You can do that in your sleep. Monitoring shipments? How the fuck is that remotely interesting?"

You wanted to say that your job was a means to pay your bills and live your life. It didn't have to be fulfilling, it didn't have to be interesting. But you couldn't exactly say that. "It suits me, and I'm good at it."

"So you are officially refusing the offer?"

There was a threat now in her voice and you wanted to laugh at her. Fire me, you wanted to say, I'll live off unemployment.

You were not into spending every cent you made. Your savings account was healthy and your daily life was pretty modest, because you liked to splurge in traveling. If you got fired, you'd be fine for a year and you were sure you could find employment quickly enough.

"Yes, I am," you said as pleasantly as you could. "I have no interest in being a manager and even less in moving to Pyke."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You're the best candidate! Who the fuck is going to be able to handle everything?"

"Maybe you should have clued me in as to your plans before you decided to open a branch in Pyke."

"Go home. I don't want to see you the rest of the day."

"Fine. You're not taking one of my vacation days, though."

You walked out and grabbed your things before heading home. It was a gray, dreary day, and you decided to head home and take a luxurious daytime nap.

* * * * *

"She doesn't have her own security?"

Viserys leaned over, a smile on his face. "The fact that she is asking for a favor puts us in a good situation. She knows you're the best, and by making this public, she is making it known throughout the realm."

Aemond said nothing. He was wasting his time over some old woman who wanted a babysitter while she traveled to King's Landing? By car?

The car arrived and both men exited, walking silently up the rose-framed staircase. There was a woman standing there, who greeted them and led them inside to see the legendary Milena Tyrell.

"She will be with you in just a moment, if you need anything, just ring the bell."

The office was well appointed, the Tyrell sigil dominating the area over the desk, an antique like most of the furnishings.

"Ah, Viserys!"

Aemond turned and saw Milena, a slim woman with a ready smile and a sleek white sweep of hair. She wore a red dress that emphasized her shapely figure, and seemed perfectly at ease in her sky-high heels. She presented her hand to his father, and he placed a kiss on the back of it. "Milena, looking fabulous as always."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," she said flirtatiously, and then her gaze went to Aemond. "My goodness, aren't you very imposing, dear child?"

Aemond bowed, kissing her hand as well. "It is my honor to provide you with protection, Lady Milena."

"Let us talk. We shall have dinner and talk about the details."

She took the arm Viserys offered and led them to the dining room, where a variety of dishes were laid out. Aemond watched her discreetly during the meal, and was keenly aware that despite the fact that her eyes were mostly on his father, she was assessing him as well. He couldn't blame her. If she was going to put her life in his hands, she had the right to decide if she trusted him or not.

"It would only be the trip there, and once we arrive, my grandson can meet me and drive me back." She sighed. "I just can't do planes any more, not since we almost crashed that one time."

Aemond hadn't heard of this, but said nothing.

Viserys sipped at his wine. "Aemond would be delighted to drive you back here as well, if you wish."

Aemond would NOT be delighted to drive her back, he thought, but kept his expression neutral.

"Oh no, no, it's just the drive there that has me worried. The roads aren't what they used to be, you know."

The rest of the meal was taken up by stories from "the old days" which bored Aemond to near tears but he paid attention nonetheless, even though he would much rather have spent his time thinking of her.

* * * * *

She woke up and realized she'd fallen asleep on her sofa, and had a voicemail. She didn't recognize the number, but these days, that didn't mean anything anymore.

"Oh hello. Uh, it's me. I mean, Helaena. Hi. I got your number from Aemond, I hope it's ok. So, you're the only one who is doing the book club so did you want to come over or, you know, um, I could go to your place. Only if you want. I mean. You're always welcome here, but I know it's a drive to get here. Uh, ok. Let me know. Only if you want. It's Helaena. Oh, I said that already. Ok, bye."

She smiled to herself, wanting to hug Helaena. She seemed so lonely, and she was incredibly sweet. She texted back: I'd love to have you come over! Let me know when and we'll do it!

There was nothing from Aemond, not that she expected him to check in with her, but she was nervous about his sudden trip to Highgarden. Still, Helaena didn't sound like there was anything wrong, so that was a good sign.

She would live like this, she thought, always wondering if he was ok, and while the thought scared her, she didn't contemplate embracing the alternative.

Her phone dinged and she saw Helaena's reply.

omg omg I've never texted anyone other than my brothers. Ok yeah, let me see when I can go over and I will let you know. I'm so excited. Ok.

This poor girl. She had the sudden urge to plan something like an escape to Dorne or something, a girls' weekend full of tiny, dangerous drinks. And mani-pedis. And massages. And she was sure Aemond might murder her himself if she tried to escape with his sister. And she knew, given how she'd met Helaena in the first place, that it wasn't a good idea.

Maybe she'd plant the idea in Helaena's head and see what they could do. Alicent looked like she was up on all the latest treatments with her perfect skin and hair, maybe they could book a spa day wherever the Targaryens approved of such things.

She cleaned up a little, not that there was a lot to clean up, but it always made her feel better to have her space tidied up.

* * * * *

"Stay down, my lady!" Aemond yelled. The driver, a long time employee of Lady Milena, had been stupid enough to leave the car and had immediately gotten himself killed.

"Get me out of here!"

Aemond, reaching through the space between the two front seats, grabbed the woman's hand. "We're surrounded, my lady, but you are safe inside the car."

Another volley of gunfire sprayed across the side of the vehicle and Milena squeezed Aemond's fingers. "It doesn't feel very fucking safe!"

He knew they should have taken a different road, he had suggested it and been overruled because this fucking hag thought she knew better. And so did her goddamn driver. And he was dead. If they were in the car she'd wanted to ride in, they'd be dead. His vehicles were armored, it wasn't something he'd been willing to compromise on, and she should be fucking grateful.

His father had been in the first car, and his driver - one of Aemond's men - had sped away, taking Viserys to safety.

He had reinforcements coming in, and then he'd throw the silly goat into another armored car, drive her the rest of the way to King's Landing himself, and never again agree to this kind of shit.

* * * * *

You had finished laundry, eaten dinner, brushed your teeth, and were about to change into your pajamas when there was a knock on the door and you lunged for your phone, opening up the door security app.

You ran to the door and opened it, and Aemond, shirt covered in dried blood, looked at you.

Again you pulled him in and closed the door but this time he reached for you, grabbing your face in his and pressing his mouth to yours with a desperation that had you running your hands over his chest and shoulders to check for injuries.

"Not my blood," he muttered against your lips before he kissed you again, and sighing, you parted your lips for him.

He leaned down and for a moment you thought he was collapsing but then one arm went under your knees and he swept you up against him, and he headed down the hallway while you devoured his neck, raking your teeth down the pale column. Aemond hissed, his steps faltering for a moment, but then he walked into your bedroom, placing you on the bed.

He reached behind his head, pulling off the ruined shirt before tossing it aside. Coming back to you, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, and you raised to hips to help him as he began pulling them down along with your underwear.

Pulling your own shirt over your head, you threw it somewhere to the side of the bed as he finished undressing you, and then you felt his mouth on the inside of your knee. You pressed your lips together as he sucked in some of your skin between his teeth. There would be a mark there. "Mine," he said, and pushing your legs apart, hooked his arms underneath your thighs.

You met his eye, burning with want, a moment before he fastened his mouth between your legs and the room began to spin. You fell back on the bed, his lips and tongue setting you aflame. He wasn't gentle, or patient, and amidst the fog of pleasure enveloping you, you understood his frenzied need to have you.

Reaching down to grab his hair, to somehow get him to slow down before he made you come already, you felt his hands grab yours, and you could only hold on as he drove you to a quick, sharp orgasm. Your hips rolled with every lashing, your cries filling the room, and you realized he wasn't slowing down at all. He licked at your overly sensitive flesh, each swipe of tongue making your body twitch, until you felt it again, the heated coil twisting inside you once more, your hands squeezing his for something to ground you.

When you came the second time, your scream was louder, more ragged, and your body arched, every muscle straining as shards of pleasure tore through you. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears, the brief seconds of bliss as you came down soon taken over by a new build up of release curling inside you.

"Oh gods, oh gods," you breathed. If he heard you, he didn't react, gave no indication of stopping. Instead, he made some kind of growling noise against you and you gasped, the vibrations against you making you moan. Your legs had started to shake and as you began spiraling again you thought I might not survive this, and realized you didn't care.

You began rocking your hips, reaching for release, your hands wrapping around his, and as tears began falling from your eyes, you let it tear you apart, every part of you on fire for him as you came again, your mind going dark as the orgasm took over your every sense.

You felt him leave you for a moment, but then he was pushing inside you and your moan turned into a sob as pleasure and pain mixed together. He was big, and you were so overly stimulated, and as he stretched you, you started reaching for him, to slow him down or to pull him against you, you weren't sure.

You felt him grab one of your hands and he leaned down to kiss the delicate skin of your wrist. You turned your hand to caress his face and he pressed his lips to your palm, murmuring something you didn't quite hear.

You gasped as he snapped his hips, seating himself fully inside you. There were sharp little stings as you struggled to take all of him, but you pulled him down to you until your mouth was near his ear.

He stilled for a moment, and you ran your other hand up his arm.

"Fuck me, Aemond," you whispered. "I want everything."

You felt a shiver go through him, and then he pulled back, so slowly you stopped breathing, and then he thrust hard, making you gasp. Again, he pulled back and again he drove back hard enough to make you moan.

He stopped for a moment and you looked up.

"More. Harder."

You heard a soft hmmm from him, and then he leaned over you, his hands fisting in your hair because each thrust was hard enough that you realized he was holding you in place. The sounds of his hips slamming against yours filled the room, joined by the sounds of someone moaning, whimpering, desperately struggling to take everything he was giving you and at the same time, demanding more.

Your body, already addicted to the pleasure he was giving you, began tightening in anticipation, and when the orgasm hit you, you cried out, a ragged sob leaving your throat as you clenched around him.

He didn't let go of your hair and he didn't stop fucking you through your release, and as you recovered, you ran your hands up his arms and down his chest, the muscles hard as rock as he continued pumping his hips.

"Say you're mine," he demanded.

You wrapped your arms around him, your nails sinking into the skin of his back. "Yes."

He thrust hard, making you gasp. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you breathed out, and in the next desperate breath, you demanded, "your turn."

He went completely still then, and you could hear his breathing as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "I am totally, completely, and terrifyingly yours."

"Then I will have you, Aemond," you said, and pushed on one shoulder until he realized what you wanted and rolled onto his back, pulling your knees to his sides.

You rolled your hips once, realizing you would be sore later, and began moving, your hands on his shoulders as you began riding him. He reached up to squeeze your breasts, teasing the sensitive tips until he pulled you down to take one in his mouth. You moaned, and he fisted his hand in your hair again, keeping you in place so he could feast.

You rocked harder against him and he let go of your breast, one hand raking through his hair. "Fuck yes," he muttered, letting you set the pace as you continued moving above him. His hands slid down to your hips, one pressing into the soft skin there and the other moving over to your belly, his thumb sliding down to where you were joined. "Come again for me."

You let your head fall back and rode him, your thighs burning, until you felt it building inside you, your hands on your breasts as you gave in, a silent scream on your lips as he grew harder inside you, sending you over the edge, and you felt him groan, fingers digging hard into your hip, the other moving to wrap around you as you collapsed against him.

* * * * *

You didn't know how long you lingered in his arms, floating in the aftermath, Aemond turning to kiss your sweaty forehead every so often. At some point he rolled you onto your back again and ever so gently slipped inside you, this time his movements languorous as he drove you both to a sweet, sweet release that had you sighing.

You were now curled against him, legs intertwined with his, and he wrapped his arms around you. "Are you cold?" he murmured.

The covers and sheets had long ago ended up at the bottom of the bed along with one of your pillows.

"No," you looked at him. "Can you tell me about it?"

He turned onto his side, facing you, and told you about Milena Tyrell, how she'd complained about everything while he put his life on the line for her. The screaming argument he'd had with his father when he'd told Viserys he would never again agree to something like this, and how he'd just left in the middle of it, storming out of the house, to come to you.

You said nothing, just listened and ran your fingertips down his arm. You were most definitely NOT a fan of Viserys Targaryen, but right now you wanted to only focus on Aemond and it delighted you that he had sought you out, that he trusted you enough to come to you. It meant something, especially to someone like him.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"That I'm glad you came over, not just because this is the best sex I've ever had in my life," you said and he smiled, "but because I'm glad that you are confiding in me."

He leaned in to nuzzle your cheek. "I trust you," he said. "I've never told anyone I am theirs. I've never wanted anyone to be mine. I don't want to scare you," he said, and laughed when you rolled your eyes at him, "but I want you with me. I want you not just in my life, but to be a big part of it." He stopped himself before he said any more, but kissed your nose.

"Aemond," you said softly, "I know yours is not an easy life, but I am with you."

He moved to kiss your lips, holding you tightly, and he didn't let go for a long time.

* * * * * *

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[homunculus-argument]

You know, one reason I like your blog is that it gives me some hope that life will get better and even if i don't get my shit ever fully sorted out, at least one day my life will be a mess in a way that i like better and don't mind living with.

Like, we don't have that much in common (except that we're both Finnish + I possibly have ADHD, but that's currently in a "peer reviewed by other confirmed-neurodivergent friends" situation, not in a "official diagnosis" situation and I'm not sure getting it officially diagnosed would be worth the effort, and anyway, all of that isn't much), but there's moments when I do look at your posts and go, hey, maybe if that guy, despite having a shitty childhood and such, has eventually been able to carve out his life into a shape he's happy with and is doing well, maybe I, despite all my own fucking issues, also eventually will have a life I'm happy to live

I still don't have like 60% of my shit together, but that percentage seems to be going down by 2% every year. It turns out that when you spend enough time frantically scrambling around you eventually start getting a foothold on shit. Trying to date a lot of the wrong people, trying to stydy into a lot of the wrong careers, trying to settle down in a lot of the wrong places and trying to work several wrong jobs, all in a wild range, in the end it ends up just being a numbers game before the next "okay and now for something completely different" ends up being the right one.

When you have no idea where you're supposed to be going, any direction except down counts as going forward.

[dragongirlintestines]

Hunger Over Levin-3, Part 1

A vore fic featuring Thorne and Prin (@wolfgirlguts)

Ashvale station, in the orbit of Levin-3, has lain derelict for several years. The only things keeping it functional are the autonomous maintenance systems, still diligently scrubbing oxygen filters and purifying water. Designed to last, the half-mile long series of abandoned habitation rings has become a favorite stop of pirates, mercenaries, and others who would otherwise prefer to lay low for a few days. It's a far cry from the tourist-heavy resort destination whatever megacorp built the structure intended it for.

However, such shadowed corners of the galaxy are ideal hunting grounds for monsters.

Content warnings: Mentions of Sex, Blood, Gore, Graphic Digestion, General Cruelty.

Retro-rockets fire as a lone shuttle makes its final approach to Ashvale station, its raider crew cramped from the arduous journey and ready to spend some time reveling in their recent spoils. The raid had gone easier than expected, and they have some time to waste before they're due to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

Six bodies cross the umbilical between fuselage and installation, a mix of soft furs, ears of various shapes, and one tough, scaly hide. Two foxgirls, one red and one silver, mischievous grins flashing in the half light. A deergirl with an impressive rack of antlers spins an ill-gotten amulet around one finger, while a bright-eyed rabbit boy follows closely behind, eagerly chatting to her about something. Behind those four, standing two heads above the rest, a broad croc gal trudges, hauling one unwieldy laser cannon over her shoulder. Finally, a wolfman with greying muzzle follows, his walking staff thrumming with arcane power.

"Did you see the way that one looked when we busted down the door?" the rabbit remarks to the doe, "Priceless! I never get tired of those corpos' reactions when they realize they've fucked up!"

One of the vixens turns and smirks back at him, "Maybe we should see if we can get you to make that same face tonight!"

"I think you'd look quite cute begging for your life like that," the other vixen chimes in, moving to flank the leporine young man. A blush crosses his face as he recalls the pair's reputation for needing to burn off excess energy after a raid.

Similar jests continue as the motley crew make their way through slowly rotating habitation rings, finding a cluster of rooms around a common dining hall. It would seem the last residents to make use of the station had a sense of thieves-honor, and kept the rooms decently well maintained before their departure. The halls themselves are silent, lights extinguished except when the approaching party's life signs trigger their activation. The revelrous sound of footfalls and energetic excitement echo back and forth as the pirates set up for several sols of post-raid debauchery.

Not one of them notices as another small shuttle silently glides in to dock alongside their craft.

--

"Ahhh, it was so nice of them to leave that booze behind the bar! I was worried we'd have to dip into some of our own stash tonight!" sighs the red-furred vixen, reclining on a bed laden with pillows. The bunny boy, now thoroughly winded, rests his head on her slightly chubby belly, too exhausted and drunk to do anything about the mix of fluids matting down their fur. Beside them, the other vixen lays an arm across the pair, completing the rabbit sandwich.

"Yeah, and we still wouldn't have to if you hadn't drank half the bar, Shay," the silver fox groans, a teasing grin playing across her face as she gazes longingly into her girlfriend's eyes.

"Shut up, Bella," The other shoots back, flicking her partner's snout playfully. Above them, something creaks in the station.

"I didn't think we were that rough…" Bella jokes, before turning back to her lovers. "Whatever."

"Uggghhhh…" moans the cottontail between them, as he begins to roll off of Shay. "Gotta piss, do you know where the toilet is?"

"Nope! Let us know where it is when you find it!" Bella laughs. "Maybe after you use it. Unless you're into that, Ollie!"

"Ew. No." he deadpans as he disentangles himself from the horny vixen.

"Okie! Take your time, I'll get Shay here warmed up for round four!"

"Those stupid horny foxes…" Ollie thinks to himself as he leaves the room, unable to help but glance back at their still-throbbing cocks. It doesn't go unnoticed, and Shay shoots him a mischievous wink in response.

--

"Where is the damn bathroom?" The rabbit finds himself thinking, as he meanders through the hallways of the derelict station. The thought crosses his mind that this kind of poor design may have been one of the factors that led to its failure as a resort, and he chuckles to himself.

Up ahead, one of the sensor lights flickers on.

"Hello?" he calls out, wondering if one of his comrades was also up and about. As he casually strolls towards the light, it flickers out again, before reigniting when he comes in range.

"odd…" he mutters to himself.

"If I remember tomorrow, I should check that out and see if anything else is malfunctioning" he thinks. He is, at least sometimes, the responsible one of the crew. Finally, his wandering eyes catch sight of a sign, and he sighs in relief as he realizes his search has come to an end.

--

As the heat of the dryer cleans the fur on his hands, one of Ollie's ears perks up, as he hears the sound of footsteps outside the small lavatory. "I'll be out in a second!" he calls, hoping whoever is waiting didn't have to search quite as hard as he had.

Paws still slightly damp, he hurries through the door, and gently closes it behind himself. Turning back around, adrenaline spikes in his veins as he finds his vision filled with a mass of ashen blue scales. A pair of digitigrade legs, each foot tipped with sharp, bony talons ten centimeters long. Behind them flicks a long tail, pale golden ventral scales underneath contrasting with the same blue as the creature's thighs.

He slowly lifts his vision, trying not to stare too hard at the slight bulge in the golden scales and wide hips sitting just above his eye level. The creature's torso is a mass of muscle and flesh, and nestled between her breasts sits a strange device, a grey half-sphere glowing with baleful blue light. Hoses run from this core, most punching down into the flesh of the creature, but as his eyes follow two of them up to its left where they join into a terrifying mess of metal and synthetic muscle. A prosthetic arm, though he considers that it may have simply been an "upgrade" to the flesh it once was, given how its construction speaks of pure violent intent. It ends in a set of three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with sharp, polished points, the whole hand larger than his head. The terrifying metallic claws of the creature's left arm, however, seem barely an upgrade when he compares to the equally terrifying fleshy right arm. The whole body is framed by massive blue wings, tucked neatly up against its back.

Finally, he looks up to the creature's head, crocodilian to a certain extent, with pale ivory horns protruding from a mane of blue hair. Piercing, lightning-blue eyes leer down at him, and a pale red tongue runs along her lips as she looks down, hungrily.

"h… hello." he stammers, before the creature's metallic claw wraps around his torso and lifts him three feet off the ground, slamming him painfully against the door he just closed.

"Hey there, little snack," The creature growls, a wicked grin splitting its lips, revealing two dozen vicious teeth, each three inches long. Pure terror shoots through his veins, and he screams, every molecule of air he can expend tearing out of his lungs in a desperate cry for someone to save him.

Be it through sheer bad luck or a cruel twist of fate, he can hear a fox's scream of pleasure echoing faintly back through the halls of the station.

"Shame," the beast laughs, "you'll need that breath to run." It whips around, hurling Ollie's limp body 15 feet down the hallway. He bounces and tumbles, and feels several of his ribs bruise from the impact. "Get to it, little meat,"

"Meat?" he thinks to himself, unsure if he heard correctly, before the creature's draconic maw speaks again.

"I need to work up an appetite before dinner."

Oh. He heard correctly, he realizes. She wants to eat him. His mind races, the thought that a fellow sapient would stoop to something so taboo. Sure, some sapients would give in to their predatory instincts, but even the most depraved raiders stuck to hunting non-sapient animals.

"What, did I break you already?" a laughing growl peals from the beast's throat.

He doesn't need to be prompted. He needs to get back to his crew. They have weapons there. Victor might be able to weave a spell to bring her down. Or he could just be leading the monster to them. To devour them all.

No time to worry about that though. He needs to run. Now.

His paws scramble against the metallic floor, struggling for purchase. After agonizing seconds he pushes himself up off the ground, tearing down the corridors of the station.

He takes the forks on instinct, first left, then right, right feels correct here; there's no sense of direction, he just has to hope that by some miracle these labyrinthine corridors don't come to a dead end, and that he doesn't end dead.

No such luck. One wrong turn, and he rounds a corner into a common area of sorts. A large window looks out over the infinte void of space, the peaceful horizon of Levin-3 turning carefree down below. It would be beautiful, if he were anyone else.

To him, all it spells is despair. He's trapped here, in this beautiful lounge, with a monster between him any anyone who could save him. He's going to die here. He's going to die and be devoured by some sort of unhinged dragon woman. He's going to die and then she's going to slaughter his crew and no one will ever find their bodies.

No. he's not given up yet. Though the beast's pounding footsteps echo distantly through the station, he might yet be able to hide. He takes a chance to look around, noticing several doors labeled "penthouse suite" around the corners of the room.

He picks one, and to his relief, it opens with a quiet hiss. He dashes through, and finds a button with a padlock icon on the other side. His paw slams into it frantically, and the door gently clicks behind him. The lights in the room turn on, revealing a dusty, but lavishly decorated suite. A couch, table, and entertainment suite are laid out in front of him, with a kitchenette occupying one corner of the room. Through another doorway, he spies a comfortable looking bed, equally lavishly furnished.

He just needs to stay calm, and hopefully that… thing… will leave him be. He doesn't want to think about what that means for his friends, but that's a problem for when he makes it out alive.

Bile surges in his throat as exertion finally catches up to him, and he leaves a mess on the carpet as he retches. Recovering slowly, he tiptoes his way to the bedroom, tucking himself underneath the bed, behind the bed runner. It's sheer, and he can see the door through it, but it's as concealed as he can hope.

--

Agonizing minutes pass, and he can feel reverberations as the massive creature treads her way through the halls of the station.

"Did I put enough distance between us? Did she lose my trail?" Oliver wonders to himself.

The motion sensor lights turn off in the room, and he realizes the station itself kept his trail, writ large in pale LED lighting. A single, heavy footfall shakes the floor, and he knows death awaits right beyond the door.

A surprisingly gentle knock breaks the silence, followed by a mocking falsetto growl.

"Room service!"

A momentary pause that could last a lifetime. A prey animal trapped in its own nest holds its breath desperately hoping against hope that his doom would turn her gaze elsewhere.

"Ah well, worth a try," comes the growl, taking cruel pleasure in its little joke.

Metal shrieks against metal as hardened steel talons punch through the door, tearing through the it like paper. Blue scales fill the doorframe, and the creature stoops to let itself in. It sniffs a moment, then wrinkles its nose at the small vomit stain on the floor. A low, throaty growl escapes its lips, as it scans the room.

Oliver's eyes fall upon it at the same time as the beast's. A clean trail of pawprints in the otherwise pristine carpet of the room.

The beast crouches down, taking its time to crawl towards the poor rabbit's hiding place. "I didn't know you thought of me this way," she croons as she steps slowly, deliberately towards the bedroom. Stooping again through the second doorway, it presses itself to the ground. It lifts the bed runner, making full eye contact with one terrified lagomorph. Her claw lashes out, filling his vision, metal fingers splaying around his ears. He feels crushing pressure around his skull, and wonders if this is the end.

It is not. She pulls him out from under the bed by his ears, pain shooting through his scalp, and he can feel something warm run down the back of his neck.

"nononoNONONO!" he screams and kicks as she lifts him slowly up off the ground, before forcing him down onto the bed. Not too long ago, he remembers dreaming of something similar with a certain vixen, but this is much less desirable. For the second time within the hour, a scream rips its way through his throat, hoarse and ragged.

The monster does not allow it to last. She climbs up onto the bed after him, its lightweight orbit-alloy frame cracking under half a ton of draconic flesh. Her claws wrap around his arms, and those terrifying jaws crack open impossibly wide. He tries to squirm, but his arms are held tight to his torso, leaving only his legs to flail helplessly against the air, while the beast lifts him towards her rows of flesh-rending fangs.

The deathly maw snaps forward, driving daggers into his arms and gut, forcing the last screaming breath out of his lungs. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to stare down the yawning throat that pulses and throbs, eager for meat. It is only when she takes another hungry swallow, teeth this time piercing his soft ass, that he realizes this monster has no intent to chew. Her tounge dances along his abdomen, and a growl of pleasure reverberates up through the throat around him. Wretched, hot air wafts up from within its throat as he feels its tongue play across his body, tip winding its way into gaping wounds, lapping at his freely flowing blood. The agony is exquisite, but he can only manage a tiny whimper.

Again, the creature swallows, her tongue slipping between his thighs to push him deeper down her throat, rubbing against a sensitive nub of flesh. He is cruelly reminded of a joke Shay made about "playing with her prey" when her tongue had been in a similar position earlier that night.

He can feel as his ears slip into her gullet, and his face is pressed firmly into the soft entrance. Another burst of adrenaline kicks in, and his whole body flexes and writhes, raging against the terrifying thought of being digested alive. His arms, now free of the claws holding them in place, desperately grasp at something, anything, that he might use to pull himself out. Too late he realizes his paw has grasped something bony and round. Murderous jaws once again slam shut around him, and his hand is quickly turned to a mangled, bloody mess as it is impaled between dragon teeth. Likewise, his writhing legs are stilled as daggers sever nerves in his thighs, before pressure builds and he can feel a femur snap beneath several tons of bite force.

Her prey now somewhat more subdued, the dragon tosses her head back, letting gravity aid in pulling this morsel down her throat. One leg hangs limply outside her maw, as the still living meat is hungrily dragged into her throat. The rabbit can't even feel as she wraps her tongue around that limb, and lazily drags it down with the rest of him, not a care given for the disfigured mass of flesh it has become.

The throat is crushingly tight around Oliver, but compared to the bite force he had just experienced, it feels downright gentle. Peristaltic motions pull him ever deeper, and he cannot help but whimper, knowing in his heart that there is no escaping now; only slow, agonizing death. As he whimpers, his body shakes, and tears fall from his eyes, mingling with the esophageal mucous surrounding him. The beast's gullet, ignorant to his misery, pulls him ever deeper.

He feels a gentle pressure against his head, which gives way as the esophageal muscles push him into a more open chamber. He gasps, and immediately regrets it. Painfully acidic fumes burn the sensitive inside of his nose, down his throat, all the way into his lungs. A moment later he opens his eyes, another immediate regret. The throat pushes again. His face is plunged into chemical soup, immediately searing his corneas blind. Now panicking in sightless darkness, he can't help but thrash wildly with what little strength he has left. He feels himself fall for a brief moment, and a weight lands on top of him. He realizes that he can't feel his legs anymore.

As he thrashes, he can hear that same rumbling growl from before, only now it emanates from all around him.

"Mmmmm… yeah. I should get rabbit more often…"

He can feel something pushing on the stomach walls, as the beast rubs her slightly swollen gut. To an outside observer, were it not for the occasional bump, it would be barely obvious that an entire sapient had just been tucked away behind those scales.

"Shouldn't have crushed his legs though… they'd probably feel real good kicking in there…" Impotent fury surges through his mind as Ollie realizes she's taking pleasure in his digestive demise.

"Let me out! You fucker!" he screams, his voice hoarse from his previous exertions, as well as the scouring acidic air of her guts.

"Hmmmm… Aww, does food not know its place?" the monster ackowledges him, pure cruel mockery in its voice.

"Why… We're both sapients… You're a monster…" he moans, delirium starting to set in from lack of air.

"Oh I'm aware, you're hardly the first delicious little morsel to call me that."

"You've gotta let me ou- glrk" the poor rabbit's voice chokes as cruel hands force him under gastric juices. Bloody chime quickly surges into his throat, violating his insides. His tongue feels slippery as it begins to melt, and he finds himself unable to speak as his vocal cords sear through.

"Oh, no, I've still got a whole meal to worry about before that…"

Muscular claws push down on the belly, and it clenches painfully around him. He feels burning inside his chest, and pressure outside. Something twitches, then gives. His ribcage collapses, crushing his heart. Sensation begins to fade.

"I wonder if Prin's caught anything yet…" the bunny hears, moments before hopping off the mortal coil.

[hypnotic-delusion]

☀️Heeeyy☀️ can we have a bit of infos about your OC Callie and Sercrit please ??🥰🥰

YES OF COURSE THANK YOU FOR ASKING

for starters I'm doing sercrits story first because she's newer and has less about her like a LOT less. Like a LO

Sercrit is the first sphinx to live, nicknamed the Mother Sphinx. Shes a bit older than the Gorosei [not by much, btw in my headcanons they are just yokai] and she's actually fairly well acquainted with them, mostly because she's SO FUCKING ANNOYING. She traveled around a LOT before the void century and would run into them constantly and would bother them before they were found by Imu, and she took a liking to Nusjuro because, to her, he was the most amusing and actually got a lot of her riddles right. After imu she didn't see them for a while and during the Void century she toppled a country and became its ruler, finally staying in a single place instead of causing chaos everywhere. At the end she was imprisoned in a "rock shell" [she was actively turned into rock but was still sentient] for up until about 20, 30 ish years before the main story and the city was defeated and toppled, left to rot. She was freed under a contract by, guess who, the gorosei!! [under orders of Imu] so she just hangs around with them mostly. She can't actively hurt any of them or anyone affiliated with them [for example, other Celestial dragons] due to her contract else she would be turned to stone again!! she's had a bit of a character development and became less immature during her imprisonment and would much rather spend her days lounging around in Pangea Castle with Nusjuro rather then forcefully rule over any kingdoms

Callie stuff under the cut because it's a LOT.

Callie is a! Special case! For starters, she was born as a slave to a Celesital dragon and so were her parents. Her dad was killed 5 years after she was born [they werent always slaves but callie was born into slavery] so it was her and her mother up till she was around 12, then her mom was taken away and then she was alone for another 2 years. So she was 14 when she ate the Flesh flesh fruit [Summary: the flesh flesh fruit allows the user to manipulate their body with no boundaries, turning into incomprehensible horrifying things with the price of excruciating pain and everlasting hunger: basically, body horror shape-shifting. Once you eat the fruit no wounds or scars remain unless they were there before you ate it, so Callie still has her Celestial Hoof scar. This ability also comes with near instant regernation which makes this fruit powerful and dangerous, which plays a part in the story] and when she overheard her captor talking about selling her off just like her mother. After so many years of torment she completely snapped, and due to the fruits affects not only did she break out and kill her captor and several other slaves but she also ate them due to being so damn hungry. She got out the place and figured out she wasn't even in Mary geoise, but rather some old run down shack with a GIANT basement in the middle of a snowy island, with townsfolk nearby. Here's her actual BACKSTORY backstory because I'm not typing the rest of this out I'm ngl BT THE WAY the ages in the backstory are the old ages, rhe ones I say now are the new ages

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Callie was born as a slave. From birth, she was exposed to horrid sights no person should have seen nor experienced. Every day was a new struggle- lack of food, water, the filthy conditions, being overworked by the age of 5, and many others. She witnesses people be shot and killed for speaking too loudly, dropping dead from any number of diseases or from the conditions. But, her light in the darkness was her parents.

Her mother and father weren't always slaves. They spoke of the days before their debt landed them in a never ending rabbit hole, when life was happy and joyful. She would listen to the stories with a smile, resting in her mother's lap as they kept quiet so her Celestial Dragon captor wouldn't hear. She felt happy, despite her conditions.

Until, one day, her parents were disposed of. Her father was tortured and killed after defending a child who was going to be whipped for disobeying, and her mother was sold off to another celestial dragon. She was now left, alone. But, on the day of her mother being sold, hearing the screams of her being dragged off and begging for her child, a fruit dropped into her cell.

It was round, tan, red and purple. It almost looked like meat, but Callie didn't care. She was so, so hungry- any fruit would suffice. Despite it being disgusting, she kept eating. She was so hungry, having been starved for nearly a week straight by now. So...hungry...

Callie lost herself. The fruit was, indeed, a Devil-fruit, the Flesh-Flesh fruit. Insatiable hunger filled her body, her very soul, and paired with the trauma she had endured and the thought of her parents being gone, she went berserk. She stood and broke out of her cell, before tackling her captor- who was extremely confused and threatening her with a gun out of fear. (1/3)

(2/3) She satisfied her urge by devouring the man infront of her, brutally, where the slaves could see through their cells. She continued to rip him, flesh from bone, until nothing but his arm in her mouth was left. She stood and walked directly out of the building- which, was not in Mary Geoise- rather a shack with a basement kept in a snowy island. She tracked blood through the soft snow, dripping it and knawing on the bone hanging from her mouth, slowly forgetting the stories her parents told her and the happiness they brought- and ultimately, them entirely.

After several months of tormenting, torturing and cannibalizing the citizens in the island, the World Goverment was notified. Hearing the descriptor of this woman, what she can do, this brought the attention of none other than the Gorosei. Only a few flesh-flesh fruit users existed before, as the fruit was rare due to its power. But, now they had their chance to study it.

They went to the island and successfully captured her, taking her back to the castle where they put her in the basement, restrained. Their "experiments" and "tests" were nothing more than torture to satisfy their curiosity and amusement, wanting to see how much she could handle. It got to the point where she stopped caring about the debilitating pain, both afflicted and in her stomach. The first time she was brought there, she was starved for almost 4 years straight. Keep in mind, she was only about 10 at the time.

She slowly got used to everything over the years, numbing herself to it. She remembered nothing from her childhood besides a few blurry faces and getting her brand on her back. Due to the brand being before she ate the fruit, it was still there. Over the next 19 years, she was used as nothing more than a weapon- or, when the Gorosei got hungry, a source of food to tear and sink their teeth into. She grew indifferent, relishing in the slaughtering of those she thought of, to an extent, as animals to hunt. (2/3)

Over time, she was transported to different facilities via the Navy. Only the higher ups and a few mid-ranking marines actually *knew* of Callies existence, as the Gorosei wanted to keep it mostly private. While she was being held in Marineford at certain periods, she grew fond of the Admirals, Fleet Admirals (both former and new) and the two Vice Admirals, since they treated her with decency and respect, something she nearly never experienced before. She grew attached, then obsessed, often breaking out just to see them. She was upset when she was taken away, but quickly regained herself as a trauma response. Bottling up everything to the point all she knew was what she was told and ordered, she was a nearly perfect weapon of war. To be starved over and over, tortured, maimed, transported and treated like an item instead of a being broke her entirely. She knows nothing but to eat, to consume, to devour-

-But deep down, she still did have a longing. A longing to escape one way or the other, wether it meant death or not. A longing to be as normal as she could be. A longing that came from her childhood, a longing her parents gave to her. Yes, she wanted to be free. But she couldn't be, not yet and maybe not ever. Hunger still bubbled in her gut and she wondered if she would ever be normal. Someone like her did not deserve to be seen or heard by anyone. She was a danger to people and she didn't know how to cope. And that was what she would believe, for then up until now. (3/3)

[dailybotany]

your blog is making me reconsider going to school for botany again...

This ask has sat in my inbox for a little while because I genuinely was too blown away to be able to respond. I think of any ask or message I've received so far, this is the one that has really blown my socks clean off. I couldn't have guessed that my rambling about plants could incite the responses that I've gotten from y'all!! It's incredibly humbling and encouraging.

I don't know the reasons you left school/stopped studying botany, so I can't in good conscience unreservedly encourage you to go back—your wellbeing is worth more than a college degree. What I do feel comfortable* to say is this:

Right now, we need people who are passionate and knowledgeable about plants more than we possibly ever have. And we need them in everything—not just in science, but in city planning and waste management and maintenance crews and construction and office jobs and customer service. For fucks sake, I know a lawyer who did his undergrad in botany and that knowledge still shapes the way he moves through the world. More than anything, we need people who care about the place they are in, pay attention, and try to do what good they can in their day to day lives.

There are a lot of paths to knowledge. College is one of them, and has the advantage of providing access to resources, connections to experts, and letting you spend almost all of your time diving deeply into a subject. But it has some incredibly severe downsides—the demands placed on the time and energy of college students are, frankly, unsustainable and unreasonable and the economic burdens are beyond words.

You can also:

Check out your local library/Audubon center/park to see if they already offer (or ask them if they could offer!) any programming with local naturalists/scientists for plant walks.

See if you have any nonprofits in your area that have educational programs — there's an institute near me that offers courses in scientific illustration, bryophyte identification, natural history, and more!

Sign up for scientific conferences! You can also frequently volunteer and get in for free or reduced admission costs. I adore conferences. They provide some of the most concentrated nature nerd excitement ive ever experienced; there's nothing most scientists like more than getting to explain their research and talk about their study area to an interested and captive audience.

If you have a botanical garden or herbarium nearby, volunteering there or attending education programming!

+ more that I'm not able to conjure to mind right now. The point is, keep learning. I cannot stress enough how cool it is to know that there are people like you out there who care about the plant world and want to keep learning. And that learning doesn't have to be from college. It is convenient when your whole life is oriented to learning it as fast and as thoroughly as possible, because the structure is already built for you. But you can build your own structure, too. One of the reasons all of my suggestions are offline is because I can gaurantee that there are people in your area you can learn from. There's some guy who has spent the last 50 years paying attention to mosses or grass or asters. There's a woman who knows all of the fungi around and when and where it will appear each year.

Find the people who are local to you who are passionate and knowledgeable. Make friends with them and go on walks. Ask them questions. Go on Google scholar (and then scihub) and find papers on what they're telling you about. Ask them more questions.

* also, though, I dunno man. Take this response with a fuckin slab of salt. I am literally just some guy. I'm excited you're here and I hope you keep being curious. That's the main thing. Take or leave the rest of this as you will.

[marylandlifecoaching]

I Am The Tree

If a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, does it make a sound? Ah, the age old question. And the answer is, of course it does. And that got me thinking. If someone is not on social media, does that mean they do not exist? Again, of course they do. But that freaks people out. I have actually heard a group of women {and I’m sure that men would probably have the same conversation}, talk about a dude that one of them met, and he didn’t have any social media. The horrific things that they were saying about him…

I have written about it before. Not everything is for everybody. Some things we should keep for ourselves. And the fact that someone doesn’t use social media, can be a very healthy response to mental health. Just like not watching the news. We need to be careful of what we take in. Because it will definitely have an impact on us.

You know the saying that you will become like the 5 people you spend the most time with? You know why they say it? Because it is fucking true. Pick your people wisely. Surround yourself with people who not only inspire you, but call you on your bullshit in a loving way. We are the quality of our thoughts. And our thoughts are the quality of what we take in, and who we let in.

I admit that I am kind of a social media whore. That said, you would be hard pressed to find anything that I have posted that wasn’t inspirational, or at least mildly amusing. And my feed? Sometimes good people have bad days. But if you’re shit posting on a daily basis, you’re out. It’s not a judgement on you. It’s an affirmation for me. And I don’t want to be that guy that knowingly subjects himself to negativity.

So yes, the tree makes a sound even if no one hears it. Same as the person without any social media. And that sound in many cases is freedom. The freedom to create and shape their own reality, with little to no outside influence. Let me speak on that for a brief moment. I’m an educated man. I am extremely well read. With multiple degrees, some time back I made a conscious decision to get rid of all of my religious books and text. Despite having a degree in Divinity, and once served as a Chaplain, a hug or just sitting in silence was far more effective to the wounded person, than quoting words from a book.

I have a very public life. I have a huge following over social media. And, I am in the news several times a year. People think they know me. But in reality, they have no idea. Because many times I am the tree. And they will never hear the sounds that are reserved for my inner circle and God.

[psychedelic-cartel-chronicles]

  Chapter 4: The First Load Arrives

“It’s the weather, Bob. They have to wait until it’s perfect. Right now it’s snowing in El Paso,” I told Bifocal Bob on the payphone call to New York.

“Snowing in El Paso?” he asked, “Is that even possible? I thought it was in the desert.”

“It’s the high altitude desert, Bob, and the crossers don’t want their movements tracked in the snow.”

“That’s ridiculous. Just get me the fucking load. Otherwise, I’m spending my money on what Neanderthal Ned brings me.”

“Neanderthal Ned” was a reference to one of my border smuggling competitors. He notably lived in a luxurious, retrofitted cave in the mountains overlooking Tucson and was able to amass substantial amounts of Mexican cannabis from independents operating along the Arizona border. Architectural Digest had written a favorable article about his Taliesin West inspired residence which was equipped with advanced automatic features like automated sky lights and floating stairways well ahead of its time. Ned, operating outside of cartel jurisdiction, retrofitted motor homes whose interiors had been altered to fit his shipments which averaged over a ton.

As well-known as Ned and his operation was, it was his girlfriend, Molly, who captured the most attention. Molly and I moved in the same circles. After she and Ned parted company, Molly showed up as a companion to Billy Mercedes, one of my main San Francisco distributors who lived in Marin County. After that Molly married a certain well-known television doctor, who wrote an anguished book, “Taming Molly” about his attempts to get Molly to conform to suburban life while married to medicine.

Ned was reliable, I explained, but this was on another level. We were sending the best genetics to Mexico. Commercial logistics were being arranged. The cartel had ensured a steady supply.

“Bob, you’re about to be on the other end of a pipeline,” I explained.

“Snowing in El Paso? That has got to be some bullshit. Get here as soon as you can.” Patience was not a virtue with Bob.

Waiting is the hardest part of the game. Tension continues to build as the wait goes on. The tension is composed of one or two parts anticipation and several parts fear. Fear that your warehouse might stand out, that crossers would be captured and the authorities might start working their way up the supply chain. Every day I spent at the Las Cruces, New Mexico Marriot was another day that law enforcement might start to wonder what I was doing there, comfortably ensconced in one of their suites in an area not known for tourism. Staying in one of the Marriot suites, playing the tourist and seeing the wonders of El Paso and Juarez? Hardly.

What to do with all that nervous energy? You couldn’t leave El Paso because the shipment was imminent. It could be seized at any point and then you were out whatever investment you had made and you might attract Federal attention. You couldn’t sit in your room or you’d go crazy with boredom. Every day, to avoid the anxiety, I would make the culinary circuit with Brian: breakfast at Lucy’s or Mi Pueblito with the great chili con queso, always followed by scrambled eggs with jalapenos or an egg over easy on one of their traditional red sauce enchiladas. Then we’d head over the bridge and spend the afternoon at the Florída in Juarez. The Florída restaurant was widely known to be owned by members of the cartel so we felt comfortable. Whatever the restaurant, Brian made sure that we were always supplied with an endless pitcher of margaritas.

If it was the right time of year, the Florída had cuitlacoche, the gray, stone-shaped fungus that becomes like tar when it is cooked and has an earthy, tangy, mushroom-like flavor with a hint of raw corn. Farmers call the dish el oro negro, or black gold. The Florída was also renowned for all of the classic Mexican dishes: turkey mole with three kinds of chocolate from Oaxaca, cooked for thirty six hours in clay pot, or carnitas tacos made the old fashioned way, carved from a roasting spit.

Later, after margaritas and a couple of joints of Mendocino homegrown, we would reconvene at Juarez’s renowned watering hole, the legendary border saloon, the Kentucky Club. The Kentucky was frequented by Generals Pancho Villa and Alvara Obregón, the first president of Mexico after the revolution. “The Kentucky” had a timeless quality with pictures from the Mexican Revolution of Pancho Villa riding majestically through town on a horse festooned with turquoise and silver bridles, Villa handing out chocolates or silver bullets to children, Villa with what looked like a cannabis blunt and of the U.S. general, Pershing, who led the Villa Expedition to find and punish Pancho Villa for his attack on Fort Bliss. If you stayed at the Kentucky Club long enough you hear all the stories about Villa. He was famous for his consumption of cannabis, celebrated in “La Cucaracha” and it was historical legend that Villa smoked his cannabis at the Kentucky.

Tables at the Kentucky, with the afternoon light casting shadows, reminded me of an elegant bar somewhere in the British Raj as the sun was setting on the Empire. Any table held court on an international assembly of stealthy high-end thieves, secretive smugglers, cartel lieutenants and Federal agents trying to avoid detection. The Kentucky was styled with thoughtful attention to detail from another era like the soft green-tiled trough that circled the bar which allowed their card playing patrons to urinate at will and not leave their cards unattended. Since the bar was constructed before refrigeration, every day at 4 PM, a skinny young kid, who looked as if he should still be in middle school, carried in the blocks of ice used for mixed drinks on his back. He was always accompanied by his boss, a seasoned four foot dwarf, who directed him and collected money for the ice. The dwarf danced back and forth with a nervous tick as he visited each table to offer an earnest “Buenas tardes”. He always stuck out his hand, expecting a tip in recognition of his status.

I formed a special bond with the Kentucky’s oldest bartender, Andrés, when I brought him a New York Times Travel Section article about him and the Kentucky Club. He framed it and to this day it’s still hanging from a favored location on the wall behind the bar. With great ceremony, he offered to give me his secret margarita recipe which I will reveal now for the first time: one part Hornitos Reposado tequila, one part squeezed lime, one part the Mexican orange liqueur, “Controy”. Andrés was insistent that I not try to substitute the French version of this same liqueur, “Cointreau”. It was finished with lots of hand-chiseled ice.

We blithely disregarded the DEA agents who would occasionally occupy a shadowy corner table, but later, when Brian’s partner Charlie was indicted, we found out that an entire Justice Department task force had been listening and waiting for just the right time. Brian and Charley had arranged for a planeload of Colombian cannabis, flown by some Southwest Airline pilots, that was abandoned before it was fully unloaded in the Palm Springs desert. Years later, the DEA confronted Charlie right in the Kentucky, laid out their evidence among the shots of tequila, and secured Charlie’s cooperation.

Still half-lit from the Kentucky, we would hop back into Leilani’s Cadillac and get in line to go back across the border. It was time for a nap to sleep off the tequila, to clean up and get ready for the evening.

Brian’s answer to the waiting doldrums was to honor a Texas tradition and visit one of El Paso’s multitude of topless bars. El Paso, being part of the South, with the Fort Bliss army base and the University of Texas, El Paso was a prime location for the industry. On my second day in town, Brian took me to lunch in a small downtown café called the “King’s X”. Just as I was biting into my turkey club, the clock struck one and the staff, with matching uniforms, came out to engineer a spectacular transformation. A small stage emerged from a hidden panel and four gorgeous college girls from UTEP walked out in sequined bikinis. It wasn’t long before I stopped eating lunch to watch the performance. Maybe I had led a sheltered academic life previously, but I was from California and had never seen anything like this: one minute I was eating lunch and the next there were college girls dancing topless with breasts unexpectedly inches from my face. Brian noticed my discomfort and immediately called over one of the UTEP girls and insisted she sit on my lap.

He introduced me as a “professor” and asked her what her major was. “I’m studying law,” she said and asked if I could help her with her homework as Brian slipped her a twenty.

“This is my friend’s first time in El Paso,” Brian explained, “I’d like you to introduce him to the way we do things in the state of Texas.” At that narrow, two-person table, she took some time to show me the affability for which Texas was famous. My wire-rimmed glasses were smashed and bent, but I was infatuated.

Unlike California, topless bars were everywhere. There seem to be an attempt to anchor shopping malls with the classic troika of Texas: a topless bar, a pawn shop, and a church. There were some that catered to those who liked heavier girls, to those that liked thin girls, to natural and artificially constructed girls and to every possible ethnicity. Some of them tried to overwhelm you with scale and sheer numbers of dancers and then there were others that were all nude. The latter required one to bring one’s own alcohol, because of an obscure Texas law that recognized the potential for social chaos if alcohol and complete exposure were sold in the same location at the same time. Another timely framed rule on the wall of every bar in Texas, “It is unlawful to discharge a firearm in an establishment where alcohol is sold.” Only in Texas would the constabulary feel the need to spell out the obvious. I gradually settled on two bars that stood out: the Lamplighter, and Prince Machiavelli’s. The Lamplighter became my favorite and it wasn’t long before all California propriety was gone and I started dating the dancers.

One morning, Brian showed up early at my room at the Marriot. Brian was always well dressed with a starched collared shirt, a selection of one of his Patek Phillipe watches and exotically skinned boots. “Del, it looks like we’re out of pocket today so I’ve decided we need to get you out of those tennis shoes.” Several of the cartel lieutenants had mumbled a comment or two regarding the informality of my choice of footwear.

“Man, you can’t wear tennis shoes unless you’re at home,” they told me. ”Why even your president wears boots,” Don Chui’s son, Armando, said, referring to George W. Bush. Over time, a growing consensus and low key concern from Leilani to our Mexican friends had determined that it was a matter of Texas pride, gentlemanly decorum and respect for local customs that demanded that I should immediately be outfitted with appropriate boots.

Brian had shown up with Charlie, his Mexican partner, who was dark-complected, short and heavyset, with a mustache reminiscent of Emiliano Zapata. Charlie always wore shorts and sandals which drew attention to his ample abdominal girth. He was dating the widow of a West Texas oil tycoon, Deborah, who just idolized the notion of her Charlie as a wild, pot smuggling outlaw. Deborah, the stylish blond Texas cheerleader, with her expensive outfits and jewelry, presented an odd couple when matched with Charlie. “My former husband was in the awl business,” she explained with a full Southern drawl, “But I just love my Charlie”. She loved showing Charlie the outlaw to her El Paso society friends and she made it clear to everyone that Charlie had improbably captured her heart as a virile Latin lover.

We arrived at Brian’s bootmaker who occupied a small shop in the old part of town near the border. The bootmaker was a small older Mexican man whose hands were yellow dyed and worn from years of working with leather and lasts. There was hardly room to sit as the shop was filled in every available space with the exotic skins of endangered species. The bootmaker took my measurements to build a last that would serve as the foundation for many future generations of my boots. Having taken my measurements, the bootmaker, under Brian and Charlie’s direction, began to bring in a selection of skins. Once again, with my California sense of propriety, I began to cringe in alarm as they showed me crocodile (endangered), lizard (endangered) and elephant (obviously endangered). The bootmaker mistook my wide-eyed examination of the elephant skin as an interest in the species, so he brought out an “elephant face” skin. Really? I thought, elephant face? There it was with a bullet hole right in the middle of this poor elephant’s skin face. I settled on ostrich, which I knew to be farmed.

“Del, you’ll need a second pair. You can’t just have one pair of boots,” Charlie explained, Pick one more,”

“Yes, you’ll need more than one pair,” Brian echoed. At this point, everyone was beginning to understand my reservations and laughed.

“Since you’re from California,” Charlie said laughing, “ you’d probably be happy with the alligator. Alligators are farmed. Unlike crocodiles, there’s plenty of them.” I settled on the alligator.

We decided to go out that night to celebrate my boot purchase. I selected the ostrich skin for a night on the town. We settled on the Lamplighter which was always our favorite spot. I called Theresa, my latest flame, and she came to pick me up in her classic 68 Mustang with her name, “Theresa”, written in sparkling sequins on each side of her car. My memory of the evening’s events was hazy, but I did remember a chorus line forming at one point with all the dancers joined together in a Rockette like performance.

I woke up early to the sound of a knock on my door. It was from Brian. He was up and ready.

“The crossers came through last night and the first load is in the warehouse, “ he said smiling.

[morethanwonderful]

I'm guessing a lot of y'all probably aren't that familiar with Xi Ping and Tai Sui, so if that's the case, please let me tell you about him!

Xi Ping is the most annoying man in the entire world (affectionate). I realize that label is something you could apply to several other Priest characters, but Shiyong takes it to another level.

Xi Ping is the protagonist of Tai Sui—the wealthy son of a minor noble who is dragged into a cultivation world he has absolutely no interest in joining. He is chaos incarnate. He is a menace. He is absolutely heartbreaking.

Tai Sui opens with Xi Ping playing the qin in bad drag because his "courtesan" friend needed a musician to perform with her, and when he gets caught at the brothel by his father, he just sprints out the door and away to hide out with his cousin across the city. He once tries to shield himself in a dangerous situation by turning himself into a chunk of decorative floor tile. He needs to sneak a specific type of tree into someone's yard without their notice to spy on them once, so he painstakingly cuts every new leaf on the tree into a different shape for years so that his enemies won't notice the tree's species. He spends more money than most people make in years on an elaborate homemade fireworks show to wish his teacher happy New Year when he thinks he might be sad. He cons his best friend into thinking he's decades older than he is and makes her call him uncle.

Xi Ping wakes up every day and decides that he is going to cause problems.

And the thing is, it's all narratively justified problem-causing! Xi Ping's whole thing is that he follows "the ungovernable way." Even his cultivation power comes from refusing to be tied down and follow any one code of conduct or worldview. He has the power of "I can do whatever I want forever." He is the element of chaos introduced to topple an oppressive system. He learns about the injustice inherent in his society over the course novel's early arcs and weaponizes his problem-causing to right those wrongs.

Furthermore, Xi Ping is constantly trying to fight with people unfathomably more powerful than him. He's going up against centuries-old demigods on the regular, and in several story arcs, he doesn't even have a body to fight them with physically. All he ever has are his wits, his friends, a qin, and his talent for fucking with people, and he makes use of those things beautifully.

I can't even get into the more emotional or serious aspects of his character without giving major spoilers for Tai Sui, which I'm not going to do. (You should all read Tai Sui and experience that for yourselves). But just from the sheer chaos alone, Xi Ping is one of the characters of all time. He's annoying he's loving he's calculating he's impulsive he's losing his humanity and he's his murderous cousin's only anchor to the human world. He's the world's wisest dumbass. He's a mask of his own face. He's the love of my life. Read Tai Sui and he'll be the love of your life too.

Priest (Author) Character Upper Bracket

*Xi Ping fanart volunteered by @stellarish / used with permission

[“Anti-propaganda” is not allowed. Please only give reasons to vote FOR a character, and please be courteous in the notes.]

Han Yuan from Liu Yao

“Unlike us that had a vagrant life, domesticated kids are shy; I have to look after him in future.” - Han Yuan about Cheng Qian

Submission: Cringefail loser(most affectionate) dragon boi. Gone edgy but his family loves him anyway.

The “idiot” from the description - “A cultivation story about how a declining sect is restored by a narcissist, troublemaker, meanie, idiot, and wimpy kid.”

“our fav -1 braincell kiddo”

Xi Ping from Tai Sui

Submission:

He is literally everything to me. Pure chaos condensed into a single person. Everyone loves him, everyone hates him. He does his best, he doesn't try at all, he beats up monsters with a qin, he brought about the destruction of the entire cultivation world…

Han Muchun from Liu Yao

"Only I, your master, would not detest you, my dirty girl. If it were your first senior brother here, he would have stewed you." - Han Muchun to Shuikeng, Liu Yao: The Revitalization of Fuyao Sect, Chapter 29

[No propaganda submitted]

Took some disciples for his declining sect and unexpectedly became a father

(Sharing a picture with Tong Ru because zooming in any further makes it almost indistinguishable. Also, pain.)

[jakelandryshorts]

Lil Somethin’ Somethin’

“Dude!” Matt texted. “This shit is fucking crazy!”

Dustin felt his phone vibrate. He saw the text. Then sighed. Matt must have gotten something in his head again. But Dustin wasn’t going to be part of one of his schemes. He just closed the screen on his phone.

However, Matt was persistent. Dustin’s phone rang. “Hello?” he answered.

“Hey! Did you see my text?”

“Yeah,” Dustin answered, rolling his eyes. “So, what’s so crazy?”

“You’re not going to believe me,” Matt bragged. “But Greg sent me this app that can change reality.” He was still giggling with excitement. “And it actually works!”

Dustin was obviously skeptical. “Uh-huh,” he nodded. “You going to prove it?”

Matt went quiet for a few seconds. “You want to work out,” he’d told Dustin.

“Like hell—” Dustin was about to say. He’d been spending all day on his computer, just like usual. Yet, the urge suddenly hit him. “What the fuck?” he cursed again. “What’s going on?”

“I told you. This little device can change reality,” Matt said. Dustin went quiet. “Meet me at the gym.”

“But—”

“Check your wallet,” Matt said.

Dustin did as he was told and there was a gym membership card in there. “Fuck man…” he muttered. “I don’t know if I’ll get used to that.”

“We’ll see,” Matt laughed as he hung up the phone.

There was a weird shiver that ran down Dustin’s spine, but he couldn’t deny that he was a bit curious about the device as well. Never in his life had he thought about working out, but right now there was a gym membership in his wallet. Not to mention when he passed the mirror, his body seemed to have changed along with it. His massive belly had tightened up a bit. It was the same with the rest of his body as fat didn’t seem to jiggle as much as it had.

Even the drive felt familiar. Almost like he’d been doing it for several months now. But that made it feel all the more strange. Dustin shook off the feeling. ‘Probably just a side effect,’ he rationalized as he pulled up to the gym. Walking in felt just like any other day. A place he consciously knew he’d never been before, yet, at the same time he recognized so many people. People who’d work out at the same time every day. Again, he shook it off. Especially when he saw Matt.

“Yo!” Matt called over to him, waving at him.

Dustin felt his face burn red. People were looking at him. He held his head down and trudged through. “Hey…” he said. “So it’s real?”

“Uh-huh,” Matt nodded and pulled out his phone, shaking it in front of Dustin. “I’ve been playing with it this morning and wanted to test it a little more. There’s so many features in here that I just want to try some more out.”

“Really? And it can do anything?”

Matt nodded again. “Yep. So, what do you want it to do?”

Dustin felt his mouth go dry. Already it’d changed a few things about himself. Would it really be alright to change more? “Can it…” he took a breath, embarrassed at his wish. “Can it make me a bodybuilder, like your dad?”

For a second, Matt looked skeptical. Almost like he didn’t know what Dustin was talking about. The two were almost nothing alike, body wise that is. His dad had to be a good 230 pounds, 6’2” and kept in contest shape near year-round. It was impressive what he was able to accomplish and even more impressive that Matt didn’t take after him at all. Barely even 5’10” and weighed what seemed like half as much.

Matt’s confident smile quickly returned. “Of course. That’s something I wanted to try. A more delayed and slow transformation. That alright?”

“Uhhh… Yeah,” Dustin said. “I wouldn’t want it to be weird.”

“Perfect,” Matt said. He started typing away at his phone and then looked like he hit enter.

“Now what?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Go work out.”

“But—”

“Quit worrying,” Matt pushed at Dustin’s back. “Just go work out.”

Dustin looked down at the weights in front of him. The uneasiness inside him lingered. However, he pushed on, grabbing the metal and then lifting it up. Suddenly the world around him changed. Absolute euphoria overtook him. His body moved through each of the motions as though he’d been doing them for almost a decade. They were growing.

The veins in Dustin’s body bulged, pumping blood through his system even faster. Testosterone filled his body. He pushed himself through the exercises. But his normal clothes changed. Sweat seeped through his t shirt, but as his body grew, the sleeves disappeared. Not even an average sleeveless shirt remained. Instead it was only two very thin strings that allowed him to show off his chest even more.

Each rep added more and more weight to his frame. Pound by pound, muscle added onto him. His arms quickly tightened. His shoulders broadened, and legs thickened. Both changing the nature of his posture and how he walked. Every step he took was filled with confidence. More of a strut, showing off the goods.

His muscles grew past that of an average lifter. Then more like a bodybuilder. They filled up his much larger clothes making even the string of the sleeveless shirt stretch. But as finished his last set he took another look in the mirror, threw up his arm and give it a firm slap. A smile filled his face quickly followed by horror.

“Bro! What the fuck!?” Dustin tried to keep his voice quiet, but the bass of it was hard to do so. He rushed over to Matt. “I thought you said it’d be a while. No one’s going to fucking believe I got this way this quickly.”

Matt just smiled to himself. “Calm down. No one’s going to notice,” he said. Then pulled out his phone again.

“But—”

“No. One’s. Going. To. Notice,” Matt said. He stuck his finger out. “So, calm down. It’ll be okay. Alright?” His small body leaned against Dustin’s. One of Matt’s hands placed itself onto Dustin’s pec, cupping it. Squeezing it. “And you like being big. Don’t you?”

Dustin felt his face burn a little bit. “Well… Yeah,” he couldn’t lie. That was beyond true. “But don’t you think you could have… You know… Made everything big?”

“Oh?” Matt turned to a more teasing tone. “You want everything to be big?” He instantly knew what Dustin was talking about. Matt’s hand dipped into Dustin’s shorts.

“MATT!” Dustin lost control of his voice for a second. Everyone in the gym looked over. “Matt!” he hissed. “We’re in public.”

“The you better not make a scene,” Matt smiled. His hand continued to play with Dustin’s dick. The hard three inches was about the only thing small on the other man. Dustin knew that. It was always uncomfortable undressing in front of the other guys as his nub looked all the smaller next to his massive legs. But in Matt’s hands it felt gigantic.

Dustin bit down on his lip. He flexed as hard as he could. “Ma-Ma—tt,” his voice shook. That only seemed to encourage his friend. Dustin’s breathing grew haggard. It was so hard to think about anything else. And with the workout he’d just finished, going for a round two was making it even harder to keep up. Euphoria rushed through him as a mess formed in his jock. “Matt!” he scolded.

But all Matt did was smile. “C’mon man. You got a little something and I got a little something. Don’t get so upset.”

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