#absurd amount of eggs

[cassandralexxx]

2 years ago today 🥰

#Mylife #rehab hospital #Chronic illness #absurd amount of eggs #Wasn’t what was on the little receipt thing either 💀💀💀 #The walker I had to use is very barely in the background of that shot 😋 #Sc memories #I don’t enjoy eggs to that extent #Opening the food they gave me at that hospital devastated me every day #March 20 #Sc

[risingsunresistance]

there was a guy mining in the spot i was mining in but like. avoiding me instead of greifing. i had to go after like an hour of being with him so i gave him an egg (prehistoric) as a parting gift. he seemed more confused and concerned than anything kjfhkg

#im TRYING to SOCIALIZE for once but everyone is weird >:( this is why i stay silent even when ppl talk to me kjfghd #do you not want egg. this is your son. take care of him #he was just lv15 i wanted to give him egg. for the funsies #i have an absurd amount of eggs from powder mining. i didnt realize how common the eggs were #they are overrunning my backpacks. there is an infestation #chat #sb

[okcoolthanks]

hai good morning ev!!! im currently in nebraska. i am approaching

Millions of dinosaurs are waiting for you

🦖 <these guys

#dude this is gonna be the worst Easter egg hunt of the century #it’s been raining so there’s just gonna be an absurd amount of like green wet sticky notes everywhere #HOWVER I WILL MAKE MORE!!!!!! JUST YOU WAIT #also goodmorning to you too lmao

[theminecraftbee]

since we’re quite literally in the last hours of season nine, I just sort of want to go over the INSANE NUMBER OF THINGS that happened this season:

the spawn village!

the whole entity thing. remember when the fandom was insane about the entity for like two months.

the egg hunt!

the diamond pillar contest!

hotguy became a thing!

KING REN, a storyline that lasted several months and included:

a quest system people actually quite liked!

corruption that people somewhat disliked!

oh wait now it’s time for SCAR’S CHARITY STREAM! remember that happened this season? it raised an absurd amount of money? YEAH.

also total chaos goes somewhere around here on the timeline I think.

the king ren minigame finale!

TCG! the TCG happened here!

THE CROSSOVER! let’s not forget HOW COOL THE CROSSOVER WAS, shall we?

I think I’m allowed to put mcytblr sexyman on here next because while that wasn’t the fault of the hermits it feels like it should go on any fandom timeline here and also joe DID technically bring it to the server.

I want to repeat: THE TCG HAPPENED IT WAS EXTREMELY GOOD THE ENTIRE SERVER PLAYED IT FOR MONTHS. it feels like THAT was a season ago at this point, man…

false’s elytra course goes like… right here!

gem starts collecting everyone’s head in the latter half of the season I think but I can’t remember exactly when.

the museum conflict starts about here! cleo and cub start both building museums!

the perimeter versus the buttercups, capped off with the single most impressive hermitcraft prank of all time!

scarland opens!

DECKED OUT 2 OPENS!!!

blue river raceway happens!

and SO MANY MORE hermit adventures, each in their own episodes! I’m sure I missed SOMETHING here—I was mostly going for storylines that involved more than one hermit, and even then i keep on forgetting stuff happened this season, lol.

and finally, out of order but worth noting: rest peacefully, TFC.

goodbye, season nine. what a season you were!

#hermitcraft #SO MANY THINGS HAVE HAPPENED THIS SEASON #THAT I KEEP FORGETTING. THEYRE FROM THIS SEASON.

[bananastarion]

My day job is being the sole caretaker of around 800 or so plants in a garden center at a hardware store

My night job is my farm in stardew valley

Needless to say, my life consists of 80% watering plants at any given moment

The remaining 20% is reserved for Shane ofc :P

#they just made chickens legal to own in my neighborhood but my mom wont let me get any... #even tho my family eats an absurd amount of eggs

[munson-blurbs]

I would actually LOVE to read about the proposal! How did it go down? Was Harris there? I think a blurb about that would be really special :)

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: A lazy Sunday morning turns into something much more special, thanks to your two favorite guys.

Warnings: pretty much none, just proposal fluff and a smidge of suggestive language at the end

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The proposal/Harris calling Ms. Sweetheart "mommy" was also requested by @hippiefairy02, @cheesewritings, @enam3l, @peachysink, and a handful of anons!

March 1998

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

Harris’s soft voice doesn’t carry over the sounds of running water and the sponge squelching soap bubbles along the lip of a coffee mug, the remnants of a lazy Sunday morning breakfast. He clears his throat and tries again, tugging on the back of your bathrobe as he shouts.

“Ms. Sweetheart?!”

You jump, pulled from your own thoughts, nearly dropping the cup among the sea of dishes cluttering the sink. Eddie had made scrambled eggs and toast for the three of you; a gesture you’d thoroughly enjoyed until you realized that the clean-up fell on your shoulders.

“Jeez, Har. What’s the emergency?” You catch your breath, allowing your heart rate to settle back to a normal rhythm, and shut off the faucet.

Harris wrinkles his nose, the bridge creasing in confusion. “There’s no ‘mergency,” he says, releasing his grasp and motioning for you to follow him. “I gotta show you something.”

You oblige with a soft laugh, haphazardly grabbing a dish towel to wipe the suds from your hands and wrists, and let him lead you to the kitchen table. Crayons are strewn across it, blues and purples and reds intermingled around his artwork. 

“Whatcha drawing?” you ask, hands bracing the back of the chair he’s plopped down on. You peer over his shoulder and smile. It’s a picture of you, Eddie, and him. A full-fledged kindergartener, he’s been adding more details to his stick-figure family portraits: a vase of wildflowers sits atop a sienna oval table, black squares and rectangles above it represent the various photo frames hanging on the kitchen wall. This picture looks different than Harris’s usual set-up; he typically draws himself in the middle of you and Eddie, each of his hands overlapping yours and his dad’s. Today, he’s drawn you, then Eddie, then him. And your hands aren’t linked; instead, he’s used a silver crayon to place something in Eddie’s cartoon palm.

You furrow your brows and gesture towards the mystery object. “What’s that, Har?” It’s better not to guess, lest you say the wrong thing and inadvertently offend him. Just last week, you’d asked him if a small blue object in the sky was a bird, and he was on the verge of tears trying to explain that it was a UFO. 

“Can’t you see the alien?” he’d wailed, pointing to a little green dot you’d assumed was a rogue eye.

Now, Harris grins. “It’s a proposing ring!” he announces. “That’s why you’re smiling so big!” Sure enough, the curved line of sketch-you’s mouth extends to both cheeks. 

Real-you can’t help but mimic the beaming expression. Just the idea of Eddie proposing to you has you feeling giddy. You’d marry him tomorrow if you could; all he has to do is ask. Though your pulse quickens at the thought, you don’t want to build up Harris’s hopes for something that may not happen for a while. Pressing a kiss to his scalp with a soft giggle, you remark, “A proposing ring? That’s so silly!”

“Is it?”

The unexpected sound of Eddie’s voice has you whirling around, startled for the second time this morning. He’s still wearing his pajamas, flannel pants perfectly complementing your own cozy attire. He bites the inside of his lip, and when he takes your hand in his, you can feel it tremble slightly.

“Sweetheart, I…” he starts, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed an absurd amount of times. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Sweetheart, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night grateful for you. Never in my life did I think I would find someone who loved me the way you do; someone who loves my son like he’s their own.” He chokes up at the last part, blinking back the tears so he can press on. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I landed such an incredible, thoughtful, beautiful woman.”

You offer a small laugh, slightly easing his nerves, and he manages to smile. “You…you’re the love of my life, and my world is infinitely better with you in it,” he continues, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and sinking onto one knee. With shaky fingers, he opens the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond on a thin silver band. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god.” Elation and disbelief simultaneously surge through you, eyes going misty as the realization hits you. Eddie’s actually proposing. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to be your husband. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You’re laughing and crying, tears streaming down your cheeks; you sloppily wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Eddie stands up, the ring still in its case. You expect him to slide it onto your fourth finger; instead, he turns to Harris with a knowing expression. “Your turn, Har.”

Before you can question it further, Harris takes your hand in his, just like Eddie had. “Ms. Sweetheart,” he looks up at you with wide, exuberant eyes, “will you be my mommy?”

You scoop him up into your arms; he’s almost too tall for you to do it comfortably, and it pangs at your heart. “Yes, I will be your mommy, Harris!” You kiss his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, placing him back on the ground as he excitedly kicks his feet.

With that, Eddie puts the engagement ring on your finger triumphantly, pulling you in for a hug that squeezes the breath out of your lungs. His lips find yours without hesitation, kissing you as long as Harris will allow before the kid becomes impatient.

“Mommy?” The title rolls off of his tongue so easily, bringing with it fresh batches of tears for both you and Eddie. Mommy. You’re Harris’s mommy. The close bond you’ve already developed strengthens in that moment, and you vow to wear your badge of Chosen Mom with pride. 

“Yeah, Har?” 

“Can we celebrate with ice cream?”

“It’s, like, 9:30 in the morning,” Eddie laughs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even think Scoops Ahoy is open yet.”

Harris pouts but ultimately relents, on one condition. “Then…can we go when it opens?”

You look at Eddie, who delivers his seal of approval with a quick nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

As Harris cheers, you sneak a glimpse of the new jewelry adorning your finger. It daintily sparkles even under the kitchen lighting, a perfect depiction of your love for one another. 

Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “How’d I do?” he asks with a goofy, lopsided grin. “Is my future wife happy with her ring?”

You turn around, draping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, desperate for a moment of intimacy. “I love it. And I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And me?” pipes up a little voice. 

“Both of you,” you amend with a giggle. Pleased with your answer, Harris returns to his crayons and construction paper. 

Eddie’s voice is a melodic whisper in your ear. “After our family ice cream date, maybe you and I can celebrate a bit more privately?” You can practically hear his teasing smirk at the raunchy implication. 

“We can pick up champagne on the way home,” you murmur back, heat blossoming in your belly. You’re no longer just a girlfriend, but a fiancée, a future wife, and there is nothing else you crave more than the touch of your future husband. 

And while you and Eddie finish washing the dishes with a plethora of stolen kisses, Harris picks up a green crayon and titles his drawing, just like he’d learned in art class:

Mommy, Daddy, and Harris. 

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[enderwoah]

worst part about being a fanfic writer for mcyt is the sheer amount of drama that gets placed onto absolute goddamn nonsense 'cause why did i watch charlie's stream today and go like "wow the effects this must have on juanaflippa's trauma must be absolutely absurd, she's essentially been handed a weapon and has been shown that she has to protect herself from people that can and will come after her. her father wants to protect her but he isn't strong enough, he doesn't have enough, he makes deals with people stronger than him to try and make up for his weakness and ineptitude. mariana left her, starving, for days. her home is not safe. her secret room isn't really a secret. she must fend for herself at such a young age, i can only imagine what she looks like at night in her bed, sealed up in that room, trembling under her sheets and clutching her weapon because she knows someone is pulling at the bookcase, pushing up the trapdoor, swinging a pickaxe into the wall to break in and kill her, and she can only pray that her reflexes are fast enough despite her shot nerves to save herself before her life is taken away."

and then im like. juanaflippa is an egg. charlie made a deal with the literal devil to give her a Glock. this sentient egg that can hold a gun despite not having hands like a freaking veggietales character shot Philza Minecraft in the gut when he tried to kill it. this is minecraft. lord.

#qsmp #qsmpblr #mcytblr #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #juanaflippa #el mariana #this is awful #philza minecraft #philza #1k #2k #enderwhat

[vivantesopvles]

‘You must want something,’ Tom said, sidling up to Harry, who had donned an apron and was frying eggs at the hob. ‘Come on, I said I’d repay you for what you did at the Ministry. It’s not everyday that I’m in the mood for decency.’

Harry snorted. ‘Shocking, that.’

He did a little flourishing motion with his wand; in no time came the sound of espresso being made, and milk being steamed. He floated two slices of toast into the toaster, then checked the eggs.

He was doing a very good job at ignoring Tom, which was unacceptable – as much as Tom loved watching him go about his morning routine. So Tom drew close enough to press himself up against Harry’s back, hugging his waist, the way Harry liked it.

And Harry, unsurprisingly, turned red.

‘This, for example,’ Tom said softly. ‘You must know I can give you more. You won’t have to want for things ever again.’

‘And I suppose you’re doing this right now for reasons entirely selfless?’

Tom grinned down into Harry’s hair. Other than it being Harry’s birthday, which Harry himself seemed to have forgotten entirely, Tom also did intend to keep Harry sweet for his plans to work.

To Harry’s credit, he was a hard nut to crack. Tom can’t remember spending as much time wooing someone – not even to bed; Harry hardly trusted him with the weekly shopping. It was fortunate, perhaps, he knew just how to distract him.

‘Maybe … maybe not. But on a similar note,’ Tom continued, keeping his voice low and suggestive, ‘I’m told I give quite spectacular head.’

‘How’s that even relevant?’ Harry choked out. He squirmed a little in Tom’s arms, a token attempt to break himself free. ‘Riddle, are you trying to seduce me?’

‘Hmm … seduce would suggest an intention to lead astray, though.’ Tom chose to let his hands wander then, light and innocent down Harry’s stomach. ‘Is that what you want? An excuse to run away from everything whilst being thoroughly disavowed? Well, I can always kidnap you, if you ask nicely.’

He hadn’t expected it, but his words must’ve hit too close to home. Because Harry spun around, a curious mixture of anger and embarrassment on his face.

‘Is that a threat or a very bad attempt at psychoanalysis?’ he retorted, swatting off Tom’s hands and taking a step back. ‘You were doing such a good job just now, with the sweet-talking and whatnot. Pity you couldn’t keep up the act for more than five minutes.’

‘I suppose I’ll just have to try harder, then. It’s your birthday after all,’ Tom said placidly. He was enjoying this a bit too much, he realised; winding Harry up, watching him get defensive, or even better, flustered.

He went and plated Harry’s breakfast, slathering his toast with an absurd amount of butter, poured milk into his coffee and drew a little heart in the foam with magic. When he was done, he found Harry staring at him, visibly shaken.

Tom smiled. ‘We could start with holding hands if you’d like – it’d only just occurred to me that you might be a prude.’

08052024 | @microficmay | will

#microficmay2024 #tomarrymort #tomarry #harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle/harry potter #tomarry fanfic

[tossawary]

For a while, I kept periodically thinking about F/M Wangxian (Male Wei Wuxian and Female Lan Wangji) without being able to figure out why I kept being distracted by F/M Wangxian. I mean, I think different genderbending AU situations are fun to think about in fanfiction, especially in worlds where gender roles are a problem. M/M, F/M, M/F, and F/F Wangxian all change the story slightly and I think it's neat to explore why and how.

And obviously, F!LWJ would be a total babe, that's nice to think about, but why still M!WWX and not F!WWX? F!WWX would also be a total babe, though of a different type, especially as the Yiling Patriarch. But my brain kept insisting that M!WWX was still crucial somehow and I couldn't figure out why that setup.

I mean, it is funny to think about how M!WWX's unchanged flirty behavior in their teenage years would suddenly set off every single alarm bell in the Cloud Recesses due to people being able to SEE IT thanks to heteronormativity goggles. WWX with a degree of societal permission to be romantically interested in Lan Wangji? Intolerable levels of annoying. Unbearable to witness. Singing love songs under her balcony type bullshit like he wants her to start another fight under the moonlight. He's writing her poetry (clever "joke" poems bordering on innuendo and actual romantic poems) and has the gall to be good at it. Lan Qiren is barely resisting the urge to beat WWX off with a broomstick. Lan Xichen doesn't know whether to be horrified or delighted (LWJ is bluuuuushing).

I do also like the idea of WWX coming back from the dead and finding out that the common people have decided in the past decade (thanks to the heteronormativity goggles) that the noble female cultivator LWJ had a Tragic Romance with the Evil Yiling Patriarch. Poor woman! WWX: "Who had a what now?" (I do also like the idea of Wangxian actually having a Tragic Romance during and after the war. And mutually stated romantic interest and affection still didn't fix anything for them. But it's funny to think about WWX getting completely blindsided by this EPIC LOVE STORY if there was no actual relationship.)

(Sizhui is still adopted here! Noble and pure-hearted LWJ adopted a war orphan because she longed to be a mother but swore never to love again after the Yiling Patriarch broke her heart, obviously! WWX, listening to this gossip: "She what? I mean, Lan Zhan would make an amazing mom, good for her, lucky kid, and no one is good enough for her if she doesn't want to get married, but seriously, I cannot stress this enough, what the fuck. She didn't like me back! Aiyah, I bet she's still so mad at me for ruining her reputation like this.")

Eventually, I realized that the key piece of this AU that I was missing was that I wanted to write F/M Wangxian that turned into F/F Wangxian. Because I think Transfem Wei Wuxian would display (and I mean this affectionately) the most ridiculous trans egg behavior imaginable, especially because it would lean more towards one of those "I was mostly fine living as a guy, but I'm so much happier as a girl" situations. Absurd amounts of queer foreshadowing.

So, Wei Wuxian gets resurrected into a female MXY's body or something and obliviously goes, "Oh! This is nice! I've always wanted to try being a woman! Yes, I can roll with this." And eventually Wei Wuxian has to actually examine the fact that she really likes being a woman and doesn't want to "go back" to being a man in any way, but not before putting Lan Wangji through an incredible amount of new "joke" flirtation. And people who knew WWX before are like... "Hmm. Some things are making sense now."

Things like: 1) As a teenager, WWX insisted that LWJ was such a strong woman that, if they got married, LWJ could be "the husband" and "he" would happily be "the wife". There were lots and lots of "I want to live as Jiejie's spoiled wife" jokes. Consequently, at the Cloud Recesses, at least one outrageously inappropriate joke was made by WWX about LWJ knocking "him" up, because WWX's breeding kink is still very much a thing. WWX didn't know about her breeding kink when she made that joke; both she and LWJ learned something about themselves that day.

2) Wei Wuxian would frequently pull crossdressing-related pranks saying: "Wow, this is crazy. I can't believe you guys are forcing me to put on a dress and all this makeup for this prank! You guys are wild!" And Jiang Cheng would reply: "No one is forcing you to do this. No one dared you. You suddenly volunteered to crossdress for a prank that does not require crossdressing AGAIN. Also, give me that brush, I'll do your makeup because you suck ass at it."

3) WWX would frequently go on rants about how women are so much more beautiful than men, which flew under the radar as a "normal behavior for a lustful young man", but there was always something a little off about it. Like, WWX might say that women are so beautiful and perfect that everyone would choose to be one if allowed to pick before being born just to admire the gorgeous view, and JC might say, "I don't think that's quite right...?" But WWX would just say something like (like an obnoxious teenage sibling), "That's because you know that you'd make an ugly woman!" or, "Are you saying that women aren't perfect? Also, are you saying Shijie isn't the best person in the world?" And JC would have to be like, "I didn't say that! And I'd make a beautiful woman, fuck you! Also, how is that relevant to your point?"

By the end of this AU, there is at least one public love confession that is horribly embarrassing for everyone else to witness, in which Wei Wuxian has finally realized that LWJ used to be in love with "him" and that she loves LWJ back, but tearfully apologizes because she can't be the handsome man that LWJ loved anymore. Even if she could be a man again, she still doesn't want to stop being a woman, even if she's not very good at it yet. She can't perform the required husbandly duties like provide a good home for LWJ! She can't father LWJ's children anymore!

(Jiang Cheng: "Do you have to do this now?! Stop being indecent! There are children here. Also, we're all being held hostage.")

But it's all cool! Because shortly after realizing WWX was back and determined to live as a woman, LWJ speedran a sexuality crisis, flipped a mental switch, and essentially went, "I'm a lesbian now." (Or maybe LWJ was really confused about being attracted to WWX when they first met, because LWJ had only been physically attracted to her fellow female disciples up until then, so WWX seemed like the "exception", until WWX comes back from the dead as a woman and then it's like, "Ah. Not an exception after all.")

#transfem wei wuxian au #tossawary mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs genderbending au #fic ideas

[kelsonius]

What I find really interesting about Dungeon Meshi is how it explores the role of humans/humanoids in an ecosystem and what is okay to consume.

Take the kelpie for example. Senshi is attached to the kelpie that frequently joins him while he's fishing, even naming her. Marcille also thinks it's cute and supports the idea of Senshi riding it. After that doesn't turn out well Senshi apologises while delivering the killing blow, appearing remorseful. Nevertheless, he himself sets out to salvage usable ingredients from the now deceased kelpie and even Marcille uses some of its fat for soap.

That is an example of exactly the type of relationship I think humans should have with livestock animals. I'm mostly vegan (occasional exceptions made for fish and eggs) both because of the environmental and animal rights issues with large scale livestock farming/the meat industry. However, I very much support a harmonious approach shown by indigenous peoples and small scale farming for example. Where, similar to Senshi and the kelpie, the animal lives a good life and is loved by its keepers until it is killed and all its parts are utilised.

There is also something to be said about people's involvement in the slaughter of animals so they respect the origin of their favourite products, like Marcille with the soap, since that is likely one of the reasons people currently consume animal products in such copious amounts. I regrettably didn't save the post in my drafts, but I saw someone on here talk about how far removed we are in the west from the origin of our meat products and how absurd it is that people are disgusted by a fish served with its head for example.

Meanwhile, Laios and Chilchuck are arguing over whether it's okay to eat a fish-man since it resembles a humanoid. Laios naturally wants to eat everything but Chilchuck has reservations when it comes to humanoids. This comes up in later episodes as well, where the rest of the crew appears to have fewer reservations since the creatures are being killed in self-defense and they're now seeing the utility of not letting resources go to waste.

Now I wonder if they'll take it as far as cannibalism, but humanoids are already a close metaphor. In any case, it is a great way to showcase how the arbitrary values we attribute to different species influences what we consider to be acceptable food, even though it's all just meat. I mean, I could never slaughter a cat for example but somehow would be fine with eating human flesh...

#honerable mention for Senshi's comments to never exhaust a food source #episode 7 #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #Senshi #Marcille #Laios #Chilchuck #utility #veganism #vegetarianism #livestock #meat industry #cannibalism #long post #ecosystem #queue #kelsonius op

[merakiui]

Azul who enchants a pussy pocket since it's mating season and he's too shy and nervous to ask reader. So he stuffs the reader with his eggs using the pussy pocket.

I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense, had a bit of trouble organizing my thoughts lol

This is the ideal solution to so many of Azul’s problems. He doesn’t have to show you his mer form, nor does he have to look biologically and emotionally vulnerable in front of you when he’s caught up in mating season heats. And he can also pump you full of eggs without having to actually look at you. He’s much more confident when he’s alone. One day he’ll gain the courage to show you his true form and one day another mating season will roll around in which he’ll finally take you into his arms and fuck you without the distance separating you or the help from the magical pussy pocket.

But for now, baby steps. He’ll make progress with you one day, but for now he’ll do it from the shadows.

Maybe you’re sleeping or maybe you’re in public or maybe you’re even working your shift at the lounge. No matter where you are and what you’re doing, the moment you feel fingers thrust up inside your pussy to stretch it in preparation for something, you nearly double over, curl into yourself, crumple… it’s a sensation that takes you by surprise, leaving you gasping and grasping for something to squeeze or hold so you can properly brace yourself and figure out what’s going on.

Maybe you try to ignore it, assuming it’s just a passing feeling. But then it persists and you’re quickly falling apart, sweating so much, chewing your lip bloody to keep any salacious sounds from slipping out. If you thought the fingers were unbearable, it’s when they’re removed and the tapered tip of something pokes at your hole that you begin to realize this is far from any fleeting feeling.

Azul’s so desperate in his pool, far past the point of keeping his composure, and he’s impatient to release his clutch. So he’s a little rough when he thrusts his hectocotylus so deeply, not entirely thinking of whether or not you can truly take so much of it. But he does imagine your expression, how you’d sound, what you might say, and even the little tummy bulge as it presses up against areas a normal human cock could never hope to reach. And it’s so tight and warm and wet inside you; he’s a mess, his pace hasty and determined. He doesn’t have the foresight to pretend like he isn’t affected; he’s a moaning mess under the water as he ruts into you, the tentacle thrust so far that it kisses your cervix. <3

There’s no time beneath the water. Not that it’s important at this moment. Not truly. Azul’s so focused on base desires, brought down to such a primal level by his own biological imperative, and so maybe it’s been hours of fucking or maybe it’s only been minutes. But eventually, finally, he’s filled you with enough slick to keep the eggs safe and sound. He’s flustered about the idea, about seeing you so round and full of him the next time he crosses paths with you. Maybe you’ve already guessed he’s responsible. Or maybe you have no idea, too confused and pleasured to think that far ahead.

He doesn’t count the eggs as they’re deposited in the depths of your womb. Rather, he just fucks, mindless and instinctual, until every last one has made its home inside you. It’s not an absurd amount—although by human standards it would surely be—but it’s just enough for now. In the future, he’ll turn you into a mer, keep you in the Coral Sea, and give you a larger clutch when he knows your body can handle it.

Azul could have painted you a dozen ways in his brilliant mind, but no amount of fantasy could prepare him for just how pretty you look when the twins guide you into his VIP room and you’ve just managed to squeeze yourself into a uniform, so round already. He has bad news for you; you’ll only get bigger as the eggs grow and the fry within mature. Hungrier, too. And moodier. And more hormonal. Mers fuck a lot when they’re pregnant. And when it comes time to lay, necessary preparations will need to be made… there’s so much to look forward to. So much planning. But he’s immensely happy, and he tries not to let it show while you, flustered and teary-eyed, try to explain your predicament while the twins leer.

Maybe you don’t need to know yet. For now, he’s just pleased to have overcome this mating season. And he has a family to look forward to, hoping most of them survive hatching, that is. But for now he’s happy. And you will be, too. Eventually.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: oviposition #meraki faves

[alastor-the-demon]

Salutations!

My name is Alastor, but you already knew that. I'm the Radio Demon, after all. This RP blog is based off Alastor the Radio Demon from Hazbin Hotel. This blog is not affiliated with Vivziepop or Prime Video in any way.

TW TW TW:

This blog contains a lot of blood, angst, violence, and some references to adult topics. There are no direct NSFW statements, but things might be referenced lightly. There will be no swearing on this blog due to personal reasons and morals, but reblogs could contain swearing

Due to this, I have rated MY blog as 13+, due to infrequent and vague references. I CANNOT say this about the other blogs in the fandom or the 1Z universe

Rules:

No NSFW asks. Mod is a minor

No being disrespectful to any specific groups

No asks that could be offensive

Magic anons are allowed, but not back-to-back

Don't ask Alastor to marry you

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Mod speaking: [Example]

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[glorious-spoon]

17 and/or 28?

hello nonnie! i went with 28: surprising them with their favorite treat. love is stored in the kitchen, etc.

-

"No, no, I'm not doing it for you," Abuela says, swatting his arm lightly with her dishtowel in that way that makes Eddie feel like he's taken a step backward through time, back to the sunny little kitchen in the house she sold three years ago to move back to Texas, back to being eight years old again and hanging around while she baked, even though he was supposed to be too old for all that by then. She's frailer now, but her eyes are just as sharp as she folds Eddie's fingers back around the egg he's trying to hand to her. "You're never going to learn if I do it for you."

"We're going to run out of eggs before I get it right at this point," he complains. They've gone through three already, the yolks broken and bleeding into the whites and therefore useless.

"You can use them to make a frittata. Or an omelet. Something. They won't go to waste."

He squints at her. "Was that a metaphor?"

"Come on, come on. Josephina is picking me up in an hour, if you want this cake to happen it's got to happen now."

"I could just buy one," Eddie says halfheartedly, like this whole enterprise wasn't his idea in the first place. God knows why. He's managed to drag himself a good few steps above boxed mac and cheese in the cooking department, but baking remains an intimidating mystery. It's not like he couldn't just buy one. It's Los Angeles. Plenty of places local to find tres leches cake, even if it won't be his abuela's recipe.

She probably would have made him one herself if he asked. Almost definitely would have. But once he got the idea in his head it felt—important, like Buck's laborious perfecting of the lasagna he's planning to make for them tomorrow, like Bobby's home-cooked meals at the station. Something about doing it himself.

Something about home-cooked meals, and about love, that it's definitely too early to say to Buck, at least in so many words. But he kind of wants to say it all the same.

He cracks the egg—gently, this time. The glistening yellow yolk remains intact, cradled in one half of the shell as the white slides away into the bowl beneath. Eddie holds his breath, holding his hand still until the separation is complete, feeling more than a little bit like he's defusing a bomb here. Then he finally drops the yolk into its own separate bowl with a feeling of absurd triumph.

Abuela squeezes him with a startling amount of strength for a woman who's more than a few years past eighty, but her voice is very gentle. "Perfect, Eddito. Now we just need four more like that."

Eddie breathes out a shaky laugh and reaches for another egg.

-

By six o'clock, Pepa is on her way over and the cake is cooling in the refrigerator, waiting for the leches mixture—the counter wiped clean, Abuela installed in a dining room chair sipping a cafecito from one of the little red cups that she bequeathed to Eddie when she moved away. They talk about inconsequential things: Christopher, his dad's retirement, his parents' tentative plans for a cruise, which makes Eddie wince and bite his tongue. Christopher again. Buck's name comes up, because of course it does, it always has. For years he's been so entwined with their lives that there's no way to talk about Eddie and Christopher for any length of time without mentioning Buck.

It feels more revealing now. Or maybe that's just that now Eddie knows there's something to reveal.

He's not trying to hide it. It's new, but he's never felt so sure about something in his life. He just doesn't know quite how to go about saying it; any of the words he can come up with feel too clumsy, too inadequate.

It's not until Pepa's car pulls in the driveway that she leans over to pat his hand where it's resting on the table. "He's going to love it. Tu novio, he'll be so happy you baked that just for him."

"That's assuming I don't mess anything else up," Eddie says, and then registers the rest of that sentence. Your boyfriend. His heart stutters for a moment, but settles fast. She's still smiling at him.

"You won't," she says.

He breathes out; laughs a little, breathless. "How did you know?"

"I'm old and wise," she says puckishly. Then, gentler, "You talk about him like you're in love."

Outside, the car door opens and shuts. Pepa starts up the walk. Eddie takes another breath, and nods. He feels a little flayed open, but it's a good feeling, to be seen like this. A little raw, but good. "I am. I—really am."

Abuela slides out of her chair and holds out her arms; Eddie folds into them like he's not a head taller than her these days. They're still standing like that, swaying a little, when Pepa comes in.

-

Buck is over the next night for dinner, a frequent if irregular occurrence whenever they both have the same evening off. They don't actually cook together, because Buck is kind of a control freak in the kitchen, but Eddie sets the table with Chris's sullen adolescent assistance, and puts on some music, and he remembers as he does it those evenings when he'd see his grandparents dancing together in the kitchen after dinner, the easy sway of their bodies. He's half-tempted to try and pull Buck into a dance, but right now Buck is frazzled and wearing an apron splattered with béchamel as he swears under his breath at the lasagna, so Eddie can wait.

It all comes out perfectly, because of course it does, and Eddie kisses him after he sets it down on the table, ignoring Chris's disgruntled noise. Buck smiles against his lips and kisses him back.

"Smells amazing," Eddie offers.

"It only took me five tries to get it right."

"Well, I appreciate you not burning my kitchen down."

"You're not funny," Buck pouts, but he leans in for another kiss.

"I'm starving," Chris says pointedly, and they break apart, laughing.

"You forget how to serve yourself, mijo?"

"No," Chris says, but he's smirking a little as he dishes himself a generous helping of lasagna and passes the spatula over to Eddie.

It's not that different, all told, from any of the other meals they've had together over the years. That's something that keeps tripping Eddie up: how little has actually changed. Other than the part where he's allowed to touch Buck as much as he wants now; other than the fact that he lets himself notice how much he wants.

For Chris's sake, he's discreet about it, but he curls his hand over Buck's knee under the table once they're all served. Buck ducks his head and smiles, a pretty flush dusting his cheeks, and Eddie leaves his hand there for the rest of the meal.

They clean up together, and Buck insists on helping even when Eddie tries to shoo him out of the kitchen, though he honestly doesn't try that hard. Chris escapes into the dining room when Buck pulls Eddie into a shuffling, impromptu dance to some Taylor Swift song on the radio—he must have stealthily changed the station when Eddie wasn't paying attention—but he ducks his head back in a few minutes later to ask if they're going to eat the cake.

"There's cake?" Buck asks, bemused.

"Tres leches," Eddie admits, and now he's blushing. "Abuela's recipe."

"You got Isabel to make me tres leches?" Buck asks, looking delighted.

"Okay, okay, it's not just for you—"

"Dad made it," interjects Chris, the traitor. "Can we please eat it now?"

Now Buck's expression has gone all soft, so sparkling and warm that Eddie can barely look directly at it. "You made me a cake?"

"You cooked dinner," Eddie counters, crossing over to open the fridge and pull the covered pan out. The whipped cream isn't in those graceful swirls that his abuela always did, but he's pretty sure it'll taste okay. It all looks okay, anyway. "Don't worry, I had supervision. It's probably edible."

"It looks amazing," Buck says, but he's not looking at the cake; he's looking at Eddie. Eddie tries to duck his head, and Buck catches his chin before he can manage it, and kisses him. It lingers sweetly for a moment, and then he grins and pulls away. "You made me a cake."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie says, and thinks, I love you, I love you.

He doesn't say it out loud, not yet. But by the way Buck is beaming at him, Eddie thinks maybe he got it all the same.

#911 #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #isabel diaz #christopher diaz #prompt fic #my fic

[cellgatinbo]

the whole chaos group fucking around doing flippa's egg quests and just fucking dying laughing at each one. "bake a pie"? simple right? they were singing "pie pie pie pie pie" for an absurd amount of time. "write a story"? the penis swells hard. kidding! "place funny blocks at spawn" just the THOUGHT of that had them near collapsing laughing. flippa's placing bedrock and other creative blocks and just no one cares. also dorime's playing. i hav etears in my eyes

#qsmp

[seakicker]

you are so weird for wanting merman childe to knock you up full with his eggs. that’s literally so gross. please don’t describe in great, exact detail how big his merman dick is, the shape, if it curves, the colour, how much cum he can produce, does he even produce cum or just eggs and how big his cum and/or eggs would make you. that and knowing how he feels about knocking you up with merbabies would really, really make me upset.

afab + gn reader, oviposition, breeding, pregnancy, and monsterfucking below!

i am absurd for wanting a massive clutch of merman childe's eggs nestled safe and sound in my womb, you're right. i'd like you to consider merchilde with a prehensile cock because that just fits mermen so well in my opinion... what's better than a cock that's essentially a tentacle exploring your holes, prodding at every last sensitive spot inside of you with pinpoint precision in a way a human cock can't, and slithering through your folds just to make you squirm from the strange, slimy sensation rubbing against the most delicate part of your body?

his cock typically rests safe and sound inside of a slit on his crotch when unaroused, but when it's mating season or when he gets horny (or when you otherwise unknowingly arouse him bc boy do i love the idea of a human reader accidentally initiating some kind of merfolk mating custom), it emerges from that slit and grows nice and big in preparation to fill you with eggs. it's the same color as his tail -- i like to imagine a deep cyan -- and has a thick, thick base. that girth gradually tapers off the closer you get to the tip, which is nice and thin and small enough to trace perfectly around your clit.

see, i like the idea of childe being able to make cum and eggs so his babies are just a little batch of mini-childes with all of his genetic information-- you're just an incubator and nothing more in this sort of scenario since you're not supplying any genetic material yourself. i like the idea of humans being used as incubators... he hypothesizes that a single merman being able to supply the eggs and the sperm is some way of ensuring a successful breeding since the ocean is a little more cutthroat, unsafe, and cruel than human life is; it's easier to create offspring when it only takes one being and when mermen produce far more eggs than the amount that'll actually make it to full-term. the cum's a lot different from human cum, though... it's colder, slimier/runnier, and he makes much more of it than humans do. it's only natural when he has multiple eggs to fertilize-- humans really only have to worry about one egg at a time; twins or other sets of multiples are the exception, not the rule!

and oh, is he delighted to take advantage of how shocked holding so many babies at one time makes your body feel. he knows that human bodies are typically used to one child at a time, so when he manages to pump 10 or so eggs (a typical clutch size for his species, he explains) in you at one time? he's just delighted by how beautifully you swell and how easy it is to reduce you to a breathless, shaky mess because of the intense amount of effort it takes to carry such a heavy tummy around all day. it's unlikely that all ten make it to full term because of crowding and just general shell weakness, but it doesn't matter-- you're guaranteed to have a clutch of at least four when they're ready to lay. i like to imagine they have a soft, jellylike shell and are birthed just like that; they hatch on their own outside of the body. you're just there to keep 'em warm until they're ready to crack!

#merchilde my love #merman childe #merman tartaglia #spicy #juju bakery #cw oviposition #cw breeding #cw pregnancy #tartaglia smut #childe smut #afab reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; largesse (pt II)

For the prompt: Gabe and Stephen being sappy at SOME point

Follows this.

Early on, Gabe worries he’s wrong about his 'Stephen loves holidays' thesis: Easter’s during Passover that year, and neither of them do anything for it, unless you count Stephen buying a few bags of mini eggs from the drug store when they go on clearance after, and Gabe doesn’t. At this point mini eggs are entirely secular — they’re not even a seasonal thing. Gabe saw a Christmas edition of them a few months back, though he’s not sure how eggs are supposed to be involved in Christmas. Maybe another gift for Santa? Cookies and milk aren't a very well-balanced diet, some eggs can't hurt.

But then Mother’s Day arrives, and while Gabe orders his mom flowers, Stephen leans over him, sighing about needing to get his mom something, but not flowers, because his mom doesn’t like flowers, she always makes things difficult, why can’t she just like what everyone else does. This is the third straight day of their annual tradition of brainstorming what to get Anouk — twice annual tradition, actually, it comes up on her birthday too, and probably at Christmas, now that Gabe’s thinking about it, it’s just that Stephen worries about what to get everyone for Christmas, with the exception of Gabe and his parents, and that’s just because he worries about what to get them for Hannukah instead.

And then Father’s Day comes around, and Stephen goes through the exact same process for getting Johan a gift. Then Beth’s birthday, and that Stephen pretends not to care about at all, but then gets her and Anna tickets to a Taylor Swift concert in Toronto that summer, and Gabe’s pretty sure securing those involved either a sizeable amount of time, money, or both.

Gabe’s not proud to say it takes until Johan’s birthday in October to really click into place. Obviously he’s had some suspicions, or he wouldn’t have been observing Stephen��s demeanour so closely, but honestly, he does that as a matter of course — it’s easier than listening to what Stephen says about how he’s feeling, which is usually not true. And that’s if he’s even willing to talk about it, which isn't likely.

Once again, Stephen’s bitching about how hard it is to buy things for his dad, who is, admittedly, not an easy man to find gifts for, and Gabe finally sees right all the way through Stephen's ‘why is gift giving so frequent, it’s absurd’ speech to the fact that it’s honestly not hard to find a gift for someone if you don’t give a shit whether they like it.

Stephen apparently gives so many shits. Innumerable shits. So Gabe figures he can help him out a bit. Do some research, attempt to make a list.

“I doubt most of them are up to snuff, because, you know, Johan,” Gabe says, waving a hand in a way he’s concerned to notice is an accidental but dead on impression of his mother, “But maybe one or two of them will work.”

“Gabe,” Stephen says, looking up from the list.

“It’s nothing,” Gabe says. “Something to do on the road.”

“You printed it out,” Stephen says.

“Seemed easier,” Gabe says. “But I’ll email it to you as well.”

“And colour coordinated it,” Stephen says.

“It was a boring roadie,” Gabe says, though the end of it is kind of breathless, because Stephen’s crushing the air out of his lungs.

“Thank you,” Stephen mumbles, and Gabe brings a hand up to card through his hair.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

~

The packages start arriving two days later.

Gabe sighs, pushing aside two boxes with his foot so he can unlock the door, grabbing one under each arm to bring inside. One of them’s heavy for its size. Probably the knife set.

“Oh good,” Stephen says, looking up from his laptop as Gabe stacks the packages on top of all the other ones in the living room. “I was getting concerned that those weren’t coming.”

“Stephen,” Gabe says. “You can’t give your dad seventeen gifts for his birthday. He’ll just be disappointed every other year.”

And Gabe did say it was nothing, but that list took him two flights, three breakfasts, a dinner, and the recommendations of half the Canucks and most of the support staff, with dads receiving special consideration, to make.

“I can, however, not have to worry about what to get him for the next five years,” Stephen says gleefully.

Gabe sees trouble coming.

“I’m not making a list for everyone,” Gabe says.

“Gabe,” Stephen whines.

“No way,” Gabe says, taking this as a cue to retreat. “You’re on your own.”

“Gabe,” Stephen says, closing his laptop to trail him out of living room. “Please?”

~

The Canucks, unfortunately, are much less helpful when it comes to what to get middle-aged women. Gabe is disappointed but unsurprised.

“You lose a bet, Marksy?” Coach asks when Gabe brings the question to him. He’s married to one, which likely gives him an edge over the Canucks, who Gabe's learned are all a bunch of terrible sons. Well, other than Bullet. The majority of the ideas he does have on this list are just him trying to keep up with Bullet’s stream-of-consciousness.

“Something like that,” Gabe says, and adds his suggestion for a shawl. Sure, it’s already on the list, but it’s never smart to piss off the guy who controls how many minutes you get.

"My wife likes candles too," Coach says. "The ones that smell up the place."

Stephen can't stand scented candles, and Gabe's almost positive he got that from his mom, but Gabe adds it to the list anyway. It'd serve Stephen right to get a faulty list, and maybe he won't be forced to make one for Beth and Anna if he does a purposefully bad job.

Gabe waits until Coach is long gone, and then he makes sure to scribble those ideas out. Sure, he'll probably remember, and Stephen would probably notice even if he didn't, but, well.

May as well get Anouk something nice.

#fic snippet #SOTM #gabe markson #stephen petersen