#swamp and sensiblity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alizalayne · 2 months

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Whats the ventilation and heat like in the suit head? I can't tell if it would be warmer or more cool to wear in compaison to a faux fur fursuit head. The only thing I worry abt is how durable needlefelting is and if it can be cleaned like a traditional fursuit head. That being said I really hope you continue making these, they're cool as hell 👍🔥👍

Okay first of all I'm super jazzed to be able to talk about this with people, and I kind of went overboard answering this, but thanks for asking! Putting this up in case anyone else is curious.

The main answers to your questions are 1: wool is cooler than acrylic fur and less stinky

2: A fursuit head is a swamp and i am snorkling in it.

I mentioned this in my behind the scenes post and there are pictures there but I literally just made a snorkel out of a snorkel mouthpiece and two collapsible automotive funnels, the kind that you can bend into a shape so that you can get goo into a weird part of your car.

that snorkel piece goes straight out of a vent hole in the inside of the ear and I felted a pink skin flap in front of it and then felted white fiber into that so it just looked like a tuft. it worked perfectly, it's just that I couldn't talk in it that well. But I'm definitely going to keep using it if I can't think of a better mouthpiece for it because as SOON as I breathed inside the head instead of through the snorkel I was like oh my god everyone is living in hell.

You can see it in this picture a little bit. nobody noticed it at all!

My friend had made a much more traditional head with a bigass electric fan in it and he was having more heat issues than I was, because I cannot stress enough that acrylic fur is like, one of the most horrifically hot fabrics you can wear. I don't know how everybody is even alive!! and there's a layer of ACRYLIC BACKING on it! Also check out how "short-pile" my fur is, most of the head is only an inch thick, it's a half-inch bucket head made out of foam covered in maybe 1/3 of an inch of wool? the less space you have between the fibers the less heat gets trapped. I was shocked by how comfortable I was, and I was having migraine symptoms that day and was extra sensitive to heat. The con where we were had the air turned down and it was chilly outside, but I was shocked when I took the head off and shook my hair out and I wasn't even sweating. I had long hair in a wig cap under that thing and I wasn't sweating. It was crazy.

As for cleaning the wool, I cannot find anyone else who has done this who has cleaning tips for me, but the foam is what I'm worried about. After a few hours of wear there's nothing wrong with the wool at all, but i can TELL the foam is ever so slightly nasty, because the foam is polyurethane and wool is what you make hiking socks out of. I have some wool cleaner coming in the mail that's made for delicate needlefelted items like scarves and deposits lanolin, which is what keeps wool "alive" kind of like how you have to care for leather. It's definitely an experiment! Nothing ventured nothing gained!

I don't have an idea in mind for a second head right now and the next thing I want to make is a cowl so I can wear lower-cut tops with this head, but I might try something else if I think of an idea! I'm probably never gonna sell these because I'm weird about selling sculptures for whatever reason. They're like my living beasts.

But I definitely hope this encourages other people who might be interested in bringing needlefelt or other fiber art sensibilities to this space, that would be a massive complement and a high honor to give people a new way to enjoy a hobby that I know means a ton to a lot of people.

#fursuit

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ghost-bxrd · 2 months

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So with Fae!Dick, we all know that Bruce is just… not gonna say anything bc of his own mental health, but do you think the other batkids notice anything once they come along?

On one hand, I think someone would have to notice. If not Jason, then Tim, Steph, Barbara, or Damian bc, well, they’re BATS. They literally have been trained to notice things.

On the other hand, though, I think it would be HILARIOUS if they just attributed Dick’s Fae nature to him just being weird. Like, completely unaware he isn’t human. Maybe not entirely realistic but I think it leaves for some interesting comedic moments 😅

Honestly at one point I think it all devolves into plausible deniability. 😭😂

Jason is the first to notice something amiss, obviously. But he joins Bruce in pretending it‘s just Dick‘s general weirdness. After all, as long as the dog just howls once in a while it’s not necessarily a wolf, right? And Dick, after the initial hang up and trying to kill him a little, is sweet as a summer‘s day to him and viciously protective to boot. Galas and all the rich people there that used to treat Jason like a circus animal aren’t a problem anymore because Dick always swoops in like a bat out of hell and distracts the creepy old ladies with a charming smile until they walk away with vacant eyes. It‘s all pretty funny. And very weird. But hey, Jason gets a laugh out of it and that secretive little grin from Dick so whatever.

Tim I headcanon has Dick all figured out within a month of officially meeting him (the opposite of this would be Tim never figuring it out which is also kinda funny and just attributing it to his circus past or something) and is veeery cautious about interacting with Dick for a time. It makes Dick kind of sad and Tim can only withstand the puppy eyes so long until he caves.

Steph just kinda shrugs and accepts Dick‘s strangeness at face value. It ain’t hurting her so why should she bother? Dick is cool. She likes Dick. End of story, thank you and good day. And yeah, fine, some of his habits are downright weird and everything but who is she to judge? And he‘s always down to cause mischief with her which is?? Super cool???? Even the more devious pranks she can bribe him into joining by handing him a jar of fresh honey or hand picked fruit!! Anybody trying to say shit about Dick lands them on her hit list, period.

Cass is Cass. Nobody can fool her. She may not know what Dick is, but she‘s painfully aware he‘s other. Most wildlife treats him like bees would their queen, there‘s always the scent of pines and rain following him. Dick‘s body language says ‘playful-content-happy’ but his eyes say ‘dark-dangerous-predator’. It’s all very conflicting; a study of contradictions. Cass learns to go by what his body language says and quickly finds a kindred spirit in Dick, who somehow always seems to know exactly what she tries to express but has trouble translating into words.

I headcanon Damian grew up with folklore so while his first theory may not be “fae” he definitely has Dick down as something other than human. Which means he must be powerful. Which means Damian must keep himself in Dick’s good graces in the hopes of making the creature teach him how to be powerful in turn. And, well, the kid grew up with a grandad that regularly takes dips in a magical swimming pool. I don’t think there’s much that can genuinely shock him lol.

Duke is… well, he’s the sensible one so of course he’s the first one to actually ask questions. And then proceeds to go nearly insane because??? Nobody seems to?? Care???? That Dick just rotated his head a full 360°???? Or that the manor sure af isn’t supposed to??? Randomly add hallways???? Or that there’s a whole ass SWAMP that appeared in the basement overnight???? Or a door that leads straight into the forest?????? Duke very nearly nopes the hell out because that’s too much even for him. But finally, finally someone takes pity on him (I headcanon it’s Cass) and she doesn’t explain anything per se, she just kind of… shows Duke. Shows him around the manor, introduces him to twisting halls and strange rooms, takes him to where Dick is lounging with the rest of the family, purring like a content cat. And Duke still doesn’t understand, not completely, but Dick smiles at him with too many, too sharp teeth and tugs him into the huge cuddle pile and?? Are those feathers on his neck?? No, he must have imagined it. Anyway, Duke thinks he can handle this… strangeness, if it scores him a family like this. It’s Gotham, right? Weirder things happen here on the daily.

Omg this turned into a whole ass essay I’m so sorry 😰😅😭✨

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

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here’s a little challenge for you: steve + bucky + reader + one bed. make what you want of it hehe 😇 congrats on 1k, jen! <3

In the middle of the night

AN: Another day, and once again, beds appear to be in short supply. Thank you for this thot, Lyn!

Beta’d by @lfnr-blog-blog-blog, dividers by @firefly-graphics, moodboard and banner by me

Main Master list | Challenge Master list

Summary: What’s worse than sharing a motel room with the supersoldier boyfriends you have a crush on? Having to share a bed with them.

Relationship: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Smidge Angst, Minor miscommunication, pining, teasing, implied smut about to commence.

“Guys, I’ll just take the sofa. I’ll manage.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince them or yourself. It didn’t work though; Bucky just looked at you with his eyebrow raised.

“Really,doll? You might be shorter than us, but you’re not that short.”

He was right, of course. At 5ft 10 you were far too tall for most sofas let alone the one in the room of this ratty motel.

“What do you suggest then? That we all sleep in that?” You nodded your head at it. It being the king sized bed in the middle of the room.

Steve looked up from where he was rummaging through his go bag.

“Seems like the only sensible option to me. Normally we’d offer to sleep on the floor, but…” He eyed what passed for a carpet in the room. You had to agree with him. The chances were that anything placed upon it for any length of time would be carried off by the roaches that were probably living in it. You shuddered at the thought and repressed a gag.

“Well as long as you two keep the mushy stuff to a minimum, I suppose. It’s bad enough when I’ve shared a room with you both before and you’re being all cuddly and shit. Makes a single girl sick.” This time your gag was for comedic effect.

Bucky grinned at you, and in two strides was next to you, arm slung around your shoulder, giving you a slight squeeze.

“Are you just jealous in general, or jealous of one of us, specifically. Wouldn’t blame you; we are both hot.”

“You wish!” You pulled a face and shoved him away. “Now go get a shower, Barnes. You smell of swamp.”

He pouted back, but his light blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Me! What about Stevie! And you, doll. We all fell in that water.”

“Yeah, but you’ve still got swamp weed in your hair.”

You reached up and plucked the offending piece of flora from his chestnut locks then, feeling impish, threw it at Steve. It landed on his shoulder, but he just turned on ‘the Captain glare’ as you and Bucky started giggling like children.

An hour later you were finishing off in the small, and frankly disgusting, bathroom.

Bucky had used it first, scurrying in to escape Steve’s overdramatic ire and you had gone in search of food. When you got back Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his sweats and rubbing his hair dry with a threadbare towel. You threw bags full of food for your two enhanced teammates onto the coffee table.

“Cap in the shower?”

“Yeah - he won’t be too long. I’ve known that guy to have a full shower in less than 2 minutes. And after all these years, I’m still not sure how he does it.”

True to Bucky’s, Steve had stepped out just then, clad in his own sweats, short blond hair sticking up from where he’d given it a quick scrub. Gathering your own wash things and clean clothes to sleep in, you’d slipped around him, trying to ignore the loving look Bucky was throwing at his boyfriend.

Luckily there was enough hot water left for you. The boys wouldn’t have heard the end of it otherwise.

Returning to the bedroom, you mentally prepared yourself for an awful night’s sleep.It was bad enough that you were, once again, sharing a room with two men you had massive crushes on - who only had eyes for each other, this time you’d also be squished on the same bed, no doubt clinging onto the edge of the mattress and trying not to fall out.

The two supersoldiers were already lying in the bed, eyes closed, Bucky being the little spoon to Steve’s big one. They were scootched over so far that you were worried that Steve was about to drop off his side. Gingerly you climbed into the remaining space, your back to Bucky, and you switched off the small lamp they’d left on for you.

Moonlight shone through the thin curtains, casting weak shadows. You tried to relax but found yourself just staring at the strange shapes thrown on the wall in front of you. You could hear both of them breathing.

Slow.

Steady.

Completely fake.

Bucky shifted behind your back, his arm brushing over your ass and hip. If he had been asleep you could have believed it to be accidental. It settled across your waist, a copy of how you imagined Steve’s was lying over his.

“Um…Buck?” You whispered out of habit. “What are you doing?”

“‘S not a lot of space, doll. We need to cosy up, so you and Stevie don’t fall out.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“He’s also like a radiator, sweetheart. And we’ve noticed you don’t like to get cold. Just go with it.” Great. Now Steve was joining in.

“It just feels… you know… weird.” Something about the darkness was making you feel braver than you had in a while. Although that bravery started to wane slightly when Bucky shuffled even closer and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“Whaddya mean ‘weird’? I think it feels nice.”

You flipped over to face him, despite the fact that there was so little light it made the gesture pointless. You were getting frustrated. Both emotionally and sexually.

“Bucky. Your boyfriend is right there, cuddling you, but apparently cuddling me is nice. And for some reason Steve is fine with it.”

The shadows behind Bucky shifted; Steve lifting his head.

“Wanna know why I’m fine with it?”

“Cos you’re secure in your and Bucky’s relationship, and you know this is just practical?”

He chuckled, low and deep, and boy did the sound do things to you. Oh, god! How keen were his senses? Would he be able to smell your arousal?

“Well, yes, but also, no…”

Before you could question him, Bucky’s arm tightened around your waist and suddenly he flipped you both, placing you in the middle of the bed, wedged between him and Steve. Your hands were pressed up against Steve’s chest, his coarse chest hairs tickling your palms. Bucky’s hand was splayed against your stomach, keeping you in place, pressed against him.

“What the hell?”

“We realised something, doll.” Bucky was practically purring in your ear. His hips pressed up against your ass and…oh!

“W-what’s that?” You could barely breathe, frozen rigid in the bed, afraid to move.

Steve wiggled down the bed in front of you, so that your hands were on his shoulders and both your faces were level.

“That you aren’t jealous of either of us when Buck and I are being affectionate. You’re jealous of both of us. You’ve got the hots for both of us.”

You scowled, hoping that despite the low light he could see your annoyance.

“So, what? You decided you’d both tease me. Thanks so much.” You shuffled violently and sat up, kicking off the last part of the coverlet. You pushed up on your knees, but Steve copied you, effectively blocking you.

“We’re not teasing you, sweetheart. Let me finish. Please.”

The bed dipped behind you; Bucky getting to his knees too. Your head was a swirl of emotions. Confusion, want, frustration, and something that might have been hope. Steve took hold of your hands, rubbing his thumbs across the backs of your knuckles.

“We’re trying to tell you… we’ve got the hots for you too.”

“Majorly,” Bucky interjected. “It’s been torture these last few months. Fighting beside you. Sharing a room. You, being so close, but not attainable.” You could feel the heat radiating off him and all you wanted to do was relax back onto his firm chest. And you wanted to believe what they were apparently telling you.

Steve tugged on your hands, pulling you closer to him.

“You can’t begin to imagine how Buck and I have been when we’ve got back to our apartment at the compound after missions with you. How we’ve been so wound up, so goddamn horny thinking about you. Thank goodness for sound-proofing. I think we’ve fucked each other seven ways from Sunday everytime.”

Bucky had moved again; regained his previous spot plastered against your back. Both his hands were settled on your waist, just above your hips. He dipped his head, and his hair brushed your neck before his lips settled just below your ear. Testing you.

“Do you want us, doll?” His lips trailed down your neck and you tilted it to bare your throat to him. Your busy mind had cleared. Now only the want remained. Bucky and Steve were pressed against you in the moonlight, surrounding you with their scent and promising you pleasure. All you had to do was answer.

“Yes!”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow

#Stucky x reader fic #stucky x reader #stucky x you #late writes #jen's 1k follower celebration #jen's 1k challenge #challenge yourself #lyn 🪐

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muppetsource · 8 months

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Kermit the Frog as Crumpet the Frog

AMPHIBIA | 02x05a "Swamp and Sensibility"

bonus:

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jesterwriting · 6 months

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Hello hello Jester!! 🌝💕 I hope you’ve had a lovely day 💕 your works are truly a delight thankcyou so much for sharing!!

Would you perhaps be interested in writing some Crocodile being confessed to by a shy reader? 💕 Thank you for considering either way!

pairing: crocodile x gn!reader

contents: shy!reader, some sexual tension, undertones of crocodile’s not so secret corruption kink, confessions, crocodile calls you ‘mouse’

word count: 1.7k words

note: hi hi omg welcome back to my inbox!! i hope youre having a wonderful day too <33 i am always more than happy to do a crocodile request. that man lives rent free in my mind :3 i hope you enjoy this friend!

playlist: lolita - lana del rey

It was hard to breathe when Crocodile was around.

Not for any sensible reason, mind you. He was an intimidating man. When his shadow fell over the casino, there was a certain tension that was pulled taut. Adoring fans flocked to him, but those who knew better averted their eyes. It wasn’t his steely gaze or his broad shoulders that made your heart pound in your chest when he glanced in your direction, nor was it the prosthetic hook that he rested on his knee while he gambled.

The truth was you were hopelessly in love with him, the kind that made your knees weak and your palms sweat profusely. It had been three months to the day since you met Crocodile, and you had harbored feelings for him ever since.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Casino’s were not your usual haunt — not even close, usually you would find yourself taking up space in the library until it closed — but you needed to step out of your comfort zone. Truthfully, what was considered ‘out of your comfort zone’ was most everything. You were anxious and painfully shy. The world was not built for someone who was unable to stutter out a simple greeting without a sheen of sweat glistening on their forehead. Still, you were determined to have a good night. Alone. With no buffer between you and the sea of people that threatened to drown you. The idea definitely didn’t terrify you right down to your marrow.

You entered the casino and were immediately swamped by a cacophony of activity. Cheers mingled with cries of despair, and fancy looking drinks were clinked together in promise. Hoards of people swarmed towards the center where the slot machines were. The lights cast the room in a yellow haze, and if you strained your ears, you could hear the lightbulbs buzz. You felt dizzy. As if in autopilot, your feet made their way to the far wall, away from the crowd. It had barely been three seconds and you were already regretting showing up.

“You look lost,” A voice rumbled next to you, slightly condescending. When you glanced over, you had to do a double take. Next to you, stood the imposing form of Sir Crocodile, Warlord of the Sea. You wished now more than ever that you had stayed home with your cats.

You parted your lips, mouth drier than the desert you lived in. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t maintain eye contact, your pupils darting from Crocodile’s face to his chest to his hook then back to his face. You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeves, swallowing hard over the lump in your throat.

“S-Sorta,” You finally choked out.

Crocodile hummed. “What’s a little mouse like you doing here?”

You watched the cherry of his cigar glow red before a cloud of smoke billowed from his lips. Unable to think of anything else to say, you went with the first words you could think of, mixed together with an awkward chuckle. “Oh. You know.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

Crocodile sounded unamused. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, drinking up every inch of you from your head to your shoes. You wished you didn’t wear long sleeves. For some reason, you felt like there was magna running through your veins. The room was far too hot for you to stand.

You laughed, gaze focused solely on your shoes. “Well, I just wanted to get out of the house.”

“So you come to a casino?”

“I guess so.”

Cold metal touched the bottom of your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered and your throat bobbed as Crocodile’s hook tilted your head up to face him. When your eyes met his, a split second glimmer of amusement caught your attention. Gently, he tapped your right cheek with his hook. The unspoken order was obeyed readily. You moved your head to one side and then the next as Crocodile inspected you, following the prosthetic slowly as your heart hammered in your chest.

What the hell was happening?

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You squeaked. “Okay.”

The sharp point of his hook pressed into the flesh of your cheek. With a gasp, your eyes darted to meet his, earning you a smirk as a reward. “Good.”

Butterflies fluttered against the lining of your stomach. If there was one thing you wanted to hear for the rest of your life, it was Crocodile’s praise. Whatever you did in the future, as long as Sir Crocodile said you were ‘good’ again, you’d consider your life a success.

Your lips twitched into a small smile, head full of warm, fuzzy static. “Thank you.”

A shrill scream jolted your mind out of whatever sludge it found itself in. A hoard of people had begun to gather, all of them clamoring for Crocodile’s attention. You felt very small all of a sudden, but that could also be because the man next to you was over eight feet tall. Crocodile’s expression hardened into annoyance.

“Come back here next week, mouse. Same time. Don’t be late,” He said before dissipating into sand, gone as if he was never there to begin with.

You stood, dumbfounded among the disappointed group of people, all looking for the man you were talking to only seconds before. That entire interaction had to be a dream. It couldn’t have been real.

It wasn’t until someone bumped into you, knocking you to the ground, did the pain shock you to reality.

You were personally invited to spend time with the Sir Crocodile. The ghost of his hook against your face made goosebumps rise on your skin and your breath stutter in your chest. On shaky legs, you carried yourself home. It wasn’t until the following morning, your blush still present, that you were certain that you met the man of your dreams. And you’d be damned before you let him slip from your fingers.

Just like that, your boring life turned into a certified soap opera. Every week, you would meet Crocodile at the back end of the casino to chat — that was a strong word, you mostly stammered, though you did manage to make him laugh with a wry comment or two every so often. No matter how awkward you were with him, everytime you arrived, Crocodile was waiting for you. Maybe you were imagining things, but you had even seen his lips twitch when your eyes met the last few times, as if he was searching for you in the crowd. The idea wormed its way into your chest, threatening to bloom into a hoard of butterflies.

Tonight, you decided you would tell him how you felt. There was no way you would be able to articulate yourself properly in Crocodile’s presence. You knew that from experience. That was why, instead, you had written him a letter, detailing exactly how you felt about him. When you met him in your designated corner, away from prying eyes, you would give it to him. Whether he reciprocated didn’t matter. Three months ago, you decided to take a leap and step out of your comfort zone. It was the best decision of your life.

It was time for another leap of faith.

Trotting into the casino, you made a beeline for your usual meeting place. As always, Crocodile was waiting for you, his large frame bathed in shadows while he stared into the crowd. He liked to watch people, always with a snide comment or two about someone who he decided was not worth his time. You only hoped after tonight, you wouldn’t be on the receiving end of his sharp tongue. The idea made you tremble, though you weren’t sure if it was from fear or something else.

“Crocodile,” You smiled, meeting his eyes as he preferred despite the fact that you wanted nothing more than to focus your gaze on the floor.

Crocodile nodded in greeting. “You’re late, mouse.”

He was teasing, you felt proud that you were able to identify that now. Crocodile was not an easy man to read, but you were a quick learner.

“Sorry, I was writing something I wanted to give to you.” You reached into your breast pocket and pulled out the letter. It felt childish now that it was in your hands. There was no going back though as Crocodile plucked it from your fingers. His eyes scanned the envelope, lips twitching again when they landed on the small heart you had doodled on the back.

However, instead of reading it, Crocodile handed it back to you. “Whatever you have to say, I want to hear it.”

“W-What?” You stammered, holding your letter to your chest. “Do you not want it?”

“Do you have something stuck in your ears? That wasn’t what I said.” Crocodile leaned close, the scent of his cigar heavy on his breath as it blew across your face. “I want to hear you say it.”

Oh.

“I think I-” You wet your lips and tried not to think about Crocodile’s stare burning a hole into the top of your head.

He hummed, amused. “Yes?”

“I’m in- Well, just a little bit, but, I do think. Well,” Your heart was in your throat as you wiped your damp palms onto your thighs. The room seemed to grow smaller with each passing second. “I’m in love with you.”

It slipped out easier than you expected it to. You blinked a few times, still processing the words that had left your lips. A full body flush heated you from head to toe, and you ducked your head to stare at your shoes. Crocodile’s hook brushed your chin. Your gaze shot up to meet his, softer than you had ever seen it, though his gray eyes were still like granite.

“There. Was that so hard?”

You swallowed. “And how do you feel? About that, I mean?”

“I ‘feel’ like you are going to join me up in my room tonight to share a glass of whiskey.”

All you could do was nod dumbly in response. “Okay.”

#one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x yn #crocodile x yn #sir crocodile x you #crocodile x you #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #.jesterwrites #buggyandthebartoclub

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idesofrevolution · 11 months

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My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

#male possession #male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #jockification #musk #gay transformation #male tf #ghost possession #bad boy transformation #body possession #gay possession #jock possession #muscle tf #jock tf #nerd to jock

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amphibia-a-day · 2 years

Photo

Day 346 of Amphibia Screenshots

Episode: Swamp and Sensibility

#Amphibia #Swamp and Sensibility #Anne Boonchuy #Sprig Plantar #Polly Plantar #Hop Pop #Hop Pop Plantar #Hopediah Plantar #Amphibia Screenshots #Amphibia Screenshot #Amphibia Swamp and Sensibility

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peachydreamxx · 5 months

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9. Teddy's Nativity ⭐️

by @peachydreamxx

Draco peers around the crowded village hall, over the sea of heads that are seated in neat rows in front of him. The lights slowly dim, and the curtain on the stage in front draws back.

“It’s starting!” He whispers, tapping Harry’s shoulder frantically.

He fumbles with the muggle video camera in his hands, then holds it up to his eye, zooming in on the stage. He can feel Harry nervously tapping his leg beside him, and brings his free hand to Harry’s thigh.

“I’m so nervous. Why am I nervous?” Harry utters.

But Draco shushes him as the star of the show appears under the spotlight. Literally — the star.

Teddy stands all alone, a tiny thing swamped by the backdrop of the stage, wearing the makeshift star of the north costume that Draco and Harry had spent weeks paper-macheing.

“There he is!” Harry breaths, a silent gasp slipping out. They both lean in, and Draco zooms in the lens until little Teddy comes into focus on the camera.

Silence fills the crowded hall. Teddy remains stock still, eyes wide and round against the harsh spotlight beaming down on him. He waves enthusiastically to Harry and Draco four rows back, greeted by the chorus of ‘aws’ from the crowd. Harry slaps his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying as he waves back.

Teddy opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. Tries again, but nothing comes out. The silence drags on with an occasional cough breaking it, and Draco’s heart thumps so heavily in his chest he’s convinced that the rest of the room can hear it too.

“Why is he not saying his line?” Harry asks, before mouthing it at Teddy with little luck at getting through him.

Teddy stares out at the crowd, stiff as a board in his star costume with his arms out at the sides and his face poking through the round hole. His lips begin to quiver, and he bursts into tears.

“Oh Merlin,” Harry bolts from the seat, stepping awkwardly through the gaps in the chairs, ducking as low as possible and grimacing as he fumbles and trips with little grace.

“Shit… sorry… really sorry about this… just gonna… almost there… oops… so sorry… that’s a lovely hat, ma’am… just squeezing through… apologies…”

Draco lowers the video camera, and snaps it closed, making the more sensible choice to walk down the side of all the chairs instead.

When they reach Teddy, Harry scoops him up and they carry him from the hall, red-faced and sniffling as the play carries on without them. Draco’s heart breaks.

“It’s okay, Teddy. That was a big, scary thing and you were so brave!” Draco says, kneeling down as Harry plops Teddy onto the ground and wraps his coat around the little, crying star.

“We’re so proud of you, bud.” Harry says, pinching his cheek.

“So many people.” Teddy says, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I know,” Draco coos, wiping them off. “How about we go home and you perform just for me and Harry, huh?”

Slowly, Teddy nods, a smile blooming over his face. Harry picks him up onto his shoulders, and they make their way home. “You’re always a star to us.”

< Day 8 by @nelweensfic

#drarry #draco x harry #draco/harry #drarry microfic #drarry fic #teddy lupin #peachydreamxx

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karniss-bg3 · 11 days

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Salute, Larian Studios

Heya folks! It’s been a while, I hope everyone is doing well. I’m breaking my hiatus to discuss the recent announcement made by Larian Studios on their steam development blog. I will add the link here for those who wish to read the blog in its entirety but be warned, there are patch seven spoilers within. I wish to focus on a particular section in the final three paragraphs of the document, which reads as follows:

“Being given the chance to develop a game set in the Dungeons & Dragons universe has been a dream come true for all of us. But as Swen recently confirmed, we won't be introducing any major new narrative content to the story of Baldur's Gate 3 or its origin characters and companions, nor will we be making expansions or Baldur’s Gate 4. As an independent studio since 1996, we value the freedom to follow our creativity wherever it leads. In this case, after six years in the Forgotten Realms and much discussion and rumination, we’ve decided to seize this opportunity to develop our own IPs. We’re currently working on two new projects and we couldn’t be more excited about what the future has in store. It’s still early days - we’ll tell you more about those later down the line. But know that even as our focus turns to these new games, the sensibilities that brought you Baldur’s Gate 3 are alive and well here at the Larian castle. We’re fueled by the very same fire in our bellies, one that drives us to create immersive experiences shaped by your choices, and we can’t wait for you to join us on this next adventure.”

I will admit, when I first read this I felt a tinge of disappointment. As someone who had a lot of hope in seeing some stories continued, Kar’niss especially, this feels like the once open door is now sealed shut permanently. To be entirely fair, I always looked at an expanded Kar’niss story with skeptical optimism; hope for the best but expect the worst. After all, Kar’niss was designed as a throw away plot device that had no real bearing on the over-all narrative. Most of what has been derived of the character is entirely fan driven and not based on anything confirmed by Larian as a whole. Furthermore, there were many fan favorites that had a larger base than our dear drider and chances are even if Larian did decide to do an expansion, Kar’niss still wouldn’t make the cut.

With that said, I respect Larian in their choice. To expand on other characters would cost a lot of money and time. To juggle that alongside making new games would be unrealistic, and I understand their point of view completely. We also don’t know what is going on behind the scenes which could’ve influenced their choices all the more. Over all this situation mirrors the old saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over, be happy that it happened.” I am happy, and grateful. Without Baldur’s Gate 3 this blog wouldn’t exist. All of the amazing interactions I’ve had over several months would’ve never occurred, nor would I have found the courage to publicly publish stories to the internet. While I don’t consider myself an awful writer, I never believed my work was good enough for those outside of my personal circle. To say that my confidence has blossomed over the last few months is an understatement, and I owe that to the fantastic support of those in the fandom as well as those close to me. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

With Larian closing up the BG3 shop after the next few patches the question becomes, what’s next? For me, I don’t know. Sadly I’ve been swamped lately and it’s not destined to slow down until the middle of May. By then I hope to have a sufficient breather so I can return to projects I’ve left on the back burner in the interim. The Kar’niss blog will remain in place along with all of the archived stories, theories, and miscellaneous posts that are present. I still have a few writing requests that have waited a lot longer than I anticipated, so forgive me for the delay. I may also make a new blog that is dedicated solely to writing and other fandoms of interest. When the time comes I’ll post it here and folks can follow it if they wish but I’ll understand if not. Regardless of what the future holds, I am very stoked with the experiences I’ve had within the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom. I’m a painfully shy individual and I am not a spotlight seeker by any stretch of the imagination. This section of the internet allowed me to expand my horizons a bit proving that you can indeed teach an old writer new tricks.

I look forward to seeing what is in store for Larian Studios. So long as they stick to their passion for making good games and treating their customers like people instead of money cows to be milked, then I will support every game release that comes in the future. While I’m sad that the many questions I had about Kar’niss will go unanswered, at least the drider will live on through the stories, art and other creative works made by his fans. In that way he is eternal, as are all of the other characters we’ve grown to love over this journey.

I hope to return on a more regular basis soon. Until then drider army, take care of yourselves and thank you for your continued support.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #bg3 #karniss #drider #baldurs gate 3 #larian studios #steam #essay #writing #I've missed posting here #the chaos on my end should be over soon #I hope

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