#what is wrong with you he is an old man??? he is hairy and chubby and a grandpa????

[hecksupremechips]

The way I WANTED HIM

#the klock keeps ticking #gravity falls #i am 100% serious grunkle stan is why im gay #id be clenching my fists for years like i am straight I AM STRAIGHT #but then back in my mind it was like OKAY THEN EXPLAIN YOUR FEELINGS DURING THE ZOMBIE GRAVITY FALLS EPISODE WHEN STAN FOUGHT THEM OFF #HE WAS SWEATY OUT OF BREATH COVERED IN SCRAPES AND ZOMBIE BLOOD #and there was that part where the zombie ate his bat and he did not FLINCH he instantly brought out the brass knuckles #like that whole bit was for the gays like would i even be the homo who stands before you if zombie stan didnt halo #*happen #i then remember once i was like yeah okay men hot stan hot i brought it up to straight girl friends and they were like #what is wrong with you he is an old man??? he is hairy and chubby and a grandpa???? #like okay you CLEARLY dont get it 🙄💅 #this gives me art ideas now that im at it

[sjw-publishings]

Get a Grip, Brother!

Spinoff to the Camp Christening series by @dumb-and-jocked

——————————————————

“What is the meaning of this Pastor John?”

John’s colleague placed a carton onto his desk, filled with a multitude of syringes, liquids, beakers, and extremely complicated science measurements and papers printed and signed in a foreign language.

“Its simply to facilitate our cause much quicker, fellow brother.”

“Oh really? Then what about THIS?”

The man slammed down a plastic bag, containing a bottle with a ‘prescription’ to be used for very intimate acts in bed.

“We have to get them interested to take the serum after all.”

“What Bull-“

“No swearing, pastor.”

The other man barely stopped himself from letting the sun go down on his wrath. But what the method of transformation with these-

“For the record, the serum absorbs the DNA and reconfigures it into its transformative properties, it’ll just be akin to a sweet salad dressing, no traces of any Homosexual act in cause you are worrying.”

John simply dipped his finger into a used bottle of the serum on the side.

“With the benefit of it being usable in many, many things, and no side effects for those already under the flock.”

And licked it shamelessly.

And deep down, a strange craving arose within his colleague, remembering the well behaved youths leaving his office earlier, excited to propose to their girlfriends with such innocence.

He wanted to witness it more…that being said.

“But what about the ‘gifts’ given? Throwing extra bottles with specialised liquid alongside the serum. Isn’t one formula sufficient?”

John simply clasped his strong fatherly palms, and smirked.

“The complimentary bottles are simply for their voluntary production.”

With that, it clicked. Suddenly being able to picture the man’s plans for his sections of the camp, and how efficient it was despite the questionable methods being used.

And while he still would not agree with the use of…such objects, he definitely has no right to object to it, with their camp’s purpose being to recruit as many members as possible, far beyond the camp grounds.

And with that, he realised Pastor John knew what he was doing.

——————————————————

“Daddy! I’m not so sure about this…”

“Relax my cub, have any of my instructions gone wrong?”

The dominant muscular forty-five year old began to apply the strange goo over on his sheath, generously layering most of the liquid on his relaxed 8 inches…which quickly expanded to a long girth of 13 in mere seconds.

Gilbert Sullivan got the deluxe room for both his cub and himself, having saved up tons of money from his job as the head of his very own construction company, tons of duties and especially manual labour-which he never ceased helping despite being at the very top.

Rough calloused hands slathering and spreading the goo on his large throb, he grinned mischievously at the flustered bottom, sweat already pouring out in anticipation for a heated and passionate time together.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this, cub.”

Navy Baxter shuddered, having just finished college and still unblemished, he desperately researched some information about how to please his men. He did do several ‘personal releases’ on his own, as well as enlarging the narrow passage with very ‘inexperienced methods’.

Needless to say it was very messy…

But even so, he still wanted to please his, ever so hot, benefactor and partner. Letting loose his stretched out undies, his belly matched the chubbiness of his cheeks and his blonde curls. Framing his innocence one final time before he takes the plunge-

“On.”

Legs stretched, his 6ft stood short in comparison to the hairiness of his partner. Thick trunks that could stomp on him like the aggressive man Mr Sullivan was, his round belly was no match for those juicy ripped abdominals and pecs.

Neither was his back as Gilbert’s could easily squish him without much effort. With Shiny bald head and a thick aftershave, it was without question that the man was way above his league. Though that being said.

He hoped he could-

STING!

“Ugh!”

As he slid his cushion slowly down, a huge THRUST went in deep. The coating and goo producing a chilling effect as it knocked against his passage.

And while it was obvious that the Mr Sullivan’s 13 inches went in too much for his cub’s first time, neither of them ever considered the transformational properties that are about to seep into their insides, and their lives.

“Go hard, cub.”

Navy winced, rotating and moving up and down like he was taught…Though for some reason, he didn’t really see the appeal of his first time with his man. Which was strange as the objects he placed in his behind is still nothing compared to doing it live.

Maybe he needed to put more force into it?

grind…!

Little does he know, with every gyration, its slowly pushing out the large throb that was inserted, buttocks hardening as a result. His milky hue being dampened his yellowish tan, darkening and spreading with every inch being ‘pushed out’.

It was easy for him to apply force…oddly enough. Yet he felt little excitement towards his act. His once anxious personality was nothing compared to the stoicism he presented while on top.

Meanwhile, Mr Sullivan was rather impressed with the act of authority given by his cub…such strength unlike the ones before Navy…but oddly enough, it felt really strange to be doing this. His 11 inches was definitely far bigger than his cub’s 6 inches…yet he felt a little anxious continuing on their ‘romance’.

Still, he had to stay strong and in charge, like the male figure he was.

“You can do…harder.”

Hesitating, the man gripped the sides of the bed. Preparing for the next wave of gyration from his c-

“Mmmph!”

Colleague, he briefly remembered Navy mentioning it being his first, but the force and intensity showed otherwise. Oddly enough, it was far less…enjoyable than just now, despite Mr Sullivan supposedly enjoying rough and tough bottoms.

Tough rotations, almost as if its knocking down his confidence by inches. The more intimidating it got, the more of his bodily hair follicles around end up retracting…leaving patches of smooth gentle skin in place of his former tanned hardiness.

Gilbert was usually a top, but some guys can be quite harsh with their methods. It was…sort of a turn off, at least that was what his medium sized rocks felt as they get cushioned underneath those sturdier cheeks. Weren’t they bigger? Shrug.

But of course, Mr Baxter is not one to take down a challenge, despite not enjoying it as much as he wants to. His growing grapes need some attention, how were they supposed to get tough and strong with…this.

“Ah!”

Brutally rubbing the other man’s 10 inches, tossing and turning with those iron clad thighs. Untamed, he never did research on this…experience, other than knowing how to be rough, and tough while doing it.

Glancing over at the legs, they were about the same height of 5ft 11. Some of his flabbiness may be there, but he knew that exercise would eventually reveal the muscle underneath.

Sadly, it seems that the other male did not keep up with his training regime. That was what sitting behind the scenes and watching from the distance does to you. Less meat on those fit thighs, and oddly enough, Mr Bax could have sworn they were getting smaller.

“Stronger…pleaseee?”

Grind…!

Hearing his whinny thirty year old colleague beg, his buttocks pushed out more from behind, not releasing there were much less depth from the other male as he groaned at the thought of trying to ‘please’ his colleague.

Firm and steady at 5ft 11, the man gave his tanner arms a flex, noticing the solid hill from both sides, stretching his back as he tried to keep his mind of…the activity they were doing.

Meanwhile, Mr Solliva was getting more fearful by the minute. He was quite inexperienced with a tougher male like Mr Bax. Starring at those straightened traps above him, he gulped, as his body felt far more delicate and vulnerable than the jock he was together with.

Losing more control by the very minute, his arms were much softer, paler, more new and fresh as he only did the basics in his father’s gym. Father? Yeah he still lived with his parents, a young bachelor like himself had obeyed them in order to be the guy he was today.

But wait, wasn’t he independent? No…not really. Was he a boss? No…his father was. Was he in charge? Especially in this activity with his younger colleague?

He refused to finish the sentence-

“Please! Harder! Ahhhhhh!”

GRIND!

Yelling like a desperate plea, the slightly older man cried, mimicking the noise from an inexperienced bottom he had seen before. He tried to recall any valuable experience he had with another male, but it kept drawing a blank except for that accidental tape he had seen somewhere…?

Did he though? Blushing, unable to recall his past thirsts except…the disinterested male above him.

Though disinterested was a light term.

JOLT!

A loud sting coursed through the both of them, with the jock immediately leaping away from the bed. Repelling the other person’s member with those iron clad buttocks from squats.

Passage thinning, un-poked, unable to recall what he was doing seconds prior.

Similarly, the clueless bachelor frantically covered his pivotal region, embarrassed at…whatever strange activity he was doing earlier.

Regardless, his buttocks and member certainly had no experience in anything…his parents would not approve.

Both males starring at the other’s bare chested forms, Jock Ban gripped his own pecs, as Bachelor Soll did the same to himself out of confusion and ‘obedience’.

With thick GRIPS, muscle inflated with Jock Ban’s powerful forces, pulling out tight round pectorals. Belly bubbling, shrinking down in size to eight stones, tightening into a powerful 8 pack of an athlete.

Meanwhile, Bachelor Soll gave his pectorals a gentle squeeze. Shrinking in diameter and height, fitting his smaller 5ft 7 body with a softer chest. Trailing down his abdominals, loosening them as they became faint cushions of a man who was fit, but a far cry from muscular.

Of course, before any of them could notice and point out the change…something else caught their eye-

“Uh…uhhhh..”

“Get a GRIP! Brother!”

With that proclamation, they both instinctively looked away from the other’s bare moments. Not out of shyness, but embarrassment and disgust over the possible implications.

The shorter male shrunk back, rubbing his shoulders, definition deflating by the second as the beginnings of a milky asian hue took over.

Fishing out for clothes on the floor, as he picked up a pair of undies, sandals, a pair of shorts, a dress shirt and a jacket.

As he wore those undies, their bright pink faded away to a pure white. Contracting small, like the rest of his attire as he slid on his shorts, medium sized as they clipped onto his gentle legs with ease. Draping down his knees, splashing a dark blue.

Next was the dress shirt, which originally was really large and fit a bouncy cub, became sleek and tight into a presentable white dress shirt. Matching his pants was his suit jacket…formality completing his dress ensemble as he slid on those polished grey winged tip dress shoes. Sneakers? Not for this young man.

His parents always said he always looked good in formal, which he always wore while going to church.

And Amen to that!

Meanwhile, the manlier guy quickly slipped on the remainder of the clothes. Gigantic sized clothing fine tuning to large, as the man says what he wants, the man gets what he wants. Amen amen amen.

Grubbily bringing up his boxers, as they constricted into a branded jockstrap that accentuates his pouch. Pulling up those cargo pants and slapping on the stained flannel, tightening into dark jeans and a clean bleached tank top that clung onto him like a certain love interest in an asian show.

Next was the pair of boat shoes, elevating into army green cargo boots which saluted his higher ups for giving him this position at his age. Finally was a gold-plated watch, which twisted and latched around his neck as a thin silver chain.

And with both of them being dressed, the two men faced one another once more.

“You ready, man?”

“Yes coach…”

Athlete Bang sat at the edge of the bed, slugging his right muscular arm over his innocent colleague. Smirking, loving the power over the other male…though not of attraction but rather…dominance.

Bachelor Soh blushed, he never actually done it with another man. Done it? Was he bi-curious? No way! His parents will not allow it! And he was a good obedient son, that was why he wanted to help with their cause with-

Both men fished out their respective tents.

“You’re a man, but you have to take it easy when you are just starting.”

Easy, that was right. Life was…easy for him. Giving soft touches of innocence to his manhood, sending himself to a heavenly bliss. Inexperienced and naive, he was willing to do whatever it takes to help with the flock’s cause, even if he is way underprepared for it.

GRIP…!

“Mmugh!”

Vocal chords cracking, raising in octave, configuring into a choir. A melodious whine echoed from his cherry lips, desperate, soft groans. Facial features glowing in that cherubs, raised cheekbones and a very slight cleft for the young youth leader.

A far cry to the prominent chin of…dad? His dad. Yeah his dad was the best! And he is absolutely thankful to his dad for arranging this special training!

Meanwhile, the other male pumped wildly, thirsting for more, like a week long abstinence. Focusing solely on exercise and rough tough duties to keep himself fit, sharpening his jaw and rounding his head with depth.

Thickening, dropping octaves, filled with chill lingo and masculinity from his sporty youth groups. Lips thinning, brief aftershave can be seen over and under his lips. Which is still considered far more impressive than the ‘evaporating’ beard and moustache the newbie leader claimed he had.

Speaking of which…

“You need to be gentler.”

Grip…

Gentler. It was just his first time doing this kind of thing after all, he needed to not rush. Delicate shoulders being guided by the warmth of his instructor, not out of desire, but brotherly guidance, to be the man he ought to be.

Gently feeling his 6 inches, the shaved sides darkening with each touch, top sprouting loudly quick in contrast, as natural gel styled and combed it to the side. Thickening into a jet black modern pompadour, always presentable as instructed by his parents.

He had to be ready to preach whenever necessary after all.

grippppppp…..

“Mmmmr…”

As he heard those sounds, coach pumped his hard on rapidly, finding great strength in mentoring a clueless newbie, roughly tossing about his jackhammer with strength.

Curls straightening into pitch black, styling with slight shaves to his back and side. Combing over as his bangs hovered over his face, his signature Korean hair cut that attracted the woman.

…The woman…?

…Oh man…!

…No, not man! THE WOMAN!

“Think…of the women!”

Both men breathed heavily, kneading, pumping, grabbing their tents in their respective speeds. Shutting their eyes, basking in their heterosexual desire and abstinence.

The desire for marriage, both the athlete’s bushier brows and Youth minister’s neatly aligned strips furrowed. The sensation of the opposite sex, the desire to be fruitful and multiply.

The kind of desires these young men need to be satisfied.

Obedient

Dominant

Come.

grippppppp…..

GRIP!

“Thanks a lot, brother!”

As the youth pastor proclaimed, he let go of his hard on happily, slumping back down on the bed with a relaxed sigh, eyes revealing their dark brown beady innocence.

“No problem brother!”

The manly coach groaned, bending forward, brushing away the bangs. Charming dark lenses that portrays his vast experience of athleticism, and masculinity.

“And that’s how you pump it bro, apply a little more force and-“

“I…I get it coach..”

Caleb Soh blushed, putting back in his soft 4 inches and immediately zipping up his dress pants. The 22 year old youth pastor knew absolutely nothing about ‘serum production’ and probably would make a mess everywhere if not for his coach’s guidance.

That being said, he could barely contain the rising excitement to his face as he did so. With all that pleasurable warmth from just getting a grip, he certainly cannot wait to experience the wonders when he does let loose.

Of course neither of them really released…yet, it was just a training exercise. What are they? Homo?

Its just a professional consultation. Plus he had to rush over for the youth counsel meeting at the lobby, and he certainly cannot miss it, no matter how much he wishes to give his gentle grapes the release they so desired.

“Remember to aim the DNA into the serum bottle.”

“Got it!”

Grabbing thin bottle, Youth Pastor Soh faced his mentor with appreciation.

“Thank you once again, coach!”

As the youthful pastor went out, happily and proud of the his first ‘conquest’. The younger male shook his head and began texting his lead in charge of the successful mentorship.

Bang Yun-Huang, also known as Coach Alvin, is a prodigy when it comes to the male biology. Having straightened up men more than in one occasion, it was not a surprise that his Pastor recruited him to be a coach at the ripe age of 21.

Shame most Christian men his age were still oblivious to even the most basic of needs.

Needless to say it was still much hetter than those queers that’ll pump everyday of the week, abstaining was necessary for stronger sessions, and if they wanted stronger dosages for their cause-some discipline has to made.

That being said, he barely had his fill from earlier.

Dimming off the lights, he leaped onto the hotel bed and slacked back over on one of the pillows. A tough man like himself still could go for a couple more rounds until the day is over, if only there was someone who could-

“My session is today, Jagiya~”

A seductive message was sent by his ‘Aegiya’, one of his female colleagues across campus, a gorgeous Korean coach in his group who he had exchanged flirty messages and a lot more intimate things since last week.

Of course they planned on making their relationship official very soon. Not a full ‘connection’ before marriage, but that does not mean they could not help each other with their assignments.

And with her request, the young athlete pushed back in his pulsating manhood. Sandwiching his hard 9 inches as he immediately typed back swiftly to his to be girlfriend.

“Comin’ over Babe~”

#get a grip brother #gay to straight #g2s #mental change #personality change #lib to cons #racial change #jock tf #christian tf #muscle growth tf #muscle shrink tf #straight tf

[hellpark]

GREGORY: Just why the hell are we going back into town?!

ESTELLA: How many times do I need to tell you, you sun-dried scab off a decrepit man’s back?

ESTELLA: We need to devise a plan.

ESTELLA: What you did back there was foolish, unthought, and I’m fairly surprised nobody has you at the end of a pitch fork yet.

GREGORY: Oh, so you can try and throw a couple of joe-soap victims off a bridge, but chasing after them is just too out of line, is it?

ESTELLA: Perhaps chasing them would be fine, if you hadn’t crushed everything in your path to get to them; you rough, low hanging moose testicle.

ESTELLA: My ways would have been efficient-- quick and to the point-- but somebody had to make a grand show today, didn’t they?

ESTELLA: Had fun running around doing whatever you wanted, didn’t you.

GREGORY: I was handling everything just fine, and you know it.

GREGORY: Maybe if you were better at possessing that chubby, hairy runt, I could have gotten rid of Stanley from the start.

ESTELLA: I’m not the issue you corpulent, bacteria-ridden rodent carcass! 

ESTELLA: You know damn well I needed more time to control him than one single day.

ESTELLA: And you thought you could do everything on your own.

ESTELLA: You thought, “Oh, if I don’t let that poor old bitch out, I don’t ever have to deal with her superior plan ever again! I’m so ridiculously smart!”

GREGORY: I do not sound like that!

GREGORY: Maybe if the others picked up their slack, I wouldn’t have had to call you out in the first place!

ESTELLA: Oh!

ESTELLA: Oh, I see how it is!

ESTELLA: If you hadn’t let me out, everything would be just sunshine and roses, would it now?

ESTELLA: Is that what you’re saying, you filthy, rancid pustule swell? Is it?

ESTELLA: If you hadn’t left me inside that small testicled man-child, the son of Satan wouldn’t know we’re out here right now!

ESTELLA: It’s your fault any of this is a problem!

GREGORY: Now listen here, you... youuu...!!!

GREGORY: Rrrg!

GREGORY: You better pick a damn side here with what you want!

GREGORY: You’re the dipsy twat who decided to possess anybody at all, and you think it’s my responsibility to take you out of there?

GREGORY: Did you want to stay in him or not?!

ESTELLA: It doesn’t matter what I wanted, it--

GREGORY: Oh, so now it doesn’t matter what you wanted, hmm?

GREGORY: Is that what I’m hearing for you now?

ESTELLA: Oh, quiet you!

ESTELLA: You plan to improvise if something goes wrong!

GREGORY: You can’t plan an improvision, that’s an oxymoron in of itself!

ESTELLA: You’ve ran out of arguments so you nit pick my words instead, huh.

GREGORY: That’s right!

GREGORY: Maybe if you weren’t so impeccably stupid it wouldn’t have gotten to this point.

ESTELLA: You really are a child at heart still.

ESTELLA: The devil’s out there, and he’s going to be on our tails, and you choose to do this with your time.

GREGORY: We’re still walking, are we not?!

GREGORY: I know he’s on our ass!

GREGORY: We’re awesome at what we do, he’d be a fool not to be!

ESTELLA: That is true.

MIKE: Hey-- you’re supposed to be helping people get ready in the make up room.

DAMIEN: What.

MIKE: You’re supposed to be doing your job, per se.

DAMIEN: I’m on break.

MIKE: Break ended five minutes ago.

DAMIEN: Yeah okay sure.

DAMIEN: I could send you to hell right now you know.

MIKE: Whatever, man...

DAMIEN: ...

DAMIEN: God I love doing absolutely fucking nothing.

ESTELLA: Is that all, now?

ESTELLA: Did you get everything out of your system, you dog-feces packed rug on a rotten wooden floor.

GREGORY: No, not quite.

GREGORY: Would you mind not dragging the poor sap’s corpse across the pavement?

GREGORY: All that’s going to do is prolong his revival.

ESTELLA: You care about the decency of a corpse, do you?

GREGORY: If we’re walking through a town full of red-neck, american blokes with shot guns at the ready, then yes. I do.

GREGORY: He’s also still our friend, like it or not.

ESTELLA: I do not have friends, you silly bleeding heart of a man.

ESTELLA: You are all nothing more than accomplices. 

GREGORY: Oh I’m sure you think so.

ESTELLA: I know so.

GREGORY: Y--

ESTELLA: Shut up.

ESTELLA: What are you doing with it.

GREGORY: Carrying him with some decency, you hag.

ESTELLA: I hardly see how carrying it like that will stop very many people from screaming bloody murder, anyways.

ESTELLA: Honestly, it’s a shame you actually have a heart under all of that blubbery skin of yours.

ESTELLA: You’re going to get blood all over yourself, you know.

GREGORY: Do not remind me.

GREGORY: Why do you think I put on gloves.

ESTELLA: Let’s just get somewhere quiet for the night and figure out our next course of action, shall we?

GREGORY: Whatever you say, your highness.

#south park #gregory of yardale #estella havisham #damien thorn #sp thomas #sp gregory #pip pirrup #mike makowski #hellpark #british demons MUST shut up.

[yukiwrites]

His Two Most Precious

For Corrianderweek, Day 3: Bonding Moment. LONG TIME NO KATERINA!! My baby girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

__________________

There was always a larger influx of work and reports to read during the weeks preceding any of the Royals’ birthdays, most of all the King’s.

Thus, Xander spent more time than usual cooped up in his study, going over piles and piles of documents each and every day. Of course, so did Kamui, but she was one to know when to take her proper breaks so the people saw the Queen around the castle much more often than they did the King.

Throughout their years (over a decade!) of marriage, Xander had grown resistant to Kamui’s invitations to take breaks, be they family rated or not, so the Queen had to resort to her trump card…

“Toc, toc, toctocTooc!” A youthful, almost baby-like voice sounded at the same time a chubby hand did the set of knocks specially devised for her. The guard on duty outside fidgeted, wanting to open the door as it was his role, but being told not to.

From the inside, Xander tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Katerina?” He asked the empty room, being answered by the youngest princess of Nohr right outside.

“Caan Katie come inn, Papa?” She asked adorably, in a way that Xander could already picture how she was standing on the tips of her toes and swaying her fluffy dress around.

“Of course, my precious princess. Come on in.” The King immediately let go of his pen to welcome his youngest child midway to the room, opening his arms to pick her up.

Before he could, however, Katerina hopped inside and opened a rolled up sheet of paper, yelling a, “ta-dAH! Happy birthdee, Papa!”

“Oh?” Xander chuckled, wearing the warmest and fondest expression only found on a parent who deeply loved their children. “What priceless piece of art! Is that me?” He kneeled in front of the little girl, prompting her to sit on his knee and let him take the drawing so she could point to each of the hairy stick figures she had drawn with crayon.

“Here is Papa, me, Mama, bibig bro and big bro! I made Papa’s crown reaaally big here!” She kicked her chubby legs, making her curly, golden hair bounce around her pointy ears.

“Indeed, you have managed to capture me perfectly, my precious princess. May I keep this with me here?” He rolled the paper back, gesturing to his desk, intending on keeping the drawing in the drawer closest to his arm so it could be within his reach anytime he wanted to look at it.

“Mhm!” Katerina nodded as she wrapped both short arms around her father’s neck, squeezing him in a warm and loving hug. Xander reciprocated the gesture immediately, getting up as he held the little girl with one arm, safely holding her drawing with the other. He walked back to his desk, sitting upon the comfy chair by it so he could safely place the wonderful piece of art inside the drawer.

As he bent sideways to do so, Katerina made herself comfortable on top of his desk -- specifically making of the many important documents of the kingdom as her seat of honor. Usually, the one who would sit on his desk to distract him from work would be-

Wait just a moment…

From the corner of Xander’s eyes, he saw that the door to his study remained ajar, despite him knowing full well that was supposed to be a guard on duty standing right outside. As a rule, it was the soldier’s job to open the door for the guests and close it behind them, so there was no understandable reason for him not to do this single task of his job, unless there was someone of a higher rank than him standing right there to impede him from doing it.

“Say, Katerina?” That line of thought took less than half a second to conconte, so the young princess had barely set her fluffy dress atop his documents when he opened his mouth.

The little girl’s bright, red eyes that looked so much like her mother’s darted straight to Xander, being accompanied by a large, missing-a-tooth grin that somehow managed to melt the King’s heart even further. “Papa?”

“Did someone tell you to come here to do this? My birthday is only two days from now, after all.” He glanced from the princess to the door, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of what was behind that slight crack.

As matter-of-factly a 3-year-old could be, Katerina simply pointed to the door and said, “Mama!”

“C-cough!” Something behind the door moved, making Xander’s gaze catch a glimpse of a blue dress.

Pressing his lips so as to hide a smirk that fought to grow on his lips, Xander cleared his throat, managing to ask with a semi-sarcastic, mostly-fond tone: “Would you care to join us, Kamui?”

Xander could feel the tension coming from beyond the door, which made his hard-fought smirk win half of the battle, giving him an annoyed look to the normal onlooker. To his family, however? They could see that he was fighting back the urge to laugh the moment any of them laid eyes on him.

Kamui awkwardly popped her head inside the study, smiling as though caught red-handed. “Heehee, you caught me!”

“Mama!” Katerina bounced on her seat of documents. “Mama, Mama!”

The couple exchanged glances that carried the words of a man and woman who had been together for the largest part of their lives. See that? She’s calling me so I’m going over now, Kamui giggled innocently, knowing that her husband would see through her ruse right away. We will need to talk later, was the only message Xander’s gaze sent through, but Kamui simply smiled as though to ignore it and quickly headed towards the bouncing little girl.

“Katie heard everyone say it’s Papa’s birthdee, but it’s not! Did Mama say wrong?”

Kamui coughed once again, caught in her ruse by their too-smart 3-year-old. “M-Mama only meant that Papa was too busy with the preparations for this birthday party, my little pumpkin. Thank you for coming here and reminding him to take a break, okay?”

“Mhm!” The little girl nodded vehemently, but stopped it just as fast, “AH!”

Startled out of their skins, the parents each placed one hand on either of Katerina’s shoulders to assess how she was, but the princess simply widened her sparkling eyes as she looked at her mother.

“Bumpkin!” She waved energetically, “Nanny said there was bumpkin snack today!”

Xander and Kamui both breathed out in relief, the Queen placing one hand over her chest as the King stroked his thumb on Katerina’s arm in an act of fondness.

“Are you going to eat lots of pumpkins, my little pumpkin?” Kamui squeezed the little girl’s chubby cheeks, receiving a loud giggle and happy kicks in response.

“Mhm!” She nodded to Kamui, then immediately turned to Xander, opening her arms as though asking for upsies. “Papa, take me!”

Blinking, Xander was stunned for half a second before narrowing his eyes to his wife.

It wasn’t my idea, her eyes said, though her mouth let out a gurgling snort as her hands did a thumbs-up for her daughter’s wit. Noticing how her husband was about to give in, she joined the act by hugging Katerina and showing Xander the exact same look the little girl was giving him. “Take me too, Xander?” She pouted adorably, knowing that she would answer for this later.

“Take meeee, Papa!” Katerina insisted, pushing Kamui away so as to open her arms once again for her father.

Xander further narrowed his eyes as he reached for Katerina, promptly putting her on his arms and getting up from his seat. “I’m afraid I will not be able to take you, my Queen, as my arms are occupied with one princess already.”

Kamui grinned widely. “I suppose I must concede defeat, then. But I must ask for a fee for this travesty.” She tapped on his free arm, asking him to bend down to her short height so she could place a kiss upon his lips.

Not being able to hide his smile anymore, Xander simply did as his wife said and welcomed her kiss with open lips and closed eyes.

“Chuu, chuu, chuu!” Katerina imitated kissy sounds, wanting her to be the next receiver of smooches.

Gurgling a giggle under Xander’s lips, Kamui smiled as their kiss turned into smaller ones until she was able to speak. “Muah, muah, muah for Katie too!” The Queen pulled her little girl’s cheeks closer to her, covering her with loud and wet kisses.

Xander placed a patient peck on Katerina’s forehead after Kamui was done disheveling the princess’ hairdo, slicking the curly hair back with his free hand. After he was done, his Queen took the arm within her own, wanting to be escorted to the tea room alongside their daughter.

“Bumpkin, bumpkin!” Katerina chanted, kicking her tiny feet as Xander made his way out of the room with Kamui in tow. The guard that was supposed to be there had been probably relieved of his duties for the day by Kamui, but that was a matter for him to talk to her another time.

For now, he would enjoy this moment to bond with the most important women of his life, two days before his birthday. 

#corrianderweek2020 #corriander #kamarx #xander fire emblem #kamui fire emblem #my writings #katerina #second time in this shipping week only that xander Does Not Know how to take a break and Kamui has to find a way to make him Stop

[bodyswapmischief]

Silver’s Sauna: Nerd to Sliver Fox

Just moments ago, I was a nerdy high school senior. Now, I'm almost an actual senior at 55 years old. Yes, I have one hell of a body, but was it worth 37 years of my life.

I was always made fun of, in school. First I was, too short ... But, once puberty hit, I grew taller. To bad my muscles didn't get the growth memo. I was a tall, pale, nerdy skeleton. And jocks/bullies at my school never let me forget how much of an outcast I was.

With college coming up soon, I saw my chance to start over. I could work on my self now and become the person I wanted to be in college. So, I joined a gym, where I knew my classmates wouldn't bother me. Silver's Gym was mainly advertised to older men. The mascot was a fox. So ... the whole Silver Fox motif wasn't lost on me.

I walked up to the front desk. And, there was Mr. Edward Silver. He was the youngest and fittest man in there, in his early 30's. He was curious why I wanted to be at this gym. So, I told him my story. He understood and even gave me a discount. For the past few months I went, but saw no results. Mr. Silver tried to give me tips, but I just couldn't gain weight to build muscle. Exercising became a form of meditation for me. And working out next to overweight business men was a real confidence booster.

Today, I was working out when I saw a bald and severely obese man walk in. His clothes and the way he carried himself shown that his gluttonous appetite came from his extremely wealthy life style. Mr. Silver came, out of the back office, and greeted him. They started talking and the old man handed Mr. Silver a brief case. Mr. Silver motioned to me and the old man nodded. My gut told me I needed to leave, immediately.

I stopped what I was doing and rushed into to the locker room. My heart was racing and it felt like being back at school, running from my bullies. As I struggled to get the locker open, Mr. Silver walked in. Being bullied at school, I considered him my only friend, based on the interactions we had. But, now standing in front of me, he was different. He stared at me like a predator that had cornered his prey. I didn't know what he was going to do, but I knew he had me trapped. "Aw Eric! Glad I found you." He said in a fake cheerful tone. "I wanted to congratulate you, myself. You won the gyms surprise lottery. You got yourself a free trip to the sauna."

"That's great," I let out, fear shaking my throat. "But, I can't do it now ...  Can I comeback..." Mr Silver interrupted me, with his fake cheery tone. "Oh, we both know you're not gonna want to miss this opportunity." He grabbed me and forcibly led me to the spa area. I tried to break free. Even though Mr. Silver was shorter than me, his ripped body easily slammed me into the locker. With his ripped physique pressed against me, he looked at me straight in the eyes, his silent message was clear. I wasn't escaping. I stopped fighting back and let him take me.

He led me into the basement, with two glass chambers. The chambers were set up like saunas, except for the 3 glass walls. In one chamber sat the fat old man, with a towel across his legs. "Strip down and here's a towel." Mr Silver commanded. Understanding that I couldn't do anything to escape, I followed his command. He opened the door to the other chamber and I walked in.

The fat old man looked at me at smile. "Hello, I'm Theodore Hutchinson. And, I appreciate what you are about to do for me." I was confused. "What's going on!'" I order Mr. Silver to explain what was happening. "Years ago, I discovered these particles that I have infused into this mist. When properly charged these particles can overcome the obstacles of time and space. However they need to be balanced, or else ... bad things happen" Mr. Silver began to explain.

As he was talking, I witnessed what was happening to Mr. Hutchinson. Fat was melting of his body. Hair was growing back on his head. His body was becoming less hairy. His skin started to tighten and his body was being pumped with muscle. Once the steam cleared he looked like he was now my age. He looked like the buff jocks that made my life a living hell. His towel dropped to the floor revealing his hard cock. He started laughing in disbelief, while feeling up his body. The laughs turned into moans and he started rubbing his cock. His body pulsing with pleasure as as he felt up his now younger body.

The machine started violently shaking, as Mr. Silver walked back to it. "See. These little guys are fighting to regain balance. They need somewhere to go." He said deviously. Steam started filling up my chamber. I panicked, looking at  Mr. Hutchinson younger body. I subconsciously put one hand on my stomach. I brushed the other hand through my hair. Mr. Silver laughed. "It doesn't work like that. It's not a body swap machine. In Mr. Hutchinson’s case it naturally de-aged him to his senior year of high school. When he was a muscled up jock. You on the other hand, It will age you as if you kept living your life naturally. What you will look like ... well who knows. That's the fun part. Maybe you will get fat and bald like he was and maybe you won’t. Only time will tell." Mr. Silver Flipped  the switch.

The steam surrounded my body. Although I could still breathe, I felt suffocated. My body was heating up. Suddenly, I felt a pressure on my stomach and saw it start stretching. My chest became flabby and my stomach jutted out. " Looks like some gained the freshman 15," Mr. Silver playfully said.

Part of me was happy that I was no longer a skinny skeleton. But I worried how fat I was going to get, as the weight kept piling on. "Someone discovered beer on their 21st birthday." Mr Silver Chimed in.

Suddenly I feel my arm getting stabbed over and again. A tattoo appeared on my arm. My body was still chubby, but muscle was beginning to developed. My biceps started painfully pulsating, as they increased in size. My chest became more defined. " Look's like 25 was a good year for you." Silver seemed amused.

My body kept increasing in size and my belly became flatter. I begin to feel stabbing in my other arm and neck. More tattoos appeared. "Damn your looking good in your 30's, most guys I’ve seen let themselves go, by now." Silver said, not hiding the fact he was getting turned on.

My skin started to tan and finally an eight pack formed on my stomach. My body looked like what you might imagine an ancient gladiators body would look like. I was in the best shape my life. "So you are one of the it gets better with age guys, huh." Silver said, with a big smile on his face. He was really enjoying this.

The mist kept swirling, but my body only went through minor changes. A little more muscle gain and a pricking sensation as stubble appeared on my face.  But, then I started to feel drained. I was more tried. My body felt heavier. It felt like more work to carry all this muscle. The steam cleared. I looked down at my body. I was insanely fit and hot and my body wasn't changing anymore. With a body like this, I had to still be in my late 30's, at the most. Confused, I asked "why am I still in my 30's ..." I stop, shocked by how old I sounded. Silver chimed in, "It would look like that, doesn't it." Silver smiles. "But you are now 55."

My heart beat fast in disbelief. Mr. Silver held up a mirror. Although my body looked strong, I still felt heavy. I slowly got up feeling pain in my lower back and knees. I made my way to the mirror. I looked at my reflection and saw an old face staring back. Wrinkles on my face and grey in my hair and stubble.

"It looks like you are in great shape  ... but as an older man you are going have to live differently to keep that body tight. There will have to be diet changes and working out twice has hard and twice as much, compared to a man now half your age." Mr Silver smiled, checking out an analyzing the work he did to my body. I stumbled back to my seat, reality setting in. I'm an old man now. A hot Silver Fox, but still an old man. "What's going to happen. I can't go back home like this." I cried out. 

"Your past is taken care of. To everyone you knew ... you are dead. A bus crush that should happen any moment, now. As for the future ... you are now a father. Your son is that young man over there, Ted Hutchinson. As per his contract, he has given you his life and all the wealth that comes along with it. You will continue to work in his company and make money. And, you will have time for fun too, so don't worry about having to work to much. After all, you have 10 more years until retirement is an option. Your new son will get to live like the rich kid he always wanted to be, instead of the self-made billionaire he had to be. And, once you die, you will leave everything to your son. Do we have an agreement?"

With tears in my eyes, I nodded. I didn't have choice. My whole life was gone. If I said no, I'd probably end up on the streets, with my parents not believing I'm really me and a lack of work experience to get a job. Who's going want to hire a 55 year old man with no work experience or proof of being a citizen.

My life was over. Not that it was great, so far. But, it was mine. I missed out on so many experiences. It seemed like my 20's, 30's and 40's were going to be great. But, now I would never know. I mean with how in shape I am in, I'd probably live into my 90's, assuming something else doesn't go wrong in my body, but now that is only 40 years away. Silver comes back and brings me the contract. I sign it.

My new son, Ted, walks in. I feel angry about what he did to me. "I'm lucky my new daddy is so hot" he says as he enters my chamber. He walks closer to me. His body less muscular than mine, but still hot. He starts feeling up my aged body. And, I start feeling his, my anger turning to lust. "Don't worry I'll take care of you dad" Ted said, removing my towel and exposing my old but still impressive cock. He bends down and starts sucking it. I moan in pleasure.

I could get use to this. I mean there's nothing I could do about it now. I might as well enjoy it ... while I'm still alive. Being a Silver Fox can have it’s benefits. 

#male #body #swap #mischief #transformation #stories #tf #story #musle #age #theft #transfer #aging #de-aging

[bettsfic]

The Art of Scraping Through is amazing, you're an incredible writer. I was wondering if you could talk about this detail -- "You take a gratuitous glance at his belly, which looks surprisingly soft, almost chubby." It's so rare to see a description like this on the male lead because fic is so often a place of fantasy washboard abs for the men. Did you decide to do this as a kind of deliberate counter to that? Thanks again for sharing your gorgeous work!

the answer to this is surprisingly long, so if you want the short answer, it’s: i do not like abs.

now for the longer answer!

i cannot look at a man with abs and think “ooh damn u look good” because those abs come with a lot of context i can’t handle. a man who has abs is one who has chosen beauty over food, and is therefore not a man who would ever, under any circumstance, find someone like me attractive, a woman who doesn’t prioritize standardized beauty at all, in herself or other people. fundamentally our priorities are too different – there is no universe where i would get along on a deep level with someone who has abs. abs tell me that a person drinks protein shakes and eats boiled chicken and broccoli every day, counts their macros religiously, and works out at least 10 hours a week. it’s one thing for an actor or model or body builder to have abs – it’s part of the job. they have trainers and have to be Seen. 

but if a 34 year old paramedic in dayton, ohio has a six-pack, that tells me a lot about him and his body image and the way he interacts with the world, and those things are not things i would ever want in a partner. if i write fic to be the ideal, a person with that level of dedication to beauty would never be my ideal.

i used to be a power lifter, and have also slept with a lot of power lifters. men with functional strength often look “chubby” to people who don’t know any better. they have barrel chests and soft tummies, and if they flex, their stomachs may harden but you wouldn’t see defined muscles there, because they’re hidden under an extremely necessary and not at all unhealthy plane of fat. defined muscles are an illusion hollywood has sold us. and because of that, i can’t in good conscience write a chiseled male character without including in his personality and daily habits all the work that entails. 

in scraping through, bellamy is partly defined by his sloppiness and physical unawareness. he takes up too much space. he stands too close to people. he touches people without their permission. he attends so acutely to others that he would never be so preoccupied with himself to exercise for the sake of self-aesthetic. he exercises to be better at his job, because that’s what he cares about. he also exercises because he has a lot of physical energy and it’s fun for him. people who work out in this way are in shape, but they don’t often have toned bodies, especially over the age of 30.

a character’s body is a major indicator of the kind of lives they lead. a body is the result of environment, of daily activity, of personal health and behavioral choices. to write a character who has a toned body when it doesn’t make sense to have one, solely for the sake of ~aesthetic, does a disservice to the story i’m trying to tell, which is grounded in reality.

which brings me to the point you’re making of the ideal male body. i agree, fanfic as a genre is mostly about exploring ideals, and in my PWP, which exists to arouse readers, i incorporate that ideal more so than in my other fic. there’s nothing wrong with writing bellamy as his s1 self, walking around camp shirtless. it’s canon. i’m sure part of the reason bob was casted as bellamy was because of his physique. the women on t100 all wear makeup all the time and have perfectly styled hair. no one came off the ring emaciated even though they’d been living on algae. t100 is a show that concerns itself with maintaining beauty at the cost of logic. that’s an aesthetic choice they’ve made, being a cw show, a genre which often asks us to suspend our disbelief for the sake of visual pleasure. it makes sense for fanfic also to indulge in that mentality. 

but i am not very interested in canon. as a fic writer, i’m concerned with “fixing” the things i see wrong with canon. it bothers me that no one is allowed to be ugly or human on the show, which seems to contradict its entire purpose of this gritty morally grey reality of survival. it is not something i would ever write. in reality, i’m attracted to people who look like themselves and smell like themselves and can see past all the patriarchal bullshit we’re sold about beauty. i love the things that make a person real – crooked teeth and acne and big noses and body odor and hairy legs. 

i also have the context of the actor’s own body image issues, and in the same way i wouldn’t want to describe bellamy as white or pale knowing bob’s Filipino pride (despite the show’s insistence that race isn’t a thing in the future), i also wouldn’t want to describe bellamy’s s5-6 body as anything other than it is. bellamy doesn’t have a six-pack under his bulky layers. he has a tummy, and i find that mercilessly hot. i told a friend that s1 bellamy is the kind of guy i would avoid because he would be trained to think fat women are disgusting and unworthy of respect. in me, he’d see a gross fat girl, if he could see me at all. but s6 bellamy looks like the kind of guy i would hit on in a grocery store and who would think i’m cute. 

ultimately, chubby tummies are my personal beauty ideal. i describe the desired character in most of my long fics as being chubby – clarke in twyd and even in zucchini (and bellamy is openly attracted to her for being chubby, even though it’s her pov), also bellamy in training wheels. whenever i take the time to describe a character exploring another’s body, usually my interest is in reflecting, not the existing physical beauty ideal, but an ideal mind that finds beauty in imperfect body types. i don’t personally desire to be thin; i want to be desired for the body that i have, by a person who puts who i am above physical aesthetics. and a person who is capable of doing that is probably not someone who has a six-pack.

#scraping through #meta #Anonymous

[gaycrouton]

Prompt for ya if you're interested: Mulder and Scully have to awkwardly explain to their growing daughter what they were doing "making each other cry to God while wrestling one another naked" ;)

Bahahahaha, this is my first attempt EVER at writing about their child, so I hope this works.@MonikaFileFan

Mortification didn’t even begin to cover what Scully was feeling right now. One second Mulder was thrusting into her, sending her into her third orgasm of the night; then the next, he was tossing her off of him, desperately wrapping them in a sheet while yelling, “Close your eyes sweetie!”

Scully’s head whipped around, hoping she wasn’t about to see what her gut knew she would. No such luck. At the door was their daughter, bright blue eyes shining in the moonlight, trying to absorb and understand the scene going on in front of her. The scene of her riding the life out of Mulder, as loud as she was naked. Scully scrambled to help Mulder in covering them as she pleaded, “Close the door, honey. We’ll be out in a second, okay?” Her red ringlets bobbed around her head as she nodded, grabbing the knob of the door and shutting it lightly.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Mulder repeated, jumping out of bed with his erection dying against his leg. “How long do you think she was standing there?” he whined as he grabbed a pair of boxers, almost falling over with the force he slid them up his legs with.

Scully was no better, almost falling out of bed with the sheets wrapped around her legs. “I don’t know, I didn’t even notice her.”

“Well, I know why we weren’t able to hear the door open,” he teased. She was always vocal in bed, but she thought she’d toned it down significantly since the home expanded to three.

“Don’t you blame this on me, I wasn’t the one banging the headboard against the wall earlier!” she responded before trying to take control of her soaring adrenaline while wiping in between her legs with her forgotten shirt. “It’s both of our faults. We need to stick together.”

“What if we just say we were wrestling?” Mulder asked in a desperate hushed tone, slipping on the t-shirt she’d ripped off less than an hour ago.

“We can’t lie to her. Besides, what if she wants to wrestle with some kid later and suddenly strips off all her clothes and starts to hump them?” she rushed, getting tangled in the robe she was trying to shove herself into.

“Fuck,” he cried. “I have to go make sure she’s alright.”

She ran towards him and grabbed his arm before he had a chance to open the door, “Wait!” Mulder stopped and looked at her, that kicked puppy expression taking up residence on his face ever since this happened. “We have to be calm, cool, and collected. We can’t make her feel bad or let her see our embarrassment. I don’t want this to taint her view of sexuality and cause her to think sex is something to be ashamed of.”

“Scully, she’s four years old. Besides, will she even remember this?” he almost pleaded, as if she could predict the future and tell him if his daughter will always be haunted by the sight of his hairy ass-crack.

“Mulder, I don’t know! I hope not, but there’s more of a chance she’ll remember if we allow this to be the first time she sees us distressed. I don’t want her to associate naked bodies with her parents being upset, leading her to be ashamed of her own body because she thinks there’s something wrong with-” she was spiraling in her rambling, trying to remember every sexuality class she took in med school but only succeeding in stressing herself out more.

“Oh god, will this impact the rest of her life?” Mulder interrupted with a cry, his face set in panic.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her response. “Mommy, Daddy, you okay?” Katie’s asked, her little voice laced with concern.

Mulder whipped open the door to reveal their daughter standing innocently at the door, her chubby fingers playing with the bow on the top of her nightdress. “Hi sweetie, yeah we’re okay, everything’s okay,” if Scully wasn’t in the same boat as him, she would have been amused by how high and rushed Mulder’s voice was. “Baby, what woke you up?”

“Can we talk at the table?” she requested politely. They both nodded in mortification and followed the wide-awake toddler down the hall with heavy steps.

They had a longstanding tradition in their home of discussing things at their dining room table. If Katie had a question about something she learned at preschool that she didn’t understand, if she was curious about why the leaves on the tree weren’t orange in April, when she wanted to know how Santa managed to find time to star in so many movies when he should be making toys; it didn’t matter, they talked about it at the table. Even more recently, it was where they had to chastise her for different misbehaviors. However, as they sat across from the little girl with the floral nightie, hands authoritatively clasped in front of her, Scully couldn’t help but feel like they were the ones about to get reprimanded. The girl who wasn’t even four feet tall yet somehow had mastered the gravitas of A.D Skinner. Was that what he taught her when he babysat?

For a second she thought maybe she hadn’t really seen. Maybe she all the sudden decided she wanted to talk about something that happened at school at two in the morning. “Sweetie, w-”

“What were you guys doin’?” she asked, bright eyes bouncing between the two blushing adults. Of course they wouldn’t be that lucky.

Scully always knew this conversation was coming, it was inevitable. She’d even made the promise to herself that she wouldn’t make it nearly as awkward for her own daughter as her mother had made it for her. “When a man and a woman love each other very much-” She still shuddered at the memory. The diagrams and the cautionary tales left her traumatized for weeks after. She couldn’t even look at a boy without thinking of the words tumescence or fornication or syphilis.

However, in all of her imaginings of this event, Katie was starting to hit puberty, a time where these questions started to be asked as her body started to change and people who used to annoy her suddenly became interesting. Never did she think the conversation would happen when she had barely only started preschool. Especially not like this.

“Um-” Scully began, sending a resentful glare to Mulder who was looking at her with that same bright-eyed curiosity as Katie. As if he didn’t know damn well what they were doing in that bedroom. “Parents have certain activities they like to do with each other in their private time.”

“Activ-tivities?” She perked up, attaching to the familiar concept she knew, even though it had more syllables than her vocabulary was used to. “Like playing soccer?”

“Yes, like that. Except it’s an activity I only do with Daddy in our bedroom.” It was times like this where she swore she was telepathically connected to Mulder. She wasn’t even looking at him, but she could hear him internally adding “and our office, and every room in this house, and in all those rental cars, and-”

“Your activity is sitting on daddy?” Scully’d smile if she wasn’t dying inside.

“Um-,” Mulder started, trying to ease some of the burden off of Scully. “It’s an activity that only mommies and daddies do called ‘making love’.” Scully reached out and squeezed Mulder’s hand, as if to congratulate him on good phrasing.

The praise may have come to soon, because fat tears started rolling down her cheeks as her bottom lip pouted out. Scully jumped up and ran around to kneel next to her chair, wrapping the tiny girl in her arms. “Katie-bear, what’s wrong?”

“You g-g-uys n-never ma-make love to m-me,” she cried between gasps for breath, devastated she was being excluded from this activity. Mulder stood up, probably beating himself up now, and mirrored Scully’s position on her other side. She turned to him and, with eyes Scully knew were piercing Mulder’s heart, eyes she’s used on him herself, and whimpered, “I l-love you b-b-both.”

“We love you too, Kaite,” he started.

“More than anything in the world,” Scully added, stroking her silky hair.

“When I said ‘making love’, thats a different type of love.”

“D-difwent?” she repeated, traces of her baby talk still evident, always managing on tugging their heart strings.

“Yeah, that’s the type of love that can make babies,” he elaborated. Scully stopped suddenly to shoot him a look over their daughter’s lap, to which he shrugged with a look of panic on his face.

“There are just certain ways that mommies and daddies touch each other. You know how we’re married right?” Scully asked. When she nodded, she added, “Do you know what that means?”

“You’re husban’ and wife and you have matching wr-rings. Like best friend bwacelets,” she declared seriously.

“Exactly. So, because we’re married, we touch each other in special ways-”

“It’s like a secret handshake. You know how we have our secret handshake?” he asked, holding out his hand. Katie smiled and threw her small, chubby hand in his direction. They touched front and back a few times before making fist and touching them together top and bottom. Finishing off by pulling them back and feigning an explosion. Mulder exaggerated his explosion noise ridiculously, causing Katie to giggle and squeal.  When she settled down he continued, “You only ever do that handshake with me right?”

“Duh, Daddy, it’s ours,” she emphasized. As if doing it with someone else would be the world’s biggest insult.

Mulder smiled at his daughter’s sincerity and Scully felt her own smile growing. It always touched her heart to see how deeply his relationship with his daughter meant to Mulder. “Exactly. Just like I will only ever do that handshake with you, I will only ever make love to mommy.”

Understanding dawned in the depths of blue and she started nodding, haphazardly raising her fist to clear away her tear tracks. Mulder and Scully simultaneously grabbed for the chairs nearest to them. Now that the crisis was evaded, their joints desperately screamed at them to get out of their kneeling postures. “Do you always have to pray during it too?”

“What do you mean baby?” Scully asked, raising her hand to cup a rosy cheek in her hand, wiping away the remaining wetness with the pad of her thumb.

“You were screaming ‘oh god’.” And she was eternally now too.

This time Mulder couldn’t help himself and he had to bring a hand up to cover his mouth, which was no doubt plastered with a shit eating grin. “Yes. I do. I always think it’s important to say my prayers before I go to bed,” Scully managed to say straight-faced.

“Even when you’re making love?” she asked, playing with the silk fabric of Scully’s robe.

“Especially then,” Mulder deadpanned.

She nodded again, absorbing this information. “Do you have any other questions about what you saw, honey?” Scully asked before placing a kiss to the crown of her head, taking a moment to smell her hair.

“No, I got it now. Thank you,” she smiled.

Mulder mimicked the motion of wiping sweat off his brow, but she knew the gesture wasn’t all that far from the truth. “Okay, well it’s time to get you to bed, little girl. It’s way passed your bedtime,” he said in a sing-songy voice, scooping her up in his arms.

She squealed in delight and clung to Mulder’s shirt, resting her head against his shoulder like a doll. Scully stood up, relieved all of this was settled, and followed them into the room decorated like the sky. Scully grabbed the comforter of the rocketship bed Mulder had made and pulled them back, so he could ease the now sleepy toddler into her cocoon.

Mulder was about to lean down to press a kiss to her forehead when, in a small sleepy voice, she yawned, “Your lucky Mommy’s a doctor.”

They both laughed at the inherent truth in that statement from years of proof. “She didn’t sit on me that hard honey,” he laughed, earning a playful pinch from Scully.

“No, not for that,” Katie sighed, burrowing into bed.

“Then what for, baby?” Scully asked.

“Somethin’s wrong with your pwivate parts Daddy, they don’ look like Mommy’s and mine,” she said seriously, looking in his face, mimicking the same look Scully had given him countless times over the years. “But don’ worry Daddy,” she comforted, freeing one hand to rub it clumsily over the skin of his cheek.  “Mommy’ll cut it off and you’ll be good as new.” Neither of them could help the laughter that escaped that time.

That was a discussion for a later day.

#msr fanfic #msr fluff #x files prompt #x files fanfic #gaycrouton #onlytheineivitable #my fanfiction #dana scully #fox mulder

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Deranged

Summary: Dagur has never been the same since Heather's disappearance. So how can this little boy change anything? Basically a "why Dagur could be so obsessed with Hiccup" fic.

Author’s Notes: I figured, since I have yet to upload any actual art yet, I might aswell upload some fanfiction.

This was originally uploaded to my account on FF.Net and Ao3.

Innocent. Every child is born innocent. That is what they all say, what everyone believes. Children aren't capable of bad things. They don't know what is wrong and what is right, it is the job of parents and mentors to teach them the difference. Bad deeds or unruly behaviour are then almost always blamed on those who raise them, especially the mother, and only sometimes on the life one has lead thus far. Not many realize that, sometimes, but not too often, a babe is simply born different. A fact not a lot of people are willing to face. Even when the blatantly obvious is staring them right in the eye. Sometimes a child isn't born as innocent as they once thought. And when the day comes that they snap, it is all too often over for them. Such was the case with the young Dagur the Deranged. Born in the remarkably peaceful Berserker tribe, the boy was the son of Chief Oswald the Agreeable and his wife, Helga the Fair. Both were caring and nurturing parents, who only had eyes for what was best for him. He was their heir, their son, the apple of their eye. He had his mother's bright red hair and his father's lively green eyes, a healthy babe born with promise in his future. He was their pride, their joy. Dagur wasn't spoiled rotten, but not much was he denied either. He lived the life any heir should. With every opportunity in life laid out before him, all the food and pleasure a child could want, hearing about the grand history of their blood soaked past from tutors and soldiers. He was an only child, born into a life of wealth with all he could ever want and two parents who loved him more than life itself. The day came all too soon when his little sister came. A small baby they named Heather. She took after their father the most with her raven black hair and bright green eyes. Besides their mother's nose, she was the spitting image of their father. Oswald and Helga were delighted to have a daughter and could imagine how close their two children would become. If something were to happen to them, Dagur and Heather would at least have eachother. Through thick and thing, family was important to any Berserker, both by blood and by heart. As a baby and later as a toddler, their little girl naturally demanded a little bit more attention than her four year older brother, particularly from their mother. Dagur didn't mind. Dagur wasn't a jealous child. He wasn't all that troubled either. In fact, he seemed to relish in his role as big brother to little sister Heather. So he can't quite explain why he did it. Why he looked at the cradle with the sleeping girl inside and decided to send it afloat across the sea. What egged him on? What gave him the urge to do it? There was honestly no rhyme or reason. No one told him to do it, no one threatened him, or forced him to do anything he didn't want to do. He just did it. With one push it was done. Heather was gone and she never even cried. She would wake up sometime later and come to realize that she was completely alone in the middle of the ocean, her parents and her home gone. Dagur watched his only little sister drift away knowing just this, taken by the waves of the ocean, and one single thought ran through his mind the further away she got. What kind of a big brother was he?

Life had never quite been the same for the Berserker chief and his family after little Heather's sudden and unexplained disappearance. Poor Helga the Fair's heart was broken beyond repair ever since that dreadful day when she lost her youngest child and some even claim that was the reason she eventually passed away. From a broken heart torn apart by loss. Chief Oswald grew overprotective of Dagur from then on and never again faced a single new day with a genuine smile. After the loss of his daughter and wife all in the span of just one year, something broke inside the man, much like with the love of his life, though he remained a good leader to his people and the best father he could be to his one remaining child. Something had snapped within young Dagur that day too. Through his inexcusable actions, the young child's mind and heart were in pieces and there was no one who could help him put them back together again. There was nothing to be done. Nothing that could be said. Confessions that he was the one who send Heather away went completely ignored too. Nothing he said could make his father believe he was the cause for all their misery, the reason why his mother and sister were no longer with them. It only served to keep the guilt eating away at him. Dagur was the reason his sister was dead. He had send the defenseless little thing afloat in her tiny cradle with his own two hands. It was because of his actions that his mother never stopped crying herself to sleep every night or locked herself away in their home to never again face the light of day now that her heart was a shattered mess. What made his father come home to an empty and cold house was all his fault. He was just a young boy of only six or seven years old and already carried such a large burden of guilt for actions he couldn't come to understand by himself. Just like the rest of his family, Dagur was never the same. There was a burning hole where his painfully throbbing heart used to be and where his still developing mind was now crumbling to. He was a bad child. He knew so for certain.

Four years later, the incident was all but forgotten. The pain he had caused had not numbed even a little bit. His heart ached and his mind had grown rampant mulling over that day time and again with his every waking moment. How it was his fault that his family would never again be complete is something that will haunt him for the rest of his life. The boy was rotting from the inside. He felt like he was. But one visit to Berk, the first one he had ever gone on, might put together that which was ripped apart. That was when the ten year old Berserker heir was introduced to the six year old heir of the Haddock family. Dagur looked at the young boy his father had introduced as Hiccup, who was still stubbornly seeking safety behind his giant of a father, with a look of wild curiosity and wondered if Heather would be this small now. They did look like they were of the same age. They had been formally introduced to one another by their fathers, as was customary for heirs for the first and every time they met. Their fathers were good friends and loyal allies. They hoped their sons would mean the same for eachother. It would be good for both The Hairy Hooligans and the Berserkers. "Come on, Hiccup, don't be stubborn. Chief Oswald and I have important matters to discuss and treaties to signs. Go play with Dagur." Chief Stoick, a man larger than life, shoved the boy forward with utter ease. It was much to this Hiccup's dismay and no amount of strength put into those tiny heels digging in the dirt could stop the little boy from facing Dagur directly. His lips were pursed in a nervous pout and he stared at the older youth with the look a cornered animal would wear. One Dagur quite enjoyed. There was such fright to be seen on his chubby and freckled face. But above all, beneath that voluminous mess of browns, a pair of very green eyes were looking back at him and the older child wondered silently if his sister's eyes had been this green too. They were very similar. So much so, in fact, that something once again changed within the Berserker heir. For once in his life since Heather's mysterious disappearance, Dagur felt the hole in his heart fill up. Four years of relentless agony and unanswered questions, one young boy made it all go away. And all he needed to have were those familiar lively green eyes. "Come with me, Hiccup! I have to show you something!" Grabbing Hiccup's much smaller hand and dragging him away from the two conversing chiefs despites his protests and calls for his father, Dagur felt like a big brother all over again. He would not let this one go.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #dagur #hiccup #dagur the deranged #hiccup haddock #angst #family #drama #riders of berk #defenders of berk #rtte #rob #dob #race to the edge

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Part Four IT Microfiction!

Pennywise is never far from my mind. He is a fascinating, annoying, and terrifying presence in my life. I never had this close of contact with a subject and he alludes to the idea that there are more like him. I want to understand him and where he comes from. I only know the bare basics about him. He’s an alien from another dimension. His name is not pronounceable with human vocal cords. Technically, he is not a he, just that the closest representation of his true self is a male by human standards. He is millions of years old. Something about being pure energy and a giant spider… He had some sort of quarrel with a turtle?

When he’s not with me (which is 99% of his time), he’s in the sewers hiding or doing whatever aliens do. He used to also hide in an old house and scare anyone who dared come within his reach, but it was torn down in ’95. Inside was the old well that supplied the city in its first few years. It was sealed during the demolition. He would often use that well as access to and from the sewers. I’d never venture to either one or want think of all the places my mouth has been on the body of something that spends it’s time in the sewers.

I think he liked having that house, he still complains about a kid who insulted it.

“He called it a crack house! I know what crack is!” He exclaims, indignantly.

“Well, you did live in a crack house.” I reply.

“That’s not the point!” He huffs and pouts.

I try to puzzle him out. Are we talking Mass Effect like aliens who are civilized or xenomorphs that are more animalistic? He’s obviously intelligent and sentient so the rest of his species must be too. Did he come from an established society? Did he have parents or some sort of family line?

I decided to try to interview him one day. I expected it to be like herding squirrels. He doesn’t have the greatest attention span. I wasn’t sure what I would do with the information, I couldn’t slap it on my blog proclaiming I had managed to interview a cryptid. No one would take me seriously ever again. It’s ironic, I run a paranormal blog were my readers want this kind of contact, but the minute I make real and tangible contact with a subject like I have with Pennywise and put it out there, I’d be fitted for a strait jacket.

“Where are you from?” I asked, my phone recording us. Most paranormal phenomenon messed with electronics. His presence never caused such a thing.

He thought for a moment, then grabbed my hand and led me outside. He looked up at the sky, spun in a half circle and moved a few feet past my house.

“Right there,” He said pointing to a spot in the sky.

For all I knew, he could be pointing to an arbitrary spot.

Suddenly, he starts sniffing like a bloodhound, creeping up on a scent.

“I can smell the internet.” He says and is gone.

I am left there trying to understand his thought process but decide it’s better not to.

A few days later, I was able to understand what he meant. Prior to the ‘I smell the internet’ thing, I had gotten a hate comment on one of my posts. It was the same dribble most women get when taking up space online, ‘I’ll rape you till you die cunt’ and mansplaining how I was wrong about everything. It was an unfortunately common occurrence.

I thought nothing of it, that it was just some guy who was angry that he couldn’t get off. I deleted the comment and reported it to my hosting domain.

The next day, I was at the grocery store stocking up for the week. A fat hand reached for the same box of cereal I was grabbing for and we both knocked it to the ground. I bent to pick up when I noticed this person had a literal bite mark in his chubby, hairy calf. I stood thinking that maybe he ran into a grumpy dog. He looked at me like most people look at Pennywise.

“Are you okay, dude?” I asked.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, running out of the store.

Later that day, I got an email about the comment from my host saying the user had lost their account privileges. It displayed the comment in question and the user’s avatar. It was the man from the grocery store.

Just looking at this slovenly and sweaty guy, I could see why Pennywise only took a chunk of his leg. He does have some dietary standards it seems.

Living with him has been a weird experience. It’s like living with a komodo dragon. It could probably kill you. He may humanoid, but he was still a bit feral. Yeah, I have a feral clown living with me.

Most of his knowledge about humans is outdated or he simply has no concept of something. His contact with humans was limited to stalking and eating them before he met me.  He knew what sex was, it’s purpose and how humans do it. He had the broad strokes, but not the fine details. I’d thought he die of an orgasm when I introduced him to period sex.

He understands most human limitations (and disregards or exploits them), that when we’re born, we’re more or else stuck with our appearance. I found him watching shows about plastic surgery on my laptop and the only word that seemingly encapsulates his feelings towards surgery is: barbaric; that humans, sometimes electively, will let other humans tear us open, move stuff around, add something new or take something away completely. More irony. I would assume the healthcare system where he’s from is quite different. Not all of us are shapeshifters like you are, Penn.

He’s not actually a clown, he knows just as much about the persona to lure victims in. A clown is just the form he likes the best; it helps him catch his meals and scares people, a win-win for him. Kids (an easy target) like clowns and people fear them.

An annoying thing he does is taking my things. I lost so many pairs of panties to that dumb clown alien. He took my fluffy makeup powder brush AND my favorite highlighters (as in the writing utensil and makeup product). He even stole my favorite blanket. What will he take next? My favorite novel? Can he even read English? Does his species have a writing system?

He likes to watch me cook, which is funny since he lives on a raw diet. I probably should detest him, but obviously, his species is higher on the food chain than humans. Maybe I’m rationalizing it. We shouldn’t mess with the natural order of things. I am rationalizing it.

I gave him War Heads candy once and he has been constantly sucking on one or six, grimacing at the sourness and drooling. I want to give him Pop Rocks next. I plan to actually cook a simple meal for him, just to see what’ll happen.

He drank one of my perfumes, too, thinking it was potable. Maybe it was to him, it didn’t seem to bother him.

I watched in horror as a $90 liquid slid down his throat.

“That was Marc Jacobs, you idiot!” I screeched.

He didn’t understand.

“You spray it on yourself to smell good.” I explained, tersely.

“You smell tasty to me without it.” He shrugged.

I took the bottle from his gloved hand, cradling it like an injured bird. “It wasn’t for you to enjoy.”

He took my phone while I was napping. He found YouTube watched four cat videos, three Lady Gaga music videos (good taste, my clown alien), one and half makeup tutorials and seven from NASA about aliens and our galaxy.  In between videos, he texted my mom for an hour.

Mom: Hi, honey, are you still in Maine?

Pennywise: The main Maine mane!!!!!!!!

Mom: Clever. How is your article coming?

Pennywise: Stupendously!!!!!!!

Mom: That’s good, Dad and I were getting curious, you’ve never stayed somewhere this long before.

Pennywise: I met someone!!!!

Mom: Really?

Pennywise: He’s a real looker, too!!1!1

Mom: Is he from Maine?

Pennywise: Sort of!!!! :D

Mom: You’re acting strange, are you drunk?

Pennywise: What’s drunk? That sounds fun!!

I started to wake up around this point and haven’t heard back from Mom. I have no idea how I’ll explain this. Guess he can read English.

He may take my stuff, but he’ll also bring me stuff. He’s brought me a beautiful and ornate vintage jewelry box that was probably made before my grandparents were born; a handful of marbles, a key that is probably older than the country, a freshly molted feather from a raven, a raw amethyst and a single earring that looked like it was from the 80s.

I think he sees me as his human, someone worthy of his attention and protection (while still wanting to eat me. That’s the ultimate possession, I guess?). I think his gifts are endearing, but the second he brings a snack with him and/or one for me, we’re going to have issues.

It all leaves me wondering is this how his species shows romantic affection. How does his species mark their loved ones to show the rest of society that they are off the market? Bringing gifts, spending a lot of time with their significant other and a possessive protection while still wanting to eat me is my best guess.

I am protected by a bucktooth, feral clown.

Yep.

#long post #pennywise fanfiction #it 2017 #microfiction #pennywise

[beowulfs-booty-call]

1 13 15 30

Had to listen to Studio Killers for this ask because I can just feel the maturity for this one.

1. describe your idea of a perfect date

Imagine, me and someone at a café somewhere. Maybe the city, maybe their hometown, maybe even my own spot.

The place is warm, the weather is slightly cold, but not too cold you can’t wear just a flannel and jeans (Wow, Beo, real easy subtle there.) but we just sit inside this real cozy cafe, its all old school, there’s jazz by George Benson playing like this

We’re locking eyes, me and them. The drinks are warm, but they’re not scalding, I’m writing in my little travel journal about the place, about the atmosphere, so on, maybe even doodles of the person. 

There’s light jokes strewn here and there, there’s nothing stiff about it, there’s fingers graze across mine on accent, and we both recline back out of fluster and second hand embarrassment. The person and I both apologize, but I tell ‘em I don't mind, it was warm. Slowly, we put our hands together and we can't get them off, we’re holding hands together, sipping our drinks and just talking about life, our hopes and dreams, the good stuff chai lattes were made for. 

The song’s picking up pitch, they know I’m tapping to the beat as the rain starts coming down. It’s light, it’s cool, and I’ve no umbrella with me, just me, my backpack, and my wallet/keys/phone. I gesture out to the rain, they nod.

We don’t know where we’re going, but we take our drinks and dash out in the rain like children. The song’s stuck in my head, like some big montage in a musical number, we hit up merchant shops, gemstone and oddities stores, my eyes bug out when I noticed a skull box or a cursed mirror for sale.

The entire me and that person don’t let go of each other’s hands, they’re stuck and we don’t give a damn. I roll up my sleeves to buckle down to nab us something to eat but its just comedic, I flip up, the person can’t help but laugh because I messed up an order (like I ordered chicken but the person brings a lobster dinner fit for two) and things are okay, I’ve nothing on my calendar or scheduled so it’s an adventure. 

And we end it at midnight, watching the stars and moon, my flannel’s all roughed up from some of the coffee they drank, and my shirt’s beginning to smell like them, because we’re cuddling on the grass on a hill overlooking the moon and clouds. My collars all wrinkled, I have a smudge of food still on my cheek that’s smudged off, and my ears are all red. 

We whisper sweet little nothings to each other, and its a big old debate whether or not to really get up. When we do, though, it’s still the fact that the night’s here and people have to sleep.

How we get home, no one knows, but we do, wether by truck or train. And we part, the person and I, maybe a hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek, but I feel something slipped into my pocket, or in my hands, or even when I leave I check for my keys and find something.

A little thing to remind myself of that date, maybe the receipt of the cafe where someone scrawled “You two look great together...!” or maybe a trinket from a shop.

All I know is, I’d never forget being someone’s adventure that day, or being someone’s travel partner.

13. what is a misconception you had about lgb people before you realized you were one?

I actually didn’t think there was the LGBT until about a good well number of years back. Yes, I knew about drag queens and other themes of the LGBT com. and such, but man, when I was younger I was fostered on the “You’re going to hell if you like the same gender or want to be the gender you felt you should have been born as” and Ironically when around the same time I became a witch, I realized the community was there.

You see, I knew about the community, but not as the official term, much less, the community was more than few people. It was terrible feeling that way, because I was in the closet for so very long. It was terrible being yelled at for crossing my legs or accidentally saying, “Well, I think you look good, so, I like you like that.” to some guy in high school and having people gawk at you, or being called a woman by my own father because of my voice and because I gestured with my hands.

My sexuality was questioned a lot, because, I was rather vague about myself, I had my interests, and while I had my life in front of me, many times I felt alone because of it. Was there people who felt the same way as me? Were there others who felt it was fine falling in love with a man or woman?

Are my feelings valid?

I made the mistake of believing there weren’t people out there who supported my life or my being, because it was so easy seeing how we were treated because of it. We had the episode of the Golden Girls where Blanche’s brother was gay and he was the butt of a few jokes, but also Blanche’s rage until Sophia stepped in, we were and are the butt of jokes at times, including on tv and cartoons in implications, but we were there. And it hurt. I felt it was awful how we were restricted for being who we were, and I felt worse for really thinking there wasn’t people who wasn’t like me because of the way I feel about people.

But, that mistake belied that in the end, we weren't represented as much as we are now, and still need to be. Kids need that support and representation I for one, didn't receive until nowadays because it causes them to worry, as well as mistake the heteronormative way we grow up as the be all - end all, and that scared the shiitake mushrooms out of me back then. Your parents could love you, but would they love after you finally had the guts to say, “Hey, mom and dad, remember how there’s always the notion that a man and woman need to get married? Yeah, well, I as a guy, love both genders / Men.” is the fear most gay kids would have, and vice versa for Lesbians as well. Even worse for my trans peeps who felt uncomfortable with the gender they were assigned with / wanted to become the person they wanted to be (If my language isn’t appropriate, please do tell me, and I’ll tailor it as needed by you!). Like, it’s so easy to feel alone when you were never really represented as anything but, “Oh, xyz? Oh you mean (Insert trope like Lesbians being written off / flamboyant gay men / crossdressing as a “joke” trope)” And you get put off by it so much you try thinking, “maybe I’m wrong” or “Maybe, I will go to hell, because this is bad.” And it’s not. At. All.

15. (if attracted to more than one gender) do you have different “types” for different genders?

I somehow knew this was coming so, *Cracks knuckles* let’s get to it, Sailor Style™ :

I’m a huge Sailor Venus fan, so, I pride myself on being able to love many people and “types” of people, of both guys and gals. 

Guys: BIG. THICC. MEN. 

LIKE

GIVE ME YOUR HAIRY, BIG, BELLIED AND SKINNY AND EVEN BUFF MEN WHO NEED SOME LOVING AND I AM HERE. 

I love thicc guys because, well, I love the idea of having someone bigger than me on some aspects. That said, I’m kinda a big guy myself at 178 pounds and at 6′2 (I believe is the last I scaled myself or an inch off) and I also don’t mind someone smaller so to speak. Really, I’m the sort who falls for all kinds of men, because, I seriously love boys. 

But I also love guys who know about themselves well enough too. I’m the guy who wants to share himself in a relationship. Not in the sense that I’m making it all about me, but in a relationship, imo, you’re sharing both of yourselves in it. Interests, love, commitment, it’s all there. I want to grow as a person and lover, and I want to share that growing person with someone. If you can’t handle that, you’d best find someone else, unfortunately. 

Also, Daddy types are my thing too, I’m leaning onto the archetype too, lol, but that’s a different story all together. My thing is, if a guy is big, bonus points, he got a belly? Extra points. He got abs and or pecs to die for? He’s got me all the way there. Hairy? Love it. No hair? Just as nice. 

Scared no one likes their body because they’re “too” (Skinny, big, etc etc) I’ll kiss them fears away. Confident in his life choices or isn’t as much and wants to better himself? Sign me tf up.

He can pay for my college ed because I can satisfy him? Fuck me up then.

Also like, jocks and bodybuilders are also kind of a thing for me with the way I train, but my guy, consider really nerdy guys who are like, big gentle giants and are really BIG and like dogs. Yes.

Pretty boys just don’t do it for me though.

They just don’t.

Girls: Really, I just love girls who are girls. Women are already kinda amazing on their own, so, like, the bar isn’t set up at all because in general I feel like if a girl is ready to share herself and sharing myself with her, we’re really fine.

If someone can match me in terms of books / literature, I give bonus points, but I just love girls who are confident in themselves. Like,

“I can make the fucking world burn, but you’d be damned if you cross me.”?

Yeah, I’m their biggest fan.

Really. Big women, small women, girls who read a lot, girls who exercise a lot, it doesn’t really “matter” per say because in the end, I know that I really do like them just being, well, themselves. It’s vague af compared to guys, and I apologize for that, but I lean more to guys, and girls wise, I’m more into the type of girl who can rock the world, and me, to the very core. So, when it comes to girls, I’m more submissive because I simply like girls who could really take me for a spin so to speak. (Plus I’m weak for women who could legit you know, suplex a guy.) 

Realistically, strong women, girls who have no problem with a little meat on their bones or rolls on their bodies (We all have em tbh), really romantic girls.

Like, Allura is a great example of the type of girl I’m into. She’s strong, she’s intellectual about the galaxy and in the world as a whole, but she’s got purpose. Make her chubby, and she’s still the same Altean princess who can kick ass. Make her buff, and she can literally squat using the Paladins. It doesn’t change that I’d admire her still.

Apologies if it’s not more defined...!

Non Binary: Really, I can’t say per say, but really, both genders apply too. Like, if you are big, small, tall or short, it doesn’t matter. I’d still love someone who’s confident in themselves. It’s hard really explaining my types, because, I have never really organized them, so much as think of them. But, I’ll still fall in love with your scars, your rolls, your arms, legs, everything some way or another. I really do pride myself over that fact, small as it may seem to some.

Being able to lift me over her shoulders and bench press me or squat is a huge af bonus point award for both / all genders tbh.

30. what is a piece of advice for people who may not be in a safe place to express their sexuality

Know you’re not alone!!!I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH!!!

Don’t be like me feeling icky because people told him being gay / bi was “Icky and sinful UwU”. Don’t be me who stayed up at night feeling like throwing up because I felt if I dreamed of falling in love with a man, I’d burn in hell. Don’t also ever feel guilty for looking at a guy or gal, and thinking, “Damn, I’d totally love to wake up in the morning next to them.”

(We can’t prove hell really exists, so, don’t also be indoctrinated to that idea either, kiddos.)

 And, don't ever feel that you are gross because you are different. Celebrate it instead and be you when you’re able to, even if it’s online only, or even alone only. Those small celebrations are what makes life worth it.

Also, do find others who are LGBT too, because it HELPS, even if they’re only allies, being able to talk about things are all you need to worry at times, you don’t have to be out, but to your friends who understand? That’s a big relief imo.

Also, because I’m in one myself rn, don't be afraid to subtly express yourself the way you want to. Fashion wise, it’s slightly easier, words, “eh”, but if that means you watching a good LGBT repping show at night with earbuds, don’t even think a second thought and you tell me how it was.

You watch those shows that make you happy, and you do the same, but make sure to always look over your shoulder, always have a tab on yourself, and never give into the pressures people place on you. Never give the pressures keeping you back any chance. Online may be a safe space for you, maybe, the only one there is, but know, later on in life, you will be free to finally be you, and when you do?

I’ll be so proud of you. So, if you can’t be yourself outside the computer, don’t fret over it. You’ve a right to vent out to someone, much less, a therapist or even on your blog, but do right to yourself. If that means cutting off some people, do it. If that means not supporting their beliefs, by all means.

+ Don’t ever, ever, ever try to deny yourself if you really know yourself. You are your best friend in that scenario, because if you’re like me, you don’t really have anyone else near you or in front of yourself. So take care of yourself. Mentally, physically, and spiritually. And do not ever think for one second that you don’t belong or you don’t deserve to exist or live because you feel you are comfortable with someone of the same gender, or because you feel you should be yourself but haven't had the opportunity to do so because of society / your parents / other toxic stuff. 

Instead, do your best, take it all in, cry if you can or want to when you’re alone, and push on and be the best fucking you there’ll ever be. Because honeys, if you can’t love yourself, who the hell is gonna love somebody else without some real self love? So be proud, be you on the inside, and keep on fighting till you’re away and ready to be you. You’re gonna be a wonderful person when you’re away from all this mess some day in the future. And I can’t wait to see the person you become / are, that day.

#Gosh #thanks for asking! #David #Wulfden #Girafari-g-irafarig #This took so much thinking...! #girafari-g-irafarig

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Jack is Back

Author: ShoysRock

Year: 2011

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Vince/Kodiak Jack

"Howard? HOWARD?”

“You're all alone my little flower-girl.” The man grunted, wetting his lips with a thick tongue. Vince backed up as much as he could, blindly reaching around to try to find something, anything to prevent inevitable rape.

But he couldn't. His wrist was grasped, held firm in the demanding thick clammy hands of the woodsman. Vince was in a panick, horrified now he couldn't squirm his arm out of his grasp, the man hungry...hungry for him.

“I'm not even a woman you berk!” Crying out the rank tobacco breath assaulted him as the older man went in to his neck. Choking he was being roughly slobbered and nibbled, the flannal-plaid man grinding his body against him. It was quite an odd, but horrible feeling. Blushing Vince wished he could slap himself for making the loud shrill squeaks instead of screams he was making; he couldn't help it if his neck was so sensitive! Not to mention his only free arm from the grasp trapped between his sweaty chest and his own, starting to shake as he unsuccessfully squirmed.

“Hnng!” Well that's a hickie right there! “GET OFF OF ME!”

“Now now pumpkin-pie, don't worry I like 'em young, man or girly-lady.”

Vince wished he didn't hear that the man was playing for both teams.

Shutting his eyes he gave a buck, trying to kick his legs into Jack's groin. Unfortunately the man was too thick, his knees giving in as the man moved in to kiss him.

It was sloppy, tasting awful, worse than any woman he ever kissed. Vince's legs continued trying to push and kick but they were trapped, his body crushed against the wall while his mouth was violated. The mustache was making his upper lip tingle and itch badly.

How did it come to this? I could have ran! He thought, whimpering and grunting as the other grunted for a different reason. Something hard, not a hand was pressing into his stomach and he flinched with disgust, knowing what it was. His breath was being sucked out, like his saliva. His arms, trapped and pushing in the mess of vest and flannel as he was no longer properly standing on two feet...

It was getting incredibly arousing. He wasn't usually the one helpless. It was feeling quite wrong and confusing to him, being raped an all.

Pulling away Kodiak's lusts could not be contained anymore. With the strength of a bear he yanked off Vince's red scarf, giving him a burn. Yelping Vince's wrist was free, but his belt was quickly unlooped and pants shoved down, dropping past his thighs.

Aww shit... he thought, standing in his underwear with an erection jabbing into his hip.

“Mmm you so beautiful, so purty and all...”Kodiak Jack whispered in a harsh tone, rough like his unkempt beard. With another cry of protest Vince was yanked into his arms and nearly tossed to the mattress, head nearly bumping the wooden bedposts. The yellow light from the lantern on the bedside illuminated Jack's face as he laughed heartily and mounted him, Vince kicking best he can with pants around his ankles.

“HOWARD!?! NABOO! BOLLO! I'M GETTING...I'M GETTING RAAAPED!” Vince didn't care if he was screaming like a girl, stating the obvious. His hands were slapping and clawing at Jack's face, the man out of reach as he rudely ripped off his 'lady's Chelseas and skinny jeans. With an 'eek!' Vince shut his bare legs, wishing he wore underwear today.

“Ahh, you're biiiiig too!” Vince looked at him, panting already from the hammering heart in his ribcage. The way the man was looking at him, pushing his legs up to inspect his man-bits, made his gut flutter. It felt wrong, so very wrong that an insane bisexual hunter would eye his flaccid penis with such a sexual intent.

“F-fuck off!” Sitting up was not an option, his hips were lifted up as the hairy man settled into his crotch. He was even aware of the harsh, quick whimpers in his gasping breath from the fright and sensation of the braided beard tickling his legs and groin. But now was his chance! With a cry he punched the man in his nose when he leaned in a little too close. The beastly being snorted and growled, tossing his hat off and grabbing the protesting limbs. Vince's fearful frown became even frownier, yelping as Jack used his scarf to tie his hands together. Pushing them up over his head the long extra length was worked into a quick, complicated fishing knot to the bed-board.

I'm not going to escape, aren't I?

Both men were panting after this. Vince was wriggling like a fish, blue eyes wide like a fish, mouth open crying out in the frustration of being tied up like a fish out of water. His legs kicking once grabbed and pushed up, the sleek pale fashion-thighs and calves kicking in the air uselessly with the strength of a powerful swimming fish. Jack pushed up Vince's shirt, satisfying his lust at looking at the young man's nipples and undulating torso's muscles writhing and rippling like the waves on a lake. In fact, if there was anything besides game-hunting Jack loved fish-euphemisms, and so did he like his previous hermaphrodite mermangina lover...but that's another story, for another time. Fish.

But for now Jack imagined his squirming little feisty city-boy like a trapped rabbit, its 'foot' stuck in the clutches of his rusty bear traps. Course, now the trap would be his mouth. He couldn't wait to get a taste and make his little bunny-honey mewl with pleasure instead of terror.

“Just relax baby-boo, I just wanna have a taste of you, you do look so yummy, been a long time...”

Vince watched in horror as the man smiled happily and went down to his cock. Jerking he gasped as the man sucked him up, licking and slobbering his dick while the beard and mustache tickled his inner thigh and balls. The sensations were immediate: pleasure and a weightless, hopeless feeling pooling with the pulse to his hardening organ responding to the wetness of the dirty man's mouth. That and a curious-disgust.

“Stop it...stop...stop it...” His voice came out in a cracked whimper, his mouth dry from breathing so hard and loud. His head was up, watching as he got a sloppy blow job from a horny old man.

“Mmmpfh...” With a pop he pulled from the tip, smiling like a demented grandpa as he went down again, sucking the tip as chubby callused fingers quickly pumped his shaft.

I don't want it! I don't! “I...d...d-don't...”

“Come on Vincy, give in to me, I know you like it! All you pompadours like toot-toots!” Jack wasn't good at deep throating, but he did his best taking at least half of Vince's manhood to suck up and down, teeth sometimes chewing on him. Vince was feeling just enough arousal to stand nearly straight up, the teeth and horror doing in the rest of the blood flow to his heart to loudly and quickly beat.

“N-no...” His neck was hurting from its position and unfortunately the tricky suction and tongue swirling around was distracting him. Helplessness, sheer helplessness in his bound state gave him the most weirdest blowjob sensations he ever felt. Usually he was the dominant, yelling 'oh yeaaaah!' to the lovely lady...but this wasn't a lovely lady, it was a wild-man who's hairy face was scratching his bits.

“I can't take it anymore Vincy, let me take us away, up to the moooon!”

Vince let out a sigh of breath, rolling his eyes back with a moan. The tongue strayed too dangerously wonderful against the underside, but now the man was panting and slumped on top of him. He was jerked back into reality, a reality where his dick was swollen and a man was lustfully kissing him again. The sound of a zipper assaulted his ears. Something hot and hard sprung out, rubbing against his own dick to create a sudden sensation that alerted Vince to the prone nakedness of his untouched anus.

“Mpfff...MPFFH!” He groaned and protested into the saltier mouth, sucking in breath through his nose as he watched Jack pull out a tube of lube and an old-packaged condom.

“Never leave home without grannie's good ol' lubrication!” He laughed and pulled back, tearing open the condom with his yellow teeth. Vince's stomach lurched again at the knowledge the man's mouth was so dirty, and was around his own cold wet cock moments ago. Jack sat back, moaning as he slipped the protection on his stout shaft...Vince stared at it, gulping at how thick it was; it surely, surely couldn't...

“MmmMMM! You look so fiiiine...” Jack obviously couldn't recognize the look of terror on Vince's face. Unpopping the cork he gooped the beige-tinted lube on himself and his fingers, which were quick to finger Vince's unprepared rectum.

“Oh...GOD!” Huffing Noel arched, wincing as he braced himself. The finger was thrusting and wriggling, stretching as much as it could in Vince's tightness. It was hurting and an odd sensation for the lad, his breath hitching once Jack carelessly shoved another, humming and 'ooo!ing' at how sexy and nonconsensual Vince looked. In and out, in and out the fingers went, sucked tight into Vince.

“N-no seriously don't...I'm not i-into being bummed by Grizzely A-...Ah...AHDAMS..!”

It was hurting more now. But unfortunately it wasn't for long. While being scissored by the fingers they went in deep and were pushing against the fleshy organ, his prostrate. Each slow thrust into the tight suction touched against the male weakness.

“...a...h...ah...”

“That's a good boy now, likin' me a little more! Now I'm gonna fuck ya like a beast, lady!”

Withdrawing his fingers Vince hadn't realized how tense he was. He relaxed with a loud sigh from the break, though he still was sweating and making the soft noises of fear in his breath. Jack pushed his legs apart even more, spreading his saliva-drenched pelvis for the man to mount him. Making a gruff noise Jack grasped his slimy self and started to push himself into the hole.

“N...No! S-stop it! No, no, no, NO, NO, NO!”

His calls were unheeded, rising in pitch as he felt every hard inch of it slip inside. The lube was good, making it slip into the tightness. He clenched around it as he bucked, squirmed, shut his eyes to chew his lips at the odd and stretching sensations. It was very warm and he could feel the racing pulse of Jack inside, thrusting in and out a little to push deeper and deeper. Opening his eyes he saw how disgustingly pleased Jack looked, mouth open and drool in his beard, his eyes shut as Jack's hips roughly undulated in his thrusts. Vince was throbbing just as much as the elder in him, that is his anus muscles tight around his manhood. It was utterly distracting how powerful the sensation of that was. Vince couldn't stop trembling, no matter how many times he gulped down the achy butterflies in his throat.

“Oooh you're so good my bunny-pie!” Jack panted, smiling as he thrust a little harder. The man finally gave out from sitting up, panting as his hands were running all over Vince's body. Sweat against sweat Vince cried out, the angle changing a little in the copulation. He couldn't do anything to push the man's fingers off him, to remove them from brushing over his tingling nipples or arm pits. The salty smoky breath blasted his face and he turned his head, finding the pillow very convenient to try to muffle the childish fearful sounds he was making. He didn't want to cry out like this, whimpering like a dog or an abused child or a teddy bear set on fire in its dying stuffing.

The thrusting was faster now, the grunting loud in his ear. The breath was probably curling his hair into odd twisted shape. Worse He had to flinch again, Jack pushed his hair away and was sloppily kissing his ear as he fucked him.

“Nnn! Ah...H-help...F...fuck!”

Jack moaned as he pushed in far too easily, because his cock brushed again Vince's prostrate, his form crushing Vince now was rubbing his beer-belly against Vince's wet dick...and it kept hitting there. Vince's muscles spasmed and relaxed, flushing with blood and heat as he mewled. He didn't even notice for a moment as his heart fluttered and face blushed, relaxing with a loud moan into the quick thrusts of his rapist. The sensations against his cock were delightful, like a sloppy half-formed handjob around him, while the REAL pleasure was happening deep, deeper inside...

Vince started to notice, shakingly moaning and his eyes fluttering around in their sockets. His wrists were flexing, but the hands were gripping with terror. His hips were jerking in response to Jack's wild pace, the older man blubbering into his ear sweet raspy nothings.

“T-this is wrong...oh...God...wrong...wrong...wrong...”

I shouldn't be enjoying this! I'm getting raped! I should be sobbing, screaming!

He didn't want to feel it. He didn't want a hairy man's stubble and whiskers rubbing against his face. He didn't want to feel an annoying, pleasurable sensation pulsing through him from the stimulation inside and out. It was perplexing him, confusing. Wrong.

“Imma let you cum first sweetie-bee, lady's first!”

The old man's fist reached under and started to pump him. It was lubricated a little with his previous saliva, now the cold wetness warming from body heat.

“No sir, no I...don't need it no...s-seriously...hng...!” He bucked and yowled like a cat. The fisting was so fast, so much! Now Vince knew he was going to lose his mind. Gasping he gave in, legs limp and hip bones pressed against Jack as he took it deeper and deeper and the handjob faster and faster.

Don't...c-...c...

The mattress creaked loudly when Noel opened his mouth, letting out a yell. He spurted all over, flexing and heaving in the surprise-throes of ecstasy. He came so quickly, so suddenly in the wild mess of the fucking that was pounding his ass. Jack cooed and moaned, “Ahhh yes my Vincy!” not even caring his button down shirt was now coated with jizz, smearing all over the pale boy's stomach beneath him. Thoughts were suspended in the moments of his wild bucking, spilling his load out of the fist that caused it, pleasing his rapist.

“Gunna...ohoh!” Shutting his eyes Kodiak Jack let go of the now flaccid penis, grabbing unto his shoulders to steady his final thrusts. “I...OH...OH VINNNNNCYYYY!!!”

Vince's yelp was shaky, ending with a rattled breath of surprise, eyes lidded as he felt hot semen fill his insides. Both of the men were gasping for breath, Kodiak mumbling in a weird squealy voice as he slowly thrusted in and out of the channel, Vince fluttering his eyes shut to let the emotions wash over him. Shame, terror, and nagging pleasure was thrumming his whole brain. He felt like crying and yet going to faint with a smile on his face. It felt good, it felt bad, it felt sick...and his rear felt a bit distended and stinging once Jack slipped himself out. And then he felt flattened, whimpering once he collapsed on him to gasp and groan. He smelled like musk oxen.

It was a full minute for Vince to come down from his fleeting orgasm. He wasn't cold but warm from their heat and the sticky sweat they built up. His arms were aching from being held up so long, tied to the bed. His eat was wet and so was his left arm from his own drool and lips from when his head tossed back and forth, up and down in the act of copulation. His legs were trembling as he thought over what just occurred and how he was going to be dealing with being violated now in his life, especially so impromptu, tied up and fucked by the cabin leaser.

“H-Howard please c-come back...please...” He pleaded. It was what he could do at the moment, trapped and flabbergasted still. Jack laughed, rolling off of him and curling his fingers into Vince's hair, playing with the black curls like a doll.

“Mmm, such a fiiiiiine fine fuck you was girl, maybe we could go again...” He grunted, gently kissing Vince.

Vince didn't know what was keeping Howard and the gang, but he sure hoped it was soon again. He was surely in for a hard night, worse than boning any Yeti could be.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #vince noir #kodiak jack #vince noir/kodiak jack