#Drew Taylor

[disneytva]

🌟I'm incredibly proud to announce that the Art of Amphibia will be available for purchase on November 17th this year, wherever books are sold🌟

This beautiful hardbound book will contain 224 pages full of carefully curated artwork from all three seasons. We're talking never before seen conceptual sketches, storyboards, paintings, written testimonials from the crew and much, much more. I'm so grateful to TOKYO POP for continuing to partner with us to get these Amphibia books made. This one in particular is a dream come true - artwork for animated TV shows like ours is too often left forever archived, never to be enjoyed or treasured.

Please look forward to the book. The team working on it is the same as Marcy's Journal so you KNOW it's gonna be good. --- Matt Braly

[dealwrought]

/whispers watch storror

[lumpier-realm]

I love how he just knows that!

PARKOUR DOG is BETTER THAN YOU! 🇩🇪

[nexte-spote]

Sorry for the break in content but here are some memes!

Bonus: webweaving-ish one

[seth-kia]

anyone know what's been up with Drew lately? his insta's down, hasn't been in the recent non-join storror vids. any updates on if he's okay?

[recklesstorrorcave]

so um hey? haha.. guess who decided to come out of their hiding hole? yeah i know it's been two bloody years :') (i *do* have a good excuse, i graduated! omw to college lmao🥲)

ANYWHO, it's been such a long while and i've been going back to watching the boys since i'm on vacation, so here are the memes. getting rusty making these but enjoy :')

::: STORROR MEMES🔥 :::

✨️BRAND NEW EDITION✨️

:::: so it's literally 8am rn as i type, i'm 210% sleep-deprived but i'm so hyperfixated on storror these days so yeah- i really had a lot of fun with these!! hope you liked it though :') enough chitchat. that'll be all for now, be back soon <3 also a happy belated birthday to my kangaroo boi callum!! :D

[carrs-universe-writes]

*blows a kiss to the candy aisle at the grocery store* for Drew <3

Drew is IN the candy aisle trying to decide between two of the big bulk mixes of candy

[a-solitary-sea-rover-backup]

Collectively, Bruce Taylor and his son Drew Taylor have spent the best part of a lifetime sailing in the Rolex Sydney Hobart Yacht Race. Sailing on Bruce Taylor’s Reichel/Pugh 40, Chutzpah, this year’s race will be their 30th together from a total of 72 starts between them, starting on December 26, 2023.

It will mark a record for a father and son combination in the race that is organized by the Cruising Yacht Club of Australia in Rushcutters Bay, Sydney. “This year will be Drew’s 30th and all of his Hobarts have been with me,” Bruce, 73, confirmed.

While Drew Taylor will get to celebrate his 30th start in the 628 nautical mile race, it will be the 42nd for Bruce, who sailed in 12 Hobarts before Drew took to the event.

Bruce is immensely proud of their father-son bond as Hobart crew mates that began in 1978 when Drew was 16 after having proven his ability on “a few delivery trips.” At the time, the Sydney Hobart did not have the current regulation that required sailors in the race to be at least 18 years old.

[lensinski]

the official mission impossible podcast

[seek--rest]

stan culture is a disease that I will never understand. I cannot reconcile the cognitive dissonance of reading that your favorite star actively avoids going out because of the stalker, creepy photos and videos that people are taking and somehow accept this as okay because “that’s the price of being famous” no. no it isn’t. a celebrity acknowledging that their fandom is fucking deranged and has entire accounts dedicated to stalking your every move does not magically give everyone a pass to keep doing it. it’s not PR. it’s not fun. the normalization of the actual stalking of celebrities and bending over backwards to defend what you all do is absolutely fucking bizarre.

[fleuraimer]

hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

[disneytva]

The Art Of Amphibia To Feature Foreword By Anne Boonchuy's Voice Actress Brenda Song

"THE ART OF AMPHIBIA" Art Book by TOKYO POP & Disney Publishing Worldwide will have a foreword by Brenda Song giving her retrospective on the whole series 🐸💙💎

📚The Art Of Amphibia - November 19, 2024

Matt Braly

Drew Taylor

TOKYO POP

Disney Press

Disney Books

Disney Publishing Worldwide

Disney Hyperion

Amphibia chronicles the adventures of three best friends who find themselves magically transported to the world of Amphibia, a wild marshland tropical island full of anthropomorphic amphibians and dangerous beasts. The three girls are separated when they arrive in Amphibia, and must go on their own fantastical journeys to reunite and save their new friends. Following the success of Marcy’s Journal, TOKYOPOP presents The Art of Amphibia. Lovingly crafted by Matt Braly, the creator and showrunner of the Disney animated series, this hardcover book features behind-the-scenes artwork from the television series and written insights and testimonials from the crew.  Packed to the brim with never-before-seen character designs, location designs, and development art, this book is a delight for Amphibia fans

[tampire]

This gifset slaps!

[lumpier-realm]

...next up was Callum, whose willy was about to shrink to such a size that we actually didn't need to pixelate it.

STORROR'S STRAIGHT LINE Hardest Mile - Winter Edition 🥶

[nexte-spote]

Storror sketches!

[seth-kia]

my favorite storror gag: low quality pictures of Drew being objectively terrified in various ways