#its just under a layer of fat LOL

[rubyreduji]

i wanna write a fic but idk how the feedback would be on it...

[fredwkong]

The Boxers

Sometimes, the perfect life just finds you, bruh.

I used to be a pretty normal guy. Wait, scratch that, I was a total fuckin’ nerd. I spent all my time playin’ video games and readin’ fantasy books and shit. I was getting a degree in computer science, so I spent all my time alone, coding shitty apps and nerding out on Reddit.

I had, like, no sex life, lmao. I was a weedy little Indian geek, bro, you know the type, right? I had negative game. Every weekend, I’d spend all night playing WoW or whatever, then go to bed and fantasise about how many bros I’d get once I was, like, CEO of a multibillion dollar startup.

I guess the universe looked at me one day and said, “Why wait, bro?”

I got back to my dorm one night and these, like, gross boxers were sitting right on my floor. I remember I thought they were totally lame, because they had the Sriracha logo all over them. “Who wears those but nasty frat boys?” I thought to myself. Huhuhu, little did the old me know.

Anyway, these boxers were totally messing up the vibes of my dorm. I used to be such a neat freak, bro. A place for everything, and everything in its place. A smelly, used pair of boxers made my skin crawl. So, obvi, I went to pick them up with two of my slim little fingers and toss them in the trash. I figured it was some kind of gross prank on me.

Once I’d picked ‘em up, I could see exactly how dirty those boxers were. The legs were stiff with layers of musky sweat, the smell wafting off them strong enough to make my eyes water. There were a couple of grease stains on them, like some dude had eaten dinner in just his undies. The crotch was crusty, too. Someone, maybe multiple someones, had cum in these boxers.

I remember wondering why the thought got me hard.

Rather than taking the Sriracha boxers to the trash like I’d planned, I found myself giving them a second sniff, and then a third. Goddamn, they were fuckin’ gross, bro. I thought it was just my disgust making me smell them over and over again. Like I was trying to figure out exactly what had gotten on them.

Before long, I was palming my lil cock through my slacks, holding the boxers close to my face with my other hand. It was, like, a total head rush every time I took another sniff. Like I could feel my brain blanking out as I took more and more of the musky stench into me. Not that I knew that was what was actually happening, huhuhu.

When I stripped off my pants and undies to jerk off better, I suddenly had an awesome idea. I could, like, wear the Sriracha boxers and jerk off in them. My brain was already at least halfway transformed by then, lol. I was definitely no nerd at that point. The idea of wearing another guy’s musky boxers got me so fuckin’ turned on.

I pulled the boxers up my skinny brown legs. They hung on my hip bones, barely able to stay on. I laid down on my bed and felt my rock hard cock through the crusty fabric. It was like I could feel the cum and sweat of everyone who’d ever worn that underwear seeping into my skin as I massaged drops of precum out of my balls.

As I writhed on my sheets, lost in pleasure, my skinny Indian body started to change. It started with my feet, which cracked and stretched as they grew big and thick. They started to sweat, a funky foot musk joining the renewed stench of the Sriracha boxers, which were getting super wet with my precum. It was like the brown leached out of my skin with my musky foot sweat, too, as my big feet got all pale.

The change continued up my bare calves, which got super hairy as the muscles flexed and swelled. My legs lengthened as huge quads and hammies swelled up under my whitening skin. God, said my musk-addled mind, I love leg day. I started to flex and wiggle my bulky thighs, feeling the muscles stimulate my growing prostate.

I let out a high pitched little bitchboy moan as my ass inflated with juicy muscle and fat, but I knew that my voice wouldn’t sound like that for much longer. I’d totally embraced the transformation as my cock and balls filled out the pouch of the boxers. They were no longer, like, loose and shit. My fat ass and big bro cock were stretching the sweaty fabric to its limits, bro!

My chest followed, going from slim to bulky so fast that all the buttons on my nerd shirt hit the ceiling. Sweat instantly started to roll off my furry new pecs, and I ran my soft little hand up and down my thick, firm belly and flexed the solid abs I knew were underneath the fat. More than the boxers and the smell, my body was starting to turn me on, bruh. I was becoming, like, a total frat god.

The curly brown hair that grew in my armpits smelled sooooo good as sweat started to drip off it. I totally buried my little nerd face in my own pits and licked up my sweat as I watched my arms bulk up and get all pale and hairy. It was so hot flexing my bicep and watching it bulk up before my eyes, dude! I felt my hand grow as I tugged my big jock cock in the Sriracha boxers, thickening up and getting some hard-earned weightlifting calluses.

The last thing to change was my head. My moans got deeper, slower, and totally dumb-sounding as my neck thickened. A thick brown beard grew on my cheeks, framing my cheesy dumb smile perfectly. My nose cracked and grew into a big ol’ sniffer, even more sensitive than my old nose so I can really take in my bros’ musk.

My old black buzzcut grew out into a curly brown mane, totally greasy from all the sweat I soak it with when I work out, huhuhu. As my forehead got all pale and my eyes turned blue, I felt my cock go over the edge, and I came right into the Sriracha boxers. Pump after pump of musky frat bro cream, taking my old self with it to impregnate the boxers with even more fratty juice. As the room filled with the smell of my thick load, I totally passed out.

The next morning, I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was in a big bed with musky, sweat-stained sheets, a bunch of stale, unwashed gym gear all over the floor. I was still wearing the Sriracha boxers, my cum caked into the stain along with all the other bros’, along with a cap that I turned backwards as I sat up. I pulled on a tank without too many sweat stains on it and went to explore.

Turned out I lived at the Mu Upsilon Sigma frat house now. The whole place smelled like a sweaty armpit, and it was full of musky bros who were more than happy for me to get all up in their smelly pits and cracks.

I wore the Sriracha boxers for a couple days. Honestly, I dunno how long, I usually only change my boxers like once a month, huhuhu. I worked out, jerked off, got drunk, got fucked, and jerked off some more, all while wearing those boxers. Then I left ‘em in some nerd’s dorm as a prank, huhu.

It was so hot to watch the lil Japanese guy get as zonked out on the musky boxers like I had, bro. We hid in his closet and watched while he jerked off and turned into another musky white frat boy like us, then carried him to the MYS house once he passed out.

It’s been a couple weeks since then, and MYS membership has only grown, bruh! Each bro wears the Sriracha boxers for a few days, adds his personal touch to the, like, seasoning, and then we pass ‘em on to another nerd and induct him into frat life! Maybe some night soon, you’ll see these bad boys in your dorm, huhuhu. Life's perfect in the frat, bro!

[poppy-metal]

poppy can you pretty please talk abt what you think our boys smell like in the a/b/o verse. i’m so curious abt how scenting would work for them and how that adds another layer of communication like u can all lie verbally abt ur wants and desires but ur scents dont lie. lol

okay okay i think patricks smell is intense probably something not spicy but.... it hits you immediately. im thinking like firewood almost, musky but not gross. earthy scents.... cedar and almost minty, too. it smells like being outside - like the woods - summer and warmth. he's a fucking menace when it comes to scenting because he does it casually as well as intimately - like sir. but when you're his partner its even more intense. quite literally cant keep his hands off you. the strongest his scent is, is (his big fat balls) his throat. makes you wanna nose there.

art is softer - i have a hc that he uses suppressants to mute his scent because he doesn't want to have an affect on anyone against both of your will - but his true scent is very comforting.... like freshly clean linen - a headier version of the cinnamon gum he's always chewing. baked bread. smells the strongest at his chest - when he hugs you and it wraps around you it puts you under a spell almost its so comforting. scenting usually happens when its just the two of you alone, and he's very touchy - but when hes feeling territorial he can't help himself sometimes.

tashi...... like coffee and cocoa beans. I feel this strongly. rich and deep and you can smell her as soon as she comes into a room and she likes it that way. she likes to pair alot of her perfume with her natural scent, stuff like dark plum and honey and vanilla. its feminine but not overtly sweet. it makes your mouth water. she kinda hates scenting - or she did before she meets her match, than she's reluctantly a fool for it. she likes when a cute little omega snuggles up to her - she smells the best around her shoulders - like art, she prefers scenting you in private.

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Compiling some Peppino-centric hcs i have bc i would like to have something to look back on as a point of reference 😌 (this is so long. SO fucking long. Im sorry)

- starting w the basics: hes a short king; 5’2 (157cm). Hes like late 40s-early 50s to me. Hes got brown eyes i never draw bc i like drawing him w dots lol. Hes particular about his appearance and grooms very consistently. Has literally no issues w balding (exposed to balding bears in his youth; thinks they are hot now 😌) and it helps that he can literally cave someones skull in if they speak ill of him. He does have a couple of comfy hats incase his hair decides to be unruly in bad weather.

- very bulky build; think of olympic strongmen/ highland games but short. Visibly muscular arms and broad shoulder, fat chest and stomach, smoother legs (fat layered over muscle; v thick thighs and calves). Hes got surgery scars on his lower back from a bullet wound (only entry/no exit point). Debated giving him a scar around his sternum from heart surgery or some other crazy injury he had but im not sure yet; the bullet extraction scar is definitely staying tho.

-does NOT work out; he used to wrestle in his late teens/early 20s but otherwise he was (still is) a man who did lots of physical labor around his childhood home and grandparents shop. Continued the cycle when he got his own home and his own restaurant; cheaper to do his own (extensive) repairs than call for specialists/contractors when u are Fucking Poor.

- he DOES exercise; he is fond of jogging. He does this alot postgame, usually in the early mornings before he opens, and at the beach on his days off. He had it drilled in v early in his life that he Needs to stay active, so he will roll out of bed and do this almost daily. On his days off he will have random people come and join him; usually pepperman or noisette. Its too tedious/boring of a task for gus and noise, and vigi is out cold until sunrise at minimum.

- he owns a HOUSE; he does not rent an apartment. This is bc i think it would be reasonable to assume that anyone who OWNS a restaurant was at some point, well off enough to own a house instead of renting. And i like the idea of him using this house as collateral; if the shop goes under, so does his home (more stress for him…). (Ive seen other people treat his shop like a duplex ie shop on the lobby level and an apartment/living space on the second floor. This is ALSO v good and coincides w my want to have his home tied to his restaurant)

- the house is small; two bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, and a basement (where the 1/2 bath is located). BIG kitchen, small livingroom. It is surprisingly well furnished bc of his family donating things to him when he bought the house in his 30s. Lots of older wood based furniture. Hes not grossly messy (like food, bugs, etc) but he is disorganized beyond belief. Lives an ‘organized mess’ lifestyle bc of his high stress. Also extremely apathetic to his living conditions until postgame when his restaurant starts to take in profits again; less stress -> more positive time at home -> aware of the clutter as he spends more time at home.

- drives a beat up lookin car to and from work. Its his BABY; his ol reliable. He has to do lots of work to keep her intact and functioning. Eventually gets a newer car with his profits, but its rlly to help ease the strain on her so that he can take her out for drives occasionally.

-eldest of like 6 siblings; will not try to name them all just know that hes the only boy. Eldest daughter is only a year younger than him. Good relationship w all of them and his immediate family. Very matriarchal immediate family. Only a handful of uncles, his dad, and his grandpappy. Stubbornly cut off contact w everyone after the horrors (war) and refused to accept help w his failing restaurant (prideful). Eventually his (eldest) sister reaches out and he makes amends one at a time. (Gets an earful from his momma)

- works LONG hours. Awake by 4am, in noisettes cafe by 5am, in the shop by 6am. Preps and calls until opening at 9am. Closes at 9pm. Closes up FOR REAL at 10pm. Rinse n repeat. As the shop does better financially, he starts opening later and closing earlier (at the insistence of Gus). He still does his walks and his morning routine, just a little later, and he has enough time at home in the evening to cook for himself.

- on the topic of cooking, he is a good chef all around; pizza is just easier to market and consistently do Correct. Likes food alot. So much…..he isnt picky but he does go 😬 when eating something. Bad. And it happens Often.

- stress baked often. He felt bad about throwing out his food afterwards so he would give it away to his neighbors. No longer stress bakes but he will cook out of boredom which is not as bad but still not the best 😭 luckily he has so many freeloaders that will eat anything he makes (gus and noise)

- this is his second shop; the first one was in a larger city (think similar to pig city). Closed down due to insufficient payments, but reopened on the outskirts of the city (close to the forest) after putting up his house as collateral.

-first shop is where he first meets pizzahead. Hes offered a generous sum of cash to sell the business (which would then be converted into a ph brand shop). Obv declined. Later offered a position in pizzaheads business instead; nearly killed the man when scaring him out of his shop.

- Peppino is NOT some aggressive out of control beast (despite what pizzahead believes). He is vaguely neurotic and it is exacerbated by extreme stress and bouts of anxiety. So funny how removing the extreme stress and sources of anxiety makes him more Normal. (Somewhat encouraged by an official image i saw after i made this hc of peppinos attitude outside and inside the tower. He is relatively apathetic and inside the tower he is borderline manic. More hcs about that too)

- he is relatively fun to be with otherwise. He has some extremely dry humor. Hes incredibly sarcastic. He LIKES customer service…otherwise this would be impossible for him to endure. It helps that he Owns a shop, instead of only being a worker; he can yell at people who are rude and annoying to him and he knows (at least postgame) that he has loyal regulars.

- he is a bit of an asshole; he make snide remarks he shouldnt and hes been in his own fair share of fights bc of it. Has mellowed out drastically as he got a better grip on his emotions postgame. Only the most tolerant could really deal w him prior to postgame (gus) in part due to his anger (response to exacerbated neurosis and ptsd)

- also autistic. Extra stress bc of this. Easily overstimulated and the response to this is anger. Completely undiagnosed lmao but hes like late 40s; he just learned how to deal with it.

-common stress responses: bites on anything, usually his hand (Tried stopping this bc people would TOUCH him if he did that in front of others and that just made shit worse). Grinds his teeth. Jaw clenching. Making A Fist So Tight You Accidentally Cut Urself. Flappy hands, usually w hands balled up into a fist (specifically eyes closed; jaw clenched; head ducked, flappy hands over his ducked head). It looks ‘worse’ than biting but at least the excessive movement deters people from touching him.

- on a more positive note; knows quite a bit of magic tricks. Sleight of hand stuff is his forte. It is good for the anxiety and it keeps his hands busy. He is will consistently say that he is not good w kids but he loves entertaining them; they say the funniest shit and he likes being a bad influence on them 😈. Also teaching them tricks and letting them see behind the curtain is so fun for him; like they are so excited about silly tricks and it makes him feel a little cool….

- he is the kind of person whos like (dad voice) ‘not gettin a damn cat in my house’ and then has blackmail of him passed the fuck out with a cat on his stomach. He feeds the local strays by his shop and he cant help but feed the strays that end up by his house. He doesnt feel confident enough to take care of another animal when its so hard for him to remember to take care of himself so for now he just feeds them. But maybe soon he will take them inside…he also baby talks cats but if u caught him doing that he would kill u i think. (Pov u are the noise)

- silly hc that he has a real last name but he keeps it as spaghetti bc its funny to fuck around w people who ask him. No i dont know what his last name would be but i think it would be funny to have him ‘change’ it for branding and have people believe it. Also i think its funny to think of peppino saying this to ph somehow and he completely runs with it as gospel. Like ‘granny did u KNOW his last name is fucking spaghetti??’

- wrt young peppino, i say that w him being 20-23 in mind. Worked in his grandparents shop during this time. Worked as a line cook for some other restaurants as well (and saved up money to buy his own home while he lived w his parents and sisters). He was generally a sweetheart, just a bit odd (the Autsim and Anxiety), but that was (and still is) his charm point lol

- (SUGGESTIVE) cannot stop thinking of him as a little otter that hung out w older bears in the leather scene. He prob had his best years w them before he had to focus on other shit. He still keeps in contact w some of the peeps that were around his age postgame, and they meet up sometimes to hang along w vigilante. Now that hes older it is a bit surreal to now be the bear he used to look up to in his younger years. But its a bit flattering. Noise and Pepperman are younger than him and they both regard him w the same kind of wonder he used to give older bears. He thinks its cute lol (pepperman bc thats his muse and he sees his body type as PEAK human form, and noise bc i hc him as a bit sheltered despite the fame)

- (STILL SUGGESTIVE BUT THATS IT I SWEAR) adjacent to this; its weird for him to come back to this side of him bc hes been living in survival mode for over a decade. Got his house in his early 30s -> WAR -> comes back traumatized -> leaves family to cope -> dumps money into a restaurant to cope w leaving family. So he kinda missed it alot. Its fun to explore it w gus heehee and sometimes noise when he behaves.

-other things i wanted to mention but didnt know where to fit it. Peppino is a decent artist; he drew the logo for his shop and in general he is good at caricatures (another thing he can do to entertain a crowd; helps w anxiety to know how to not be awkward).

- Peppino is a bit of a mechanic (aka he learned bc he was broke and didnt want to call them for minor problems). Hes not a tinkerer but he likes the joy of creating sm and will make little. Creations. every once in a while. One of these creations is Peshino! He is a wooden windup toy made as a prototype for a more mechanical, mass produced version. He was intended to be sold as a cute little toy to help cement the branding for Peppinos shop but he never got the time or money for it, so peshino is collecting a bit of dust in his basement. Postgame, he takes peshino out and cleans him up; he feels a bit guilty about him….and the Big Peshino found in the tower plays music in Peppinos shop :) He also takes the time to clean him up and keep him functional.

Okay i think thats all i got for now byebye

[rain-world-headcanons]

my physical appearance scug headcanons !

spearmaster - mildly slimey. sparse coarse short fur. petting with the fur direction feels smooth and a little cold. against feels like being mildly stabbed. very thin and light body. slightly bigger than the average slugcat. doesnt have lower jaw or digestive system. has whiskers. weird whiskers so i felt the need to mention em here.

artificer - long coarse fur. has whats essentially a mane. furs very thick and explosion resistant. massive compared to other slugcats. compared to iterator puppets aswell lol. scars should be covered by fur by now but arti keeps exploding and getting into fights so they arent.

hunter - sharp teef. short fur, a bit moist but not overly so. damp. a bit drier than surv+monk. scars are actually rather fresh. normal size.

gourmand - big. large. big ol slugcat. dry. short fur. very warm. lots of muscle under the fat and fluff. lots of scars under the fur. gourmand actually has slugcat healthcare

survivor - normal slugcat size. short wet fur. fur gets subtly darker on ears, paws, tail, and nose. like a point cat. not by much but its there.

monk - bit small. wet but with short fur. has speckles of white across nose and tail (:

rivulet - small. itty bitty. chubby. big ol eyes. no fur. just slime. wet beast. creature. feels like a frog. cold and slimey and wet. thick skin. has darker blue stripes but theyre kind of hard to see especially when moving at top speed. big ol paws.

saint - 2 layers of fur, a thicker yellowish one and a fluffier greener one. thick sticky saliva to keep tongue from freezing and to stick to things. dull teeth. average slugcat size but youd never know under the fur. big ol paws like a lynx

-

[kittlesandbugs]

Title: Breathe dammit Pairing: Chargestep Warnings: RETRIBUTION SPOILERS.  Big fat ones for the end of the book.  Also near-death experience, but not for the POV character (Ortega).  Chucking the whole thing under a cut to be polite for people who haven’t gotten there yet lol. Word Count: 647

Prompt:  @sidestepping prompted: write the car crash or the hospital waiting from the point of view of Ortega, or, alternatively, any of the main cast dealing with your Sidestep being injured.

"She's not breathing!"

The paramedic's words freeze your blood in its veins, sick dread heavy like lead in your gut. 

no

no no no not again, not ever again, you just got her back, you can't—

Feet moving before you realize, shove the medic out of the way, only halfway done cutting through her layers. You fall to your knees beside her, finish the job. 

What is that orange…? Spiraling out of central stripes in a pattern you can't recognize. 

Not important now. 

Hand over her heart, flesh still warm but no movement, no flutter that you've wanted to feel since she came back into your life. 

no 

no 

nononono

"Sir you have to—" 

"I'm not losing her again!" You shrug the hands away, normal strength of a person no match for your modded muscles. 

Remember the training, elbows locked, thirty compressions. Eyes locked on her too-slack face for any sign of life. Tilt the chin, mouth to mouth, breathe the life back into her. 

Once. 

Twice. 

nothing

"C'mon, Ry…" 

Compressions again, harder this time. Like you can force your life into her. Should have been yours taken so many times, this is why, this is why, to bring her back again, rip her out of death's grasp again. 

"Breathe, dammit…" 

One breath. 

Two. 

She gasps, sucks air like a fish, and relief makes it easy for the paramedics to shove in again. They strap her to the gurney, mask to her face, compression bag assisting her breathing, lift her up, wheel her to the ambulance. 

You stumble to your feet, follow after them, push your way in after them before they can shut you out and leave. 

"Sir, you can't—" 

"I'm a Ranger. Charge."

Flash the badge from your pocket. Been a long time since you've had to pull that card but it shuts them up and you settle in beside her. 

You wipe sweat slick hands on your ruined sweats and gesture to the mask bag. 

"I'm sorry." You're not, but it eases the glares. "She's my…" Can't say girlfriend, she'd yell at you, and it'd be so welcome you almost do. "May I…?" 

He hands the bag over after a brief glance to the other. You follow their instructions carefully, so carefully, eyes glued to every rise and fall of her chest. 

She'll pull through right? 

She's so stubborn. 

Too stubborn to die, right? Always too stubborn. Just needed a little help to get her feet back under her. 

The ride is over too quickly and not fast enough and they take it back from you before you can move, wheel her out, you barely catch the words "respiratory failure" and "multiple complex fractures". You limp after them, your own injuries starting to catch up with you, but it doesn't matter.

All that matters is she pulls through and you have to be sure. 

You're arguing with a nurse in the hall outside the operating theater when a heavy hand falls on your shoulder. 

"Ricardo. You need to stop."

Wei. You almost wilt as you turn.

"But she almost— I can't—" 

"She's in the best hands this city has to offer. I'll stand watch now."  Hard eyes soften as he pushes you a few steps from the door, towards another nurse waiting to take you for examination. "I won't let anyone— won't let anything happen to her. I promise."

Anyone?  Hollow Ground? But he doesn't believe in… What is he… ? 

The nurse almost manhandles you into the wheelchair, interrupting your thoughts, and you spin to call back, "You'll let me know when she's out of surgery, right?" 

"Yes. Now get yourself taken care of." 

"You'll let me know if anything… if she gets…" The words die in your throat, you can't even bear to think about that now. 

"I will. You need to rest."

"I… okay."

The nurse wheels you away and you suddenly remember.

What were those orange markings? 

[finsterhund]

For whatever reason I've been hyperfocusing on Skinamarink (2022) even though I think it is an immensely flawed movie. (I guess it's like a Seventh Brother scenario. Where I don't think it's peak cinema but I still find something very specific that I can relate to and thus become obsessed and incorporate it into my existence) Maybe it will continue to grow on me. Who knows.

I summarized it in the friend group as “Childhood neglect simulator” and I do stand by that. Analogue horror childhood neglect liminal space simulator is perhaps more apt.

But this film really embodies just what it’s like to be a terrified toddler left to fend for himself in the dark all alone.

Spoilers under this

Unfortunately I have to be honest and confess that the movie lacks substance and the style it oozes doesn't make up for that. It's slow, drags, and is boring at times. So much of the movie is "stare into a dark void and nothing happens." There's build up, and then there's “ASMR spooky liminal house tour” and this sadly felt like more of the latter. So much of what makes the movie standing out to me is because I am nyctophobic and never actually grew out of the primal toddler-aged fear the film invokes. Especially as there are periods of worse mental health where I regress all the way down to that age. The joke my friends made about it putting me to sleep if I ate an edible and watched it is not accurate. Because it simulates nyctophobia remarkable well. So I couldn't be bored out of focusing lol.

I was immediately offput by how much excessive cheesy after effects film grain filter was dumped onto the footage in post. I joke a lot about how it wants to be 70s vibe film but then it is a 16x9 resolution which took me out of the vibe pretty hard. And due to much of the movie "holding on this shot of practically nothing" I was especially distracted by modern aspects of the house such as the extremely modern 2010s wall outlet cover and the dollar tree night light (which REALLY distracted me the first viewing. I could not stop thinking about that motherfucker was not from 1995.)

The movie also did not have a folley artist and presumably the creator Kyle Ball did all the mixing himself and used free sound effects from a public domain stock archive himself. Which unfortunately really shows. Folley is an art and strange sound effect choices took me out of it on several occasions. It also feels like the background noise wasn't layered over top of specific sounds properly at certain points.

Another issue was inconsistent subtitling. There are times when there are then and times that you think really should be like those and have them but they don't.

I understand this film unlike his YouTube videos were crowdfunded and he had other people on the team so it's somewhat disappointing there isn't a noticable increase of production value(?) Just mostly an increase in length. Other than additional actors there really isn’t much that sets it above his short film “Heck” which due to its shorter length I felt was more engaging. (Although the cancer thing was very :/ you are on thin ice mr ball)

What substance is there though is very good. You can tell the creator started out with short form liminal space nostalgia "analogue horror" YouTube shorts and ASMR aesthetic soundscapes. This would work so much better if it was like his shorter videos and trimmed the fat. Otherwise it needs to have a cast that the audience can actually see and observe the interactions of more. There's gotta be a balance, again, style and substance.

The fact that it’s like watching a childhood nightmare is incredible, and if that’s what Kyle set out to achieve then he for sure succeeded. But a story this is unfortunately not.

I feel if there was media like this that had more emphasis on how the characters experienced their predicament it would do wonders. It could easily be peak experimental HoDcore.

The entity itself was so criminally underutilized. I think there's maybe a minute of combined dialogue when you add up its dialogue with that of the human cast.

Which is a shame because I feel once again, if we had more of character interaction it would be more engaging.

The entity toys with the little boy Kevin and I didn't realize until I watched it a second time and read someone else talk about the movie that one of the later scenes shows it killing him and immediately bringing him back to do it again presumably for its own amusement. (Extremely relatable character right here. I am Kevin 🤣)

This was shown by blood splattering and then being reversed like a tape being rewound. The importance of the tape metaphor became more apparent on the second watch. The first watch I felt the film relied too heavily on showing the public domain cartoons. It wasn't until much later the entity is shown YouTube pooping them and it actually becomes relevant and the comparison is more obvious.

There were instances where I feel things were a bit too vague in a "what does it mean" way. I'm torn because I don't think every little thing should be explicitly explained, but I think there should be some context, you know? (Why the entity moved things, what it did to the mom, etc.)

A big reason why I can overlook how empty and slow it is is because this experience is so quintessential as a toddler in Canada during the end of the analogue age. I feel that the toys and the public domain cartoons featured were things that never were distinctly important childhood items of significance but they were things I recognized for sure. So it was this uncanniness of it being the stuff you had and remembered but never formed lasting long love/influence from. It isn’t your favourite film on VHS, it’s that compilation you’d watch sometimes ,etc.

The phone call the dad makes is so viscerally similar to the way my mom would talk to family members in phone calls about me. The uncanny warped by darkness face of the parent/entity at the end is SO MUCH like how that shit felt to me. And that got me thinking about additional aspects of that experience that if part of the movie would have amplified it further.

The biggest thing I think would really expand the concept is shadow play. Would require more special effects or very intentional practical effects but having the shadows tangibly move/behave abnormally would have been spectacular. That is one of the most defining horrors of my childhood. How shadows seemed to shift and move. A serious source of terror growing up was how the baseboard heater made the curtains above it move, and the shadows projected by the nightlight of those curtains would twist and roll and coil. During sleep paralysis I fucking grew to hate those curtains so much.

I personally care very little for edgy "child was in a coma the whole time" theories or "child's paranormal experiences were just a metaphor" theories so I'm not even going to bother getting into those. You know we're team "Not A Dream" on the Finsterhund channel. As far as I'm concerned the entity was literal.

There were a few jumpscares but they were just that really. The first one, where the older kid is looking at something freaky on the ceiling and the younger accidentally sneaks up behind felt natural, but the reveal that the entity took their face was unintentionally humorous. I literally said "Slenderman sister jumpscare" out loud and had to pause it because I was laughing so hard I got the mood ruined.

The fisher price jumpscare though I really liked. The actual face changing wasn't too spoopy but oh my god when the camera shows what it looks like with the flashlight off, with the very faint glint of the outer circles of the whites of its eyes. That freaked me out so bad. That is the embodiment of nyctophobia making you see demons out of regular items. I don't even know if that was an edit or if those phones just normally look like that under very low light but man.

Every time someone gives me shit about leaving the lights on I will pin them down and force them to look at this until they understand.

I have a personal anecdote in that when I was a toddler I was dumped off at somebody’s house. Not someone I know of and not a family member. And they had a fucking mask on the wall and they made me sleep in that room in the dark with that stupid fucking mask. And I  fucking hated that goddamn mask. Fuck it. Fuck those people andtheir creepy fucking mask.

Some of the more tangible things the entity does that made the story more engaging were sadly also detrimental towards the mood. The toilet disappearing with a silly noise being one such instance. Removing the doors and windows and removing/incapacitating the parents I can understand. But why did the entity remove the toilet? There's even a scene where the children slide buckets into the bathroom to show the aftermath of this porcelain pilfering. Was it just for the entity to dehumanize and further torment them? I feel there were better ways to demonstrate that without silly disappearing toilet.

Because of my prominent nyctophobia I have no clue how much I can credit the movie for in it's "camera pointed at a dark void" shots and how much was just my brain filling in holes. For certain scenes I did take screenshots and blast up the contrast to see if there were literal things in the darkness pixels but every time there wasn't except for the face at the end. It was just my brain, not intentional edits in the film. I feel if there were intentional nyctophobia hallucinations they outright edited into the voids that effect would be brought to people who aren't me lol.

Honestly the biggest thing this movie instilled in me was wanting to make my own with more meat and potatoes hahaha. I'm thinking actually using a camcorder instead of editing gimmicky filters in post, including practical effect tangible interactions between the cast and the entity, etc.

I know I'm acting really harsh but I do feel like it had an exuberant amount of potential to cater directly to me but then it just sorta fizzled out if that makes sense. And I do think that so much of it was excellent that it makes what didn’t work hurt more. Unfortunately I don't think setting the mood is the only thing you need to do to create engaging horror you need a reason to care about the ones experiencing it.

Like I said, it had so much style. But style alone doesn't do it for me. Mainly because my brain already does that on its own. So I wish Skinamarink had more to it in regards towards the stuff that I can't just go and do to myself when the power goes out.

In regards to watching it with edible vs without, the edible made my nyctophobic perception of the dark void shots worse. Which is something important I should be aware of in the future for sure as this likely would have real world implications as well.

Again, I want to stress that I am glad to have seen this movie and I feel my disappointment is because I'm aware of just how far beyond this movie could have been. Or something.

Lastly, a nitpick. The song that the movie derives it's name is in the public domain. Most people know it from The Elephant Show, but the song itself was made in 1910. I really feel like it could have been incorporated somehow. And on the subject of music I feel there could have been if not outright musical scoring, some more prominent ambiance(?) What's that called where you basically write ambiance as if it's music. There's a HoD fan album that does this.

IDK call me a normie for wishing we saw more of Kevin as a character but yeah. I do wish that.

Also a running joke I had in both watchings was calling the entity “asthmatic master of darkness” because of its voice. I want to specify this.

Anyways, disassociating Cayden simulator looking pretty good.

[bitchin-witchin]

Was recently reminded of a fatuichi wip I had from may that's like underground crime syndicate fatui modern au or something and childe is a dancer.

The tsaritsa owns a club where they launder shit and the fatui can hang, maybe the dancers there are under her protection. Childe was taken in as an agent and moved up the ranks, but before he became a harbinger he saw the good money the dancers were making and wanted to take a shot at it, since he got into the criminal scene to get money for his family anyways. Then it turns out to be kind of fun and the fatui are always respectful bc the tsaritsa has them on a short leash and disrespect isn't tolerated. He enjoys the feeling, a different thrill from battle, but similar.

The man of the night is a gunner I named dalimil. It is his birthday! And he is at the club with his homies. He thinks they're just drinking and chillin, as most fatui in the club do tbh, but his friends (a vanguard and some sort of smalll skirmisher) get him a lap dance and it is with... childe!! WHO MAYBE IS ALSO THEIR BOSS? I haven't decided.

Now Dalimil is a fat guy. He's a gunner. And he's p chill but we all have insecurities ykno. So he's not super confident. Hes kind of body shy. But childe is like very comfortable in his body (it's a weapon, a tool that he has trained hard to be at its best so ofc he is proud. It's not even a like "I'm so attractive" it's literally just from how useful he's made himself) and he's not perfect either, like yes every playable character in genshin is pretty but flaws are fun so idk attach whatever flaws u want to childe. I like to give him discolored teeth and maybe they're crooked, has a gap. Basically I give him my teeth LOL. Some other stuff. Scars, etc.

So anyways they're in their private room and childe starts dancing for him, climbs onto his lap and he really has to like CLIMB bc this man is tall and one of his thighs is like the width of childe (pretending that the big skirmisher builds are not augmented and they're just actually that big. Some eremite enemies are v big and they don't have any visual hints of being augmented so let's say the body variety in teyvat just has an insane range LOL). Dalimil is very flustered by how small he makes the harbinger look on his leg man's is discovering his size kink. Even sitting on him childe still has to look up. And childe is tall! He's not tiny. But dalimil is also very conscious of his stomach touching the harbinger bc it comes out pretty far and he's like ahh man ykno like my friends put me up to this, does childe even like this, he's probably just acting, etc.

Childe plays eith the buttons of his top and sees dalimil kind of clamming up so he's like "wanna get comfortable and lose some layers?" And dalimil is like ahh hmm noo it's okay... and childe is like catching on now so he's like "you don't have to hide from me. I want to see. I'm here to make you feel good." But he doesn't like pressure him ykno if dalimil said no he'd be like sure its fine, but if he's open to talking about it then maybe they can work something out.

So maybe childe just opens his shirt slowly. Dancing and stuff while he does it, rubbing his hands over dalimils chest and through his hair. And honestly?? Now dalimil is getting worked up feeling childes body rub over his stomach sometimes while he dances like fucckkkk, the skinnier guys don't get that privilege you know? Ethically bypassing no touching rule. LOL. Anyways they both end up super into it and dalimil comes out of that room more assured that he is desirable now that he's gotten some proof :3.

Ofc u don't need proof to feel desirable but if you're insecure about it it is definitely helpful when it feels positive for you. Also yes, not every fat person is insecure, and not every fat character has to be written that way, but it's what I want for my fic as a fat person myself.

I also I have a playlist for this fic that I occasionally still add song to

If u don't have Spotify and want to listen let me know in replies or reblogs or tags and I will post a other source.

[vyeoh]

what is the process you use to make your drawings? and what base do you use for the people, I’m trying to get better at drawing people myself, and I absolute love your style! 😊

Hi! I usually

1) sketch out my compositions

2) do a clean sketch/dirty line work layer

3) do my base colors

4) do a basic shading pass with a multiply layer and a hardvpainting brush

5) do a basic highlight pass with a 30% add layer and a hard inking brush

6) do more multiply and add layers from there until I'm happy

7) merge, and fix any final things by color dropping and painting directly onto the layer

Here's a speedpaint of my process I posted before, its a bit different from the process described, but honestly I'm always playing around with different styles and processes so I mess around with these steps a lot lol

(Similarly i can never tell people what brushes i use because I usually just download a bunch of cool looking free ones and then choose a random one)

As for drawing people, I also can't really give many shortcuts; I'm a biology student who learned art under someone who was classically trained, so I basically did studies until I learned the bones and muscles, and now for better or for worse, I don't really use references. I'd say what really changed the way I thought about drawing people was learning all the joints in the body, and how they functioned.

Like, knowing the range of motion of your body is super helpful, and even if your proportions are weird you won't end up with janky posing.

It's also helpful, when drawing muscles, to think of your body as a piston system. You have an antagonist muscle that pairs with each muscle that essentially reverses it's motion (think: biceps and triceps) and thus whenever you draw a person flexing an arm, for example, keep in mind that if you draw that buff bicep, you gotta also leave room for the triceps. Also remember that fat exists on any healthy person, so limbs should really never be sticks

Last drawing tip for people: learn how to shade things, like just generally. Things are a mix of hard and soft shadows, and don't be scared to really push your values to be very light and dark. I've been told not to shade with black but honestly, the way I layer multiply layers just means I do it anyways and as a not-professional, I like how it looks

tldr: unfortunately, I don't know any tricks or shortcuts, I only can suggest to learn the rules before you break em. Sometimes classical art training techniques are good

[pishyy]

intro post ✿✿✿

hello!! it's nice to meet you! welcome to my little corner of the internet!

im a college student revisiting her middle- and high-school tumblr days <3 i used to be suuuuper active on here but deactivated my acct a few years ago, and i decided it was time to come back home :)

below the cut are some rules / introductory stuff that i ask you read before following <3 have a wonderful day!!

first things first, some rules (please read!) :

i am an adult (albeit a very young one). i will post adult things. i'm not going to say this a strictly 18+ blog (aside from nsfw things, which i will tag #mdni or #minors dni), but i'd kindly request you not interact w me if you're under the age of 16. its for both of us, pookie.

i roll w sweeties and lovers only !!! my blog is a space for positivity and love and light and absolutely nothing else !!! if you're being a fart i reserve the right to block u like THAT 🤌 (that's me snapping)

i am bound to have my blind spots as a white, (mostly) able-bodied, cisgendered, middle-class person. i 100% acknowledge that, and am doing my best to reduce and eliminate those. i encourage all people i interact with to do the same, including online. if i hear whispers of any of my followers exhibiting bigoted, prejudiced, predatory, or just generally uncool behavior, you will be 🥾 BOOTED immediately

i'm in a very happy, committed, long-term relationship with my partner of multiple years. in other words, *pearl voice* IM MARRIED!!! don't be creepy.

i will do my best to tag tws and cws, but if there's anything i miss, please let me know!! it has been a fat minute since i have ventured back onto this crazy little website and i'm a bit rusty.

about me <3 (read if u want lol) :

current obsessions: criminal minds (reliving my old phases, etc), bridgerton, rupaul's drag race, chappell roan, ethel cain, taylor swift when she's not ripping a hole in the ozone layer, hozier, mac miller, art, music, dorky stuff :)

i'm currently wrapping up my freshman year of college! i'm a studio art minor and elementary education major, if you couldn't tell from the everything about me. i'm super duper passionate about art and education and stuff, and will gush about it OFTEN

fav song at the moment: Tryptich - Samia

fav show at the moment: Bridgerton

fav emoji at the moment: 🦡 ! ITS A LIL BADGER AKSDHFASDFJS

ok that's it!! thanks for checking this out!! mwah love u pook

[the-stove-is-on-fire]

Introducing: The Lemon Demon Ghost  

[he/they/it pronouns]

I have never made a truly original Danny Phantom OC before so I’m pleased to present Lemon! Offspring of Undergrowth and Nocturn and utterly obsessed with lemons. He runs his own little lemon themed pop-up shop and all their powers are, you guessed it, lemon related. More Lemon Lore under the cut vvv

Lemon Ghost (LG) Facts:

He/they/it pronouns. Refer to them with the same pronouns you'd use to refer to a lemon. Mix it up or just stick with one, Lemon don’t give a flip about the semantics of human language. 

Most often called “LG” or simply “Lemon”. Has often been mistaken for a dragon or demon in the past so both “Lemon Demon” (lol) and “Lemon Dragon” are also acceptable. Really any combination that involves the word lemon works.

Reserved personality. Very chill 99% of the time but never insult lemons or LG's hat in his presence.

Offspring of Undergrowth and Nocturn. Yes, you read that right.

No one knows why his obsession turned out to be lemons but we don't question it. Perhaps LG is the origin of all lemons?

About 2000-ish years old.

Power level is juuuust below that of its parents.

Plant Core (Lemon Core lol)

Their yellow shape is an outer layer that acts like a cloak and LG refers to as it’s “Peel”

No one can ever remember what LG's voice sounds like despite them speaking regularly with both customers and friends.

If LG doesn't have their hat something is very wrong and everyone in the immediate vicinity needs to run.

LG proudly cultivates its own lemon trees but can also produce them itself… Lets just say there is a a very good reason for their yellow peel/cloak.

When "Life" gives you lemons it's actually LG giving you lemons.

He has excellent night vision but is very sensitive to light.

Enjoys tricking people into making that sour "just-bit-a-lemon" face.

Will steal lemons like a little lemon whore. Heck, he'll abduct the whole plant if they think it isn't being cared for properly.

Citrus siblings? …maybe.

Lemon Ghost Basic Visual Description:

Lemon Ghost is bright yellow with two large, lighter yellow spots, one on either side of their body at about the midpoint. He is a long, fat, rounded shape that tapers at each end of his body, with no discernable neck, mouth, hands or body sections. Just smooth like a slug. His head end is held high and he always wears a large yellow sunhat in top of his head. Two smooth white horns poke through the sunhat, curving outward just slightly and ending just a bit taller than the top of the hat. Lemon’s “skin” colour on its head is a dark, almost black colour that blends into the shadows under his hat and fades into the yellow of his body a bit further down. Its eyes glow yellowish white and seem round at a distance but are actually lemon shaped. Their eyes are close to the brim of their hat and seem to peer out of the darkness of his face. On the other end of his body, it tapers all the way down to a thin tail about half the length of their body. It has a small ridge of spikes on top of its tail that get larger near the end. Lemon likes to keep their tail flat on the ground and curled close to his body similar to how a cat does. His tail is the same dark colour as his head and also fades into yellow where is meet the main body. 

Lemon Ghost Visual Characteristics:

Tall. Like 9-10 feet tall on average. Lemon is smaller when in their shop with humans but their size is subjective and shifts often.

 Always has his hat. ALWAYS. 

Eyes glow and seem round at a distance but are actually lemon shaped up close a.k.a. you are too close.

Will always squint at sudden bright lights.  

Its yellow "body" is always rounded, blobish, and somewhat slug-like unless irritated, in which case it will swell up to double its original size (or more depending on the offence) and takes on a lemon shape.

Light yellow spot, one on each side. 

LG's yellow outer peel is a seamless ectoplasm construct that hides his real body, which looks a bit like a skinny featherless chicken with long thin humanoid arms, a spiky black tail and no chicken beak. Their main body is pale yellow like the inside of a lemon while all their extremities (except for its legs) are a dark, almost black colour.

Lemon has pale chicken feet under that yellow cloak. We’re not sure why.

Long, lanky arms that slide out of his peel and have subtle wood texture if you look close enough. Usually only has two arms at a time.

Arm/sleeve holes simply appear where they are needed. Peel parts like smoke or water to make way for his arms then the arm holes act like fabric as long as his arms are out. 

Has no fingernails, just round smooth ends on long thin fingers. Three fingers and one thumb on each hand. 

LG can, and will, grow fully formed lemons straight out of their skin, mainly on his back. Similar to Surinam toads but do not google that if you have trypophobia or are grossed out easily. LG without it’s peel is absolute nightmare fuel. 

Lemon Ghost Powers:

The 3 ghostly basics

Turning any food or object lemon themed

Giving Good Fortune/Luck lemons

Acid touch/spit/blasts

Yellow ectoplasm shields

Mild fate/luck/reality manipulation (Simply being around Lemon can increase your good fortune)

Punch (catch these hands)

Growing lemon plants anywhere regardless of environmental factors

Possess/control lemon trees to deliver a beat down

Turning any liquid to lemon juice (yes this includes bodily fluids, he's done it before and they won't hesitate to do it again.)

Can cause a person to vomit lemons

Growing lemons out of own skin

Lemon’s Pop-up Shop! Theme: Everything lemon related. It’s essentially a Lemon giftshop.

The interior of the shop is predominantly goldenrod yellow with subtle accents of green, light blue, dark brown and white. The architecture of the shop and variety of products available for sale usually change to match the location and time period but sometimes there are items for sale that are clearly out of their natural time. Always a little hole in the wall shop or street vendor, never a big store. The shop functions as a portable extension of LG's main lair. It will set up their shop in the realms, the mortal world, and even slip into different dimensions, everywhere is free real estate. Liminal space vibes. Items can be bought or traded for, currency is whatever the customer thinks the prices are supposed to be. LG will gladly trade a story or a soul of the damned for a slice of lemon meringue pie. What will it do with the damned soul? Probably just eat it and make more lemons. Damned soul lemons taste the best, extra zesty. Lemon Ghost has never owned a business license and never will. A true ally of the working class.

Some of the Items For Sale:

American Lemonade

European "Lemonade"

Hot honey lemon tea

Lemon cakes & tarts

Lemon meringue pie

Lemon flavoured candies and lollipops

Lemon bread

Lemon zest

International recipe booklet of recipes that use lemons

Lemon seeds

Regular whole lemons

Good Luck Lemons

Lemon themed dishware & cutlery

"when life gives you lemons, ____" shirts + merch

Lemon prints, key chains, &  pins

Lemon pillows

Lemon Ghost plushies

Lemon scented candles & oils

Lemon shaped/themed furniture

[murfeelee]

Critical Role INSP Pt1: C2

Here are 2 sets inspired by Critical Role’s second campaign: The Blooming Grove set for buy mode, and The Mighty Nein CAS set.

Blooming Grove INSP Set

This set Includes 15 items (NOTE: The glowing butterflies are NOT included, they’re at Sims3Marktplatz):

(2) Witcher 3 Cave Lights (Ceiling and Floor lights)

EA “Even Simpler” Stringed Light REDONE with Fullbright

EA GEN EP Unicorn with Fullbright (GEN EP REQUIRED)

TS4 to TS3 Plant Cluster 6 (HIGH POLY)

TS4 to TS3 Mortar and Pestle with Flowers

TS4 to TS3 Giant Magic Rose as Decor

TS4 to TS3 Flower as Floor Light

TS4 to TS3 Mushroom Tree (HIGH POLY) with and without Fullbright

ES Mushrooms as Recolorable Floor Light with and without Fullbright

TS4 to TS3 Hollow Tree Trunk as LLAMA (SUPERNATURAL EP REQUIRED)

Dragonfly Wing Pattern (found under Leather)

Mighty Nein INSP CAS Set

This set includes nine items:

TS4 to TS3 Mushroom Hat ACC

Mushroom Clusters as ACC on Head

Mushroom Clusters as ACC on Body (SUPERNATURAL EP Morphs)

Face Piercings Frankenmesh ACC

Deer Ears ACC 1

Deer Ears ACC 2 (with and without Earring)

Beo Flower Crown ACC for Kids

LLSIMS Skeletal Wings ACC RESCALED

Enjoy!

Download folders (package files only) : Mediafire | SimFileShare

Descriptions and preview pics under the cut:

For in-game pics of most of this stuff, just consult my sims 3 Critical Role tag. All of it is pretty self explanatory, but I wanted to explain one thing or two:

NOTE: The Blooming Grove set should’ve been called the Fullbright set or something. :P Any object with the Fullbright Shader will always glow, even when the lights are off. But it makes a really nice bloom effect, which is why I like Fullbright so dang much. Expect to see more of it going forward, lol.

EA “Even Simpler” Stringed Light REDONE with Fullbright 

I made 2 changes to EA’s Boardwalk venue light here: removing the wooden posts, and adding the fullbright shader.

Ears & Mushroom ACCs

The Ears ACCs have the glasses joint, NOT the hat_slider joint. This is so you can use Hat Slider compatible head accessories without effing with the ears. The ears will instead work with Glasses Sliders (OEM’s, Kijiko’s, and S-Club’s), which work similarly.

The Mushroom Hat and Head Clusters are hat slider compatible. I took the meshes/textures from this mushroom ring teleporter over at Simszoo, and slapped them all over my sim. TBH, I made the Head Clusters cuz I had a HARD time hiding the human ears--they just refused to shrink no matter what sliders I used (you can still kinda see them, jfc), so I said eff it; what’s one more accessory layered on this poor sim? XD

The Body Clusters accessory REQUIRE SUPERNATURAL cuz of the fit/fat morphs. [EDIT] I forgot to mention its found under Garters, so scroll down past the Socks and you’ll find them.

I forgot to take better pics of the dragonfly pattern and mortar & pestle , but if you squint you can see see them.

And that’s that!

Enjoy!

Download folders (package files only) : Mediafire | SimFileShare

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Hi!

I love your writing so very much but I have to go anon cause I’m shy hehe.

Would you be open to writing something about a superchub!Bucky and his doting bf Steve playing around with immobility kink?

Steve spending a day stuffing Bucky until he can’t stand up from the couch, getting everything for him so he never get up for the whole of it, taunting Bucky a little bit that if he keeps this up he’ll be too big to do anything for himself but eat (they’re both a little turned on by imagining it).

Idk if that is anything you might like, but I wanted to ask bc again I love your content!

Hey!

Thank you!! 🥰

And what else is the anon function on Tumblr for? Lol sometimes you gotta peak out between your fingers while sending someone your thots, I get it!

Would you be open to writing something about a superchub!Bucky and his doting bf Steve playing around with immobility kink?

One word: YES.

But also many more words than just one-

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink with fantasy and real immobility kink, stuffing, weight gain, etc.

I love love love the idea of Bucky sitting and being doted on the entire day, getting fuller and fuller, packed tighter and tighter, belly getting rounder and rounder under that thick layer of fat 😳

However, you know what this made me think of??

It made me a think of a feedism post I saw forever ago and can't track down rn but it amounted to: wouldn't it be great if for a weekend we pretend I'm immobile? You bring me food. You feed me. You fuck me and do all the work. It's fun. It's hot. It becomes an every weekend activity. And then a vacation activity, a stay-cation in our house except... after it keeps happening, our role played immobility, eventually, I really become immobile. It takes a while for us to notice though. Because weren't still playing. So lost in the game. Until- it's not a game anymore 😳

Like, imagine that happening with this huge Bucky and Steve-? 🥴🥴🥴

It starts years back when Bucky just first gets a little, erm, husky from bulking at the gym. For this bulk he ends up not going to workout as much as he planned to because he gets super busy with work or whatever, but in his mind, he’s still bulking, so he eats like he really was bulking until… oops… he's gained like 15, maybe 20 lbs? Getting some nice fluff on top of his muscles and, oh, Bucky really likes the way it feels.

The way it feels being bigger.

The way it feels when Steve feeds him.

And he really likes this new kink he’s found on the internet while trying to figure out just how weird he was for liking those two things. Turns out... he's not all that weird. Theres a community of people around it, actually.

He introduces the kink to Steve and they dive into it fast. Steve remains a gym rat as they both were when they began dating, but he comes home and feeds Bucky until Bucky feels like he can’t move. Steve teases Bucky that he’s eating everything Steve craves but can’t have (that’s not really what’s going on, but the role-play of it gets them both hot so… what does it matter, whether its true or not?). And eventually, Steve teases Bucky that if he keeps stuffing himself, he won’t be able to move when he used to go to the gym twice a day. What a change. Bucky likes the change. He likes the idea of being pinned to one spot by his changes. He likes the contrast between all his soft, round fat and Steve's cut, hard muscles. Steve's fitness versus Bucky's fatness.

Bucky begs Steve to stuff him until he can’t move, he's so desperate to feel more of those feelings he's having surrounding his (sort of) new kink. His new body.

He begs and begs and begs. 

And eats and eats and eats because Steve can’t resist his begging or his puppy dog eyes or his pouting. 

With all that intense feeding, both stuffing on junk food and the red meat (for Steve's muscle/gains) and boost/gainer shakes, Bucky piles on weight criminally easy until he really is on the cusp of immobility because it takes so much effort to move. He’s so heavy.

And it's all Bucky wants for Steve to keep him as his pet glutton, unable to move and doted on by his ridiculously fit, strong, and capable boyfriend. All he wants to get larger and larger, fatter and fatter while Steve gets more fit- he's training for a marathon right now. The contrast between their bodies is endlessly sexy to them both... 

They play with immobility a lot. It’s easier to play the closer it gets too.

So, playing, the most Bucky moves for a while is between the couch and the bed, heavy, plodding steps that take forever, winding Bucky while his boyfriend is right next to him, light on his feet and only breathing heavily because he’s turned on. Turned on by this because Bucky is turned on by it too; it being the heavy jiggle of all his fat as he shuffles from the bed to the couch, stuffed from breakfast in bed and now holding what part of his stomach that he can actually reach. Trying to hold himself together practically. He’s so round. He’s so stuffed but you can’t tell because his packed hard stomach is buried under all that blubber. And by the time he gets to the couch, he’s had to stop several times, pausing to gather his strength to get there. 

Once on the couch, Steve brings him a gainer shake not unlike the protein shakes he makes for himself before he goes to the gym (but with about double the calories and more sugar) to “keep up his fluids”. Bucky guzzles it down like nothing. Like it's water. He’s still hot and sweaty from walking. Hot as in temperature and hot as in turned on... Steve is gonna have to use that gym-honed strength to lift his heavy, heavy tummy and fat pad up out of the way to get to his dick before long 🥵 Then, he can use his hands or put his mouth on him while Bucky rubs his upset, full tummy and contemplates how he could possibly get himself fuller. 🥴🥴 Ever hungry for the perfect feeling of being pushed all the way to his limits- about to burst he’s so bloated and full and heavy with it. Getting heavier the more he eats. The more he stuffs into his fat face. 

But that’s the thing.

Bucky stays on the couch for the rest of the day- eating. He has snacks while sitting on the couch. He has lunch while sitting on the couch. He has more snacks while sitting on the couch. He has dinner while sitting on the couch. He has dessert while sitting on the couch. He… he tries to get up to follow Steve to the bedroom so they can sleep together, Steve cuddling as close as he possibly can to his big, fat, fucking huge boyfriend who's body is a pillow all over, soft, but-

Oh, shit. 

Bucky moans. He can’t get up. 

It’s not the first time he’s eaten himself into the inability to get up off the couch, so they camp out in the living room all night. However, it is the first time he’s done it by accident. Usually, when he can’t move from the couch to the bed it’s pretend, more of that role-play, or it’s planned in the day's events… an all-day stuffing that leaves him unable to move under the weight of all those calories. Now he just can’t move from a normal day of eating.

God. 

That shouldn’t make him as hot as it does but… here he is. And Steve has to go and find his cock where it’s buried under all his blubber again. 

...

In the morning - when he’s the lightest and his stomach is the least round it’ll be all day, not yet stuffed full - Bucky tries again. He grunts and then moans.

He can’t get up. 🥵😫

He can’t-

Fuck. 

It’s all his fantasies (all the realistic ones) come true. 

He’s eaten himself so big he can’t get off his huge, fat ass. He’s too fucking fat. So big. So large that Steve has to stretch himself out to straddle one of his huge thighs. So massive that he can’t touch the roundest part of his stomach, it’s grown out so big, so round. So vast that he’s got more than a double chin- three or four instead. So mammoth that he’s stuck in place, overwhelmed by his own body. 

Steve is overwhelmed by his body too. 

Sure, they could ease up and not stuff Bucky every hour (probably more like every half hour at this point) and he would drop enough weight quickly, it’s not like he’ll starve, that he could get mobility back in the snap of someone’s fingers but… this is too good. It's too good to be stuck on his huge ass with his only job to eat. It's not even his own job to rub his unbelievably massive stomach anymore. He can't reach all of it. So he can't do a good job of it. Steve has to do that instead. Bucky just gets to stuff his face and grow.

I went off-script from your prompt but I hope you still enjoyed it 🥰

[bosskie]

Regarding your latest post; I always wondered how glukkon skulls work. The back of their heads have this weird jiggly physics to them, something that was present in Oddysee and Exoddus but definitely more noticeable in soulstorm with the animation upgrade, implying they’re soft and loose. I like to think it’s either that the glukkons skeletons are made of a soft yet sturdy cartilage like sharks or other marine animals, or perhaps their heads have a layer of blubbery fat. It might explain why they’re able to take a surprising amount of hits when Abe slaps one of them in Exoddus lol.

Yeah, Glukkons seemed to have a bit more solid heads before but animation physics of Soulstorm catched my attention and made me wonder their head structure more. I feel like their heads might be a mixture of them all. I did this little illustrative picture to explain better:

This is how I imagine Glukkon skulls:

The yellow area is a part of their skull that consists of solid bones or at least a part of that, like teeth. The green area is their ‘brain cage’ that protects their brains and consists of cartilage and that purple area is something else that supports their heads. Their occipital lobe might consist of the same tissue as that purple area or is something similar. Their brains seem to be under a thin but tough skin on top since you can see its veins, and brain folds. I gotta admit that I don’t know enough about this biology area to be more exact but these are my thoughts. There is so much to wonder in this world...

And yes, Glukkons seem to have surprisingly tough heads. It might be like that thanks to their flexible head structure. I just got an idea: This reminds me of the fact that children are more resistant to hits without breaking their bones than adults because their bones are more flexible than adults’. Yeah, it might explain the same thing with Glukkons. Like, Molluck’s head is also not broken at all even he hit his head hard to the metal floor but he broke some of his teeth because they are more solid than the rest of his head.

Also, I’m glad to see that I’m not wondering these Glukkon ‘n’ Molluck things alone! One can think about something that another didn’t think about and ect. Man, Glukkon anatomy would be a good topic to ask from Lorne. I have also been half-joking about that could worker Glukkons become drones like worker Mudokons or is it only a Mudokon thing. Yeah, so much things to wonder. (Y)

And since you left this message, I wanna tell you that I have been silently enjoying your Molluck and Glukkon theories and stuff before I even started this blog! I was about to came to say this to you one day but man, I’m always kinda afraid of talking and socializing with people, no matter how nice they seem. Also, I wanna thank you specially for your support! It really has helped me to keep posting stuff when my self-hatred has tried to make me disappear from online. I know that one should enjoy creating stuff regardless of others and be here primarily for themselves but when your mind constantly mocks and criticizes you, you slowly start to believe in it and see others’ stuff much better than yours making you think that why you should even post your rubbish. When the case is this, support really feels like a knock on my shoulder that my stuff doesn’t suck and helps me to keep fighting against my self-hatred. It really surprises me if someone likes my stuff, like truly. Man, writing this made me cry but only in a good way.

~Lots of love to you!

[brawlingdiscontent]

the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 3/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(part one) (part two)

Hi all, I am so sorry for the space between these updates! - I am so close to finishing my PhD (not in any history or medieval studies field, lol) and things are just really hectic with revisions, publications and syllabi, etc.

A reminder that the last chapter (from 5000 years ago) ended with Charles being graphically/violently threatened by a mysterious man. (See the link above if you’d like to re-read it.

Warnings: Slightly gory description, mentions/implications of violence and sexual assault, child death (not Charles’ kids)

----

In the end, they don't set off that afternoon. 

It’s decided in a council, a strategy meeting that Charles is not invited to, and reported to him curtly by Lehnsherr later that day that if they start off early enough it’s only most of a day’s ride to Eoforowic, and is the preferable alternative to the vulnerability of camping overnight. 

He sees almost no one before the Danish king returns to the tent bearing an evening meal. 

The man in question has forgone the advisors and trailing pages, leaving his subordinates behind for the night, as no loud voices or other signs announce his arrival. The denizens of the camp are likely off savouring the hours of daylight that remain in varied nefarious ways.  The long summer nights are not yet over, but in the tent it’s darker, shadowed but not yet dim enough to warrant a candle or fat lamp. The canvas walls seem to glow faintly with the strange quality of early evening light.

Charles has arranged himself in a defensive position, seated at the small table on the lone chair facing the tent flap. He took advantage of his time alone to redistribute a number of the furs from the main pile, making the corner where he intends once again to sleep more comfortable and well-padded. Together with the extra things Alex brought him--when, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they risked exchanging only a nod to confirm his task’s success--he fashioned a warm berth for himself. His current placement, with its slight chill, is a tactical necessity. He straightens in the hard, wooden seat. It’s best to avoid being caught in a prone position lest Lehnsherr take it as an invitation. 

When he enters, Lehsherr carries in two rough-hewn, steaming wooden bowls balanced atop an extra stool. 

“You must be hungry.” 

Charles scans him for ulterior motives, finding none for now. He hasn’t eaten since the food that was left for him this morning, but can’t seem to muster up much of an appetite. 

“Yes. Thank you,” he says anyway. He needs to keep his strength up. 

Lehnsherr sets the bowls on the small table, nudging one slightly towards Charles, and the stool beside it. He then turns away, once again going through the routine of divesting himself of his gear. If he notices or has any feelings about Charles’ rearrangement of his space he says nothing, leaving Charles to return to his own thoughts.

That afternoon, after the monstrous man retreated, slinking off to some other part of the camp while Charles stood shaken, Charles’ guards had suddenly and conspicuously reappeared.

As he was escorted back to Lehnsherr’s tent, Charles had, briefly, turned over the possibility of telling him what happened. Of what could be construed as nothing other than a violent threat. But the man hadn’t actually done anything, hadn’t even touched Charles. And what, even, were the chances that Lehnsherr would believe him—or that he would care? In any case what exactly could he expect the Dane to do? The bear-man, whoever he is, must be powerful, as he contrived some way—whether by bribery or sheer command—to send the guards away from their positions outside the tent. 

—Or, the thought had occurred to him, both disturbing and the most plausible yet, perhaps Lehnsherr had sent the man to threaten him, to warn him off and keep him in line. It is this possibility that is nearest in his mind as Lehnsherr wanders the tent.

“I trust you found your men well?” Lehnsherr questions, not turning from where he is folding his gambeson.

Charles contemplates several responses. Acerbic: ‘Alive would be a more accurate understanding.’ Another part of him wants to respond in anger, Logan’s blackened eye, the morning’s events, urging him to confront and accuse Lehnsherr. It’s an urge he knows is at least partly the product of fear. He presses his palms flat against the wood of the table and feels its uneven surface press back. In the end, exhausted, and unwilling to cause a fuss, he settles on, “I did,” then turns towards the bowl before him.

The food is hot, rabbit this time. Likely commandeered from one of the many the braziers and fire pits that dot the camp as he doubts Lehnsherr has had time for hunting. It is good, and Charles feels some appetite flare again, even when Lehnsherr has divested enough weapons and layers and joins him at the table.

A silence falls between them, not exactly awkward, but not quite comfortable either. On Charles’ end, it stems from reservation. Lehnsherr, conversely, seems content not to speak.

Charles steals surreptitious glances between bites. He studies the lines of the other man’s face trying to puzzle him out as the shadows in the tent begin to lengthen. 

He’s a man become even more confusing and inscrutable after the day’s events. If Lehnsherr had sent that beast of a man to threaten him in place of doing so himself, it speaks to a capacity for sophisticated psychological manipulation, one that goes beyond and complicates his reputation for sheer brutality. For all of Charles’ careful planning he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Lehnsherr might be worse than Shaw. He needs to know who he’s—getting into bed with, his mind supplies—getting involved with. Only then can he have any hope to defend himself. For who can say what will happen to whatever appeal he has—the tenuous sexual hold that had checked Lehnsherr the night before—once Lehnsherr finally gets what he wants and is sated. What then can Charles possibly do to hold him back, should he prove monstrous? 

He must have been more transparent in his observation than he realized, an act which once again is misinterpreted. 

“Relax, your Highness.” Lehnsherr says.  “I’ll honour your wish to wait. I won’t touch you.”  

“Until we are married,” Charles says aloud if only to remind himself, tracking with his eyes the slow advance of a line of shadow across the table.

“Until we are married,” Lehnsherr agrees, his voice carrying notes of something that has Charles turning back studiously to his food to avoid analyzing.

...

The sun is just ghosting above the horizon when they assemble to head off the next morning, gently bathing the plain in its orange-red glow. There’s a morning chill carried in the wind that batters at Charles’ cheeks. It wipes away the bleariness of the early hour, and makes him glad that extra furs were among the items that he’d requested Alex fetch. And yet the last edges of summer are holding on; it’s nothing compared to the winter they’ll face once the seasons change and even the memories of warmth fade.

Lehnsherr had woken him just before dawn, and they’d had a hurried breakfast in the tent by the light of a flickering taper. More of the flat, dry bread and some of the season’s last berries, foraged from a nearby bush.

They’ll be going overland to Eoforwic. It’s the slower route than sailing up the coast, which tells Charles that either Lehnsherr doesn’t want their journey observed or reported, or that he’s uncertain of what awaits them in Eoforwic.

Scanning the group, Charles counts about fifty gathered, all told. Enough to defend themselves if it came down to it, but still a small enough party to travel relatively unobtrusively. 

His horse gives a restless shuffle, tugging gently on the reins in his hands. A nobleman's former mount, certainly. Fine little features stand out in the saddle, tack, and gear. The rivets in the saddle bags are detailed in a star motif, points radiating out in blades of light, as only the very wealthy could afford. It was probably scavenged from its slain owner, or, optimistically, was given up by a defeated city relinquishing its riches. Londres had given up several hundred horses in the surrender.  

Lehnsherr, who’d gone off on an unnamed errand after seeing Charles matched with a horse, approaches once more. He’s leading not only a horse of his own, but a woman. Charles recognizes her dark eyes and small stature from the previous morning. 

“Charles,” Lehnsherr says without ceremony, “this is Angel. She’s here to assist you.”

He looks back over at her, as she returns his gaze placidly. Assist him? The road, travelling rough as they are, is no place for an attendant. Then, focusing on her smooth expression, it all clicks into place.

Assist him. Ha. More like spy on him. He quickly re-assesses the meeting he interrupted yesterday as an intelligence report. Interesting. Sebastian, with his more traditionalist views, would likely not have thought to assign such a job to a beta or omega woman. 

He manages, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” It’s a lie, of course, but Charles was raised with manners, and she can’t help the assignment she's been tasked with. While Charles is fairly confident in his charm,  Angel proves just as enigmatic as her commander, offering merely a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow before turning to see to her own mount.

With eyes on him secured, Lehnsherr seems relatively content to leave him alone, as he heads up towards the front of the column to rally the troops.

They set off, and Charles easily falls towards the back of the group, ghosted by Angel. If he had any remaining doubts about her occupation, they dissipate after watching her subte, silent moments, even on horseback.

Travelling en masse, they alternate bursts of speed with walking breaks to keep a sustainable pace for the horses.

He is content to pass the first canter course just relishing the abandon of the pace, the uneven terrain below the horses’ hooves. The sun gradually climbs higher until he can feel the warmth of it on his hair, and the wind blows across his face. He basks in the experience of being out in the open, running wild (if not free) after six months of siege. 

The dusty roadside is lined here and there with dots of blue chicory, long stems stretching up tenaciously towards the sky. A flock of chaffinches, startled by their appearance, burst in flight. His spy, Angel, seems to have melted away into the group, perhaps prefering to operate in her usual mode when her targets don’t know she’s there. It is tempting to forget the circumstances and enjoy the moment. 

But Charles is too pragmatic, hardened by bitter experience underlined by recent events, to let this lapse in Lehnsherr’s attention (Angel aside) go to waste.

In the first walking break, he looks around at the stragglers in the second half of the party for promising targets of some reconnaissance of his own. Just ahead and to his left are two burly men engaged in animated discussion. Inching subtly closer, he’s disappointed but not surprised to find that they’re speaking Danish. He has so little of the language, certainly not enough to make reliable sense of their discussion, but at the least perhaps listening might improve his facility. He listens amongst the glottal phrases for repeated sounds he might begin to decipher.

“It’s a blunt-tongued language, isn’t it?” a warm voice addresses Charles from slightly behind.

He starts and turns his body in the direction of the sound—as pleased to hear the softer tones of Saxon as he is startled at the sudden intrusion—to find another rider approaching on his right.

He’s a young man, a little younger than Charles from appearances, and clothed in unusual attire. A flat sort of cap, fashioned from a vibrant dark red material, adorns his head. His tunic, where it peeks through his furs, is woven of rich fabric: not over-ornamented, but of a quality far surpassing the coarse weaves and eclectic dress of the surrounding men. He carries himself with a cool confidence, perched lightly on his saddle, relaxed and much more poised than any other of Lehnsherr’s men.

Charles pulls gently at the reins, slowing his horse’s pace to allow the other man to draw even with him. 

Even as he takes him in, the clothing stirs a memory at the back of his mind of a childhood long ago; Muslim traders at the Norman court. The memory is an old one; Sebastian’s kingdom was an insular one and didn’t get on with outsiders, let alone cultured guests from the learned centres of the world. 

“Forgive me for startling you, Your Highness,” the man says. Despite Charles’ deliberate choice to leave his circlet behind at the tent, it seems that Lehnsherr’s scene in the banquet hall the other night has left him no chance of anonymity.

“That’s quite alright. Though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“The name’s Armando, sir.”

“Armando.” He says, rolling the name around in his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It's the second time today he’s offered these words, but he finds he can be more sincere with them when not faced with a spy. “And what is your role here?” He’s a figure somewhat misplaced among the rough-and-tumble Danes. 

“I’m a physician. Born in Cordoba, and trained in Alexandria.” 

A frisson of excitement runs through Charles at this announcement. “You speak Saxon very well for an Andalusian. Better than myself, and I’ve been speaking it almost since birth.” 

“Thank you. Once I had the first few, the next languages came easily enough.” He switches into Norman for the second part of explanation to demonstrate.

“How many others do you speak?” 

“Fluently? I’d say seven--maybe eight.” He cracks a broad, warm smile at Charles’ astonishment. “What can I say? I’m adaptive.” 

Mindful of his spy close at hand, Charles yet can’t hide his delight to be in the company of a fellow seeker in the pursuit of knowledge, one with personal experience of the madrasas of the learned world at that. Despite this, he tries to rein himself in before his enthusiasm overwhelms his caution. After all, no matter how much he may seem a kindred spirit, he doesn’t know Armando nor his agenda. And, after seeing firsthand the danger that lurks in the camp, he’d be a fool to count himself safe. 

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. It’s in the next walking break that Charles, between probing questions about the scientific and medical developments out of Baghdad, catches sight of a head above the crowd. His heart stutters, and he almost jerks on the reins impulsively. Riding up at the front, near Lehnsherr, but a bit off to the side. He’s easy to spot, rising nearly head-and-shoulders above the men surrounding him, stature and bearskin robe unmistakable.

“Armando, what can you tell me about that man?”

Armando follows his gaze to the front of the party, and when he sees the man to whom Charles refers seems to hesitate. 

“He goes by the name of Sabretooth. He leads one of the strongest factions among the Danish warriors.” He pauses so long that Charles thinks he might have to prompt again, before continuing. “He and his supporters are known for their unyielding savagery in battle. I’ve only ever seen the aftermath.” Armando looks towards the riders at the front, squinting into the midday sun at the outline of the man in question. His words seem improbably incongruous in the brightness of the day. “Going into battle they consume a potion to free them of inhibitions and drive away all traces of remorse. Many of his followers file their teeth, supposedly to more easily rend the flesh of their enemies. Except Sabretooth himself who they say likes the challenge of a duller edge.” 

Charles masks his disquiet with a wry remark. “No doubt a firm favourite of his Grace.” He had heard tell of such stories, whispers of viking cannibals, but had always assumed them to be over-inflations of reality. 

“You’re wrong about that, actually.” 

He looks back over, surprised. 

“I have the sense—mind you, this is just my perception—that His Grace dislikes him very much.”

Charles thinks on this. Armando’s explanation would seem to square with the disagreement he witnessed back at the camp. Furthermore, the man—Sabretooth—seems prone to unpredictable violence, of a sort that might irk someone as careful and controlled as Lehnsherr. And yet—

“If that's the case, why invite him on such a party?

Armando takes a moment to respond, looking between the two riders up ahead. “There’s a common saying in Alexandria. It translates roughly to: a wise man holds his enemies close to his breast but far from his heart.”  

Charles nods in agreement as he notes the appropriateness of it, thinking of the justification he had used to convince Lehnsherr to take him along even as he once again reconfigures his knowledge of the man. He, too, is an enemy Lehnsherr has held close. But before he can take the train of thought much further, the low blast of a horn signals the return to a canter, and it’s lost in the clatter of advancing hooves.

…

In the late afternoon, the first sign of smoke on the horizon alerts them. It curls above the treetops a little ways off the road. Too dense and heavy to be from a cooking fire. 

The nearby homestead is set back from the road, but after the party halts at another horn blast a few riders break away from the pack in its direction. Charles pulls his horse past the crowd of remaining men and follows after them.

It’s a desolate scene. What was formerly a cottage now smouldering ashes but for the charred edges of a door frame still standing. The field of crops outside is churned up and scattered. Crushed stalks of barley that were trodden under horses’ hooves are beaten into the mud. A handful of slaughtered animals lie along the path. But what is most evident is the woman crouched in front of the remains of the house, keening in grief. Her ragged dress is torn, at her side a small child with a soot in their hair and clothes.

Lehnsherr has already dismounted, handed off his reins to another rider in order to survey the scene. Charles follows suit without a thought, and once he gets closer, it unfolds before him tragic inevitability.

He sees the dead man lying a few feet away from the woman and child, his grotesquely splayed body telling the story of his violent end. Then, clutched in the woman’s arms, a boy. A mere child, perhaps thirteen summers. His small eyes are closed almost peacefully, his forehead smeared with clotted blood. 

Armando, who has followed Charles from the road, is quick to be rallied to aid. 

Insensible in grief, the woman seems to barely register their presence as they cautiously approach. The young child, likely too small to comprehend the events that have taken place, tugs on her dress to get her attention, until she at last looks up at them. Her gaze is empty as one beyond reach, already crossed over to the next world.

It strikes Charles deeply, who freezes, feeling her disconnection mirrored in his own. Dissociation is a strategy he’s used to make himself hard, hiding his emotions in a fortress to protect them from a scene that has and will continue to play out countless times across the countryside. Recognizing it now in this woman, he’s struck by its haunting unnaturalness, the hollowness it invokes.

Armando, who had gently nudged the woman aside to conduct an examination, looks up and shakes his head. 

The young child shrieks suddenly, drawing back and cowering behind their mother, who, past caring, doesn’t noticeably react. The cause is soon clear: having finished attentively examining the scene and damage, Lehnsherr is making his way over. To his credit, in response to the child’s dismay he slows his approach and spreads his hands wide in the universal symbol of non-aggression. It’s the only reason that Charles makes no move to stop him as he nears the woman and child, and crouches down.

Charles watches as he starts a conversation in Saxon, gently asking a question or two. He thinks he hears Lehnsherr quietly mutter a few words following the woman’s stilted responses. Then the man pulls an aged leather drawstring pouch from somewhere on his person, and produces several small, glinting coins which he hands to the woman.

A weregild.

Blood price for so much death and evil, paid for with some mere pieces of metal. He rails internally at his own impotence, safe behind a palace wall while people are suffering; dying. And at the authors of the violence, as Lehnsherr’s actions here have surely confirmed, the very men he rides with. 

He’s overwhelmed by a helpless rage that washes over him like a tide. 

“A few coins” the words come out flat, subdued. “Do you think they can repair the loss of a husband, bring back her child?” It’s an accusation but empty, anger deserting him as quickly as it arrived for a dull hopelessness. 

Lehnsherr turns to him, delayed. His gaze is a bit distant, as though he’d forgotten Charles was there.

“It will bring them food,” he says levelly, “buy them shelter for the winter. Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Charles stands there for an indeterminable span of time, consumed by the endless cruelties of men. By this tangible reminder of the pain caused and lives lost to men—no, not men, beasts, seeking only personal glory, an enrichment of power.

“You generals and your wars,” he says coldly and turns away, the smoke still stinging in his eyes.

[m0rkl]

For the Markiplier Community Big Sass Bake Sale, I decided to make my Oat Milk Caramel Sauce! It’s one of my favorite things to make and since I don’t usually like very sweet things, I like making a dark and toasty caramel that doesn’t taste overly sugary.

When I make this, I sort of half follow my own directions, half do whatever the fuck seems right. Is this conductive to making a good recipe? Probably not, but is it still a damn good caramel sauce? I mean, I hope so. Scroll down and read under the cut if you want my real recipe instructions.

Regardless, I start with a cup of oat milk. I use full fat, but like, where is the fat in oat milk? It’s oats. I don’t understand. But I do it anyways because more fat generally means better taste so why not? I add the whiskey before I start heating it, but you don’t have to add it, I just like the flavor it gives. Once I added it after the sugar and it curdled like a little bitch and I had to throw it out. I don’t know why it did that. Probably science, but whatever reason it happened, it sucked and I had to throw it all out.

Then I simmer the oat milk over medium-high heat until it’s down to about the consistency of heavy cream. This probably takes about ten minutes, but I’ve never actually timed it. Sometimes I use a vanilla bean instead of vanilla bean paste. If I’m using the bean, I’ll cut it open, scrape all the bits into the milk and let the whole pod sit in the milk while it condenses. If I’m using paste, that goes in later.

While the oat milk is going, I brown the butter. I hate butter. If you’ve ever lived with me, you’ll know that, for whatever reason it may be, I hate butter. It’s slimy and gross, and if I can taste it, I just… bleh. I overuse olive oil for this reason, but you can’t use olive oil in this recipe. But for this, we’re browning the butter, which make it considerably more tolerable. I cut the butter into quarter inch pieces and set it in a frying pan. Then I set it over medium heat and stir frequently. It will start to foam up pretty quickly and just keep stirring until you start getting browned bits along the bottom. Apparently it’s best to use a wooden spoon for this, but I couldn’t be bothered to find out why. You can google it if you really care that much.

Once the milk and the butter are ready, I add the butter into the oat milk pot. I don’t actually think this is the order you’re supposed to put this in when you’re making caramel, but I’ve never really fucked this recipe up so I guess its fine. Once I’ve made sure to scrape all the brown bits into the milk, I whisk it all up and start adding in the sugar. My recipe calls for dark brown sugar, but I usually just use whatever form of brown sugar is on hand. I have no clue how this affects the flavor, but dark brown sugar sounds more bougie. I mean, I’m also using vanilla bean paste and whiskey so its going to be at least a little bougie regardless. Speaking of vanilla, this would be the time to add the paste. You can use extract instead, for a less bougie effect.

Once all of that is added in, I let it simmer and stir occasionally. Somewhere along the line here I add salt to taste. I like kind of a lot of salt in my sweets, so the amount is really just whatever you like the taste of. From there, I let the sauce cook down to a consistency that I like. To be honest, I start out every time going “ah fuck its too liquid-y” but by the time it’s actually cooked down it ends up fine. Just try not to turn the heat up and down a lot otherwise you’ll get some oil separation and the end texture will be a little grainy. Once its to a kind of drippy, but sort of thick consistency, turn off the heat. As it cools, it will set up and thicken a little more.

This sauce is great for a lot of things, I’ve used it as a base for german chocolate cake frosting, as dip for apple slices, or ice cream topping. I especially like putting a spoonful in my coffee. It’s just tasty. As for ‘serving size’ eeeh I couldn’t really tell you, but you end up with almost two cups of caramel? Maybe closer to a cup and a half. I’ve yet to actually measure it, but you could if you wanted to. Or don’t. I don’t care.

Here’s actually recipe under the cut without my bitching lol

Ingredients

1 cup of Oatmilk

1/2 cup of butter

1 cup of dark brown sugar (packed)

1/2 tablespoon vanilla bean paste(or 1 vanilla bean)

A large pinch of salt

1 tablespoon of whiskey

1.      Condense the Oat Milk- In a saucepan, bring the oat milk to a medium-high heat. If you are using the optional whiskey, add it now. Let it simmer and stir occasionally for about ten minutes or until its about the consistency of cream.

2.      Brown the Butter- While the oat milk is condensing, cut the butter into quarter inch pieces. Then, place them in a frying pan and bring to medium heat. Let it melt and stir frequently, to ensure even melting. The butter will foam up and star to smell nice and toasty. Keep stirring until you have a nice layer of brown bits on at the bottom of your pan. If your oat milk is ready, pour your browned butter directly into the saucepan. If not, transfer the butter into a heat safe container so that it doesn’t burn in the pan. Make sure to scrape all the browned bits into the pan.

3.      Add the Sugar- Add the brown sugar and vanilla to the saucepan. Bring it all to a medium heat and stir until the sugar is incorporated. Sprinkle in the salt and keep stirring.

4.      Simmer- Turn the heat up to a medium high and stir occasionally as the caramel thickens. Once the sauce is thick enough that you can get thin ribbons, you’re good to go! The sauce will thicken up as it cools