#nice and spooky-ooky

[bloodmoonblitz]

@bylerween2023 day 5: Came back wrong. When you watch him while he sleeps 😍🙈 (close-ups + extra sketch under cut)

Also... I couldn't decide if i wanted will to look straight forward, or at mike so have this version too:

[theveryworstthing]

some Slime Lore from patreon:

Some slime mold dryads. Which aren't really dryads? Or at least, not living ones? It's complicated. Depending on which dryad cultures you ask, they're either the dryad version of biblically accurate angels,  a physical manifestation of the space between death and rebirth in the reincarnation cycle, or ghosts. When specific conditions are met, conditions that even dryads themselves aren't sure about, a slime mold that would normally feed on a dead dryad and move on will instead encase the body and become...something else. As the body is consumed, the imperfect imprint of it remains, and this new Being is formed with bits of the dryad's memories and personality mixed with the newly elevated slime mold's whole deal. Which is kind of horrifying because slime molds are already pretty weird when they're just slime moldin' around, but when they get access to this rare (and very long, like triple a dryad's natural lifespan at least) stage in their life cycle, well. There's a reason that one of their closest comparisons are of biblically accurate angels.

Despite the awestruck reverence, existential horror, and grief that can sometimes be felt by making contact with these beings, most dryads think of them as gentle kin who are merely going through a great and wondrous transition, and slime mold dryads usually take the position of guardians or sages in their communities.

It's kind of like the dead dryad was allowed to peek at the inner workings of the universe and then came back to tell everyone about it. Which is nice. And terrifying. Because of this, dryads might have the clearest picture about what happens to them after they die and they Do Not Want To Talk About It.

Long story short, they're the Small Guide version of slime girls and they're ooky spooky.

[simsbyali]

Sims 4 TV Family Legacy Challenge

My husband and I worked on this together... It's a Legacy Challenge based on TV families from shows... Of course I left out the families with horrible personalities (Such as the Cosby Show (Bill Cosby) and All in the Family (Let's face it, Archie was a racist... But, hey, if you want to add them into your challenge, that is entirely up to you!

TV Family Legacy Challenge: 

Rules are simple: 

Infants have to remain infants for the entire time. 

Toddlers can be aged up if they get level 3 in all skills, or level 5 on one skill. 

Children can be aged up either by completing their aspirations or by becoming an A student 

Teenagers can be leveled up either by completing their aspirations or by becoming an A student 

Adults must finish at least one level of aspiration before they die. 

Can be done in any order, and you are allowed to use cheats. I understand the game gets annoying without cheats. 

Generation 1: The Addamses 

“They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky, they’re all together ooky, the Addams Family” 

Starts with a patriarchal household (Gomez Addams) 

Must have either Successful Lineage or Famously Wealthy Aspiration 

Must have Romantic and Gloomy traits 

Must have a partner with the same traits, but Soulmate Aspiration 

Inherited money, so you or your partner don’t have to work a day in your life (feel free to use the Motherlode cheat to become filthy stinking rich) 

Feel free to add Fester and Grandmama, if you’d like. 

Must have at least 3 children, and at least 1 of those children must be a boy. The youngest child will be the heir. 

Generation 2: The Munsters 

“The lesson I want you to learn is: It doesn't matter what you look like. You can be tall or short or fat or thin, or ugly or handsome, like your father, or you can be black or yellow or white. It doesn't matter. But what does matter is the size of your heart and the strength of your character.” 

After growing up in a family who was wealthy, you didn’t need to work. You had all the money you could ever need. Now you can focus on raising your family. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Patriarchal head (Grandpa Munster) 

Optional Pack: Sims 4 Vampires/Werewolves 

Must have Successful Lineage aspiration 

Must have Gloomy and genius traits 

Must have at least 1 daughter, and the daughter must marry a green man (who has the personality trait Childish) and live with you. 

Have 1 grandson, who will be the heir for the next generation. 

Generation 3: The Bradys 

“Here’s a story, of a lovely lady, who was bringing up 3 very lovely girls. All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls.” 

Growing up, you were sheltered and didn’t get to talk to people all that much. When you finally meet someone, it’s love at first sight. You settle down in a nice house and raise your family together. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Patriarchal Head (Mike Brady) 

Must have Big Happy Family aspiration 

Must have Romantic and Family-Oriented traits 

Must have 6 children, 3 girls and 3 boys. The youngest girl or boy will be the heir. 

Must have a maid. 

Optional Pack: Sims 4 Cats & Dogs  

Generation 4: The Partridges 

“We had a dream, we'd go travelin' together, We'd spread a little lovin' then we'd keep movin' on.  Somethin' always happens whenever we're together We get a happy feelin' when we're singing a song.” 

Growing up in a large family, you were used to being invisible, after all, you were the youngest girl. You meet a guy, have some kids. You then become the lead singer for your kids’ band, although at first you’re too shy to be in front of people. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Matriarchal Head (Shirley Partridge) 

Must have Musical Genius aspiration 

Must follow and max out the Singer occupation 

Must have Family Oriented and Outgoing traits 

Must have 5 kids: 2 girls, 3 boys (make sure the heir is a boy to continue onto the Full House generation, unless you want to skip to one of the optional families) 

Marry your soulmate and then lose him once the oldest son becomes a teenager. 

Optional Pack: Sims 4 Cats & Dogs 

Or 

Generation 4: The Ricardos 

“Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do!” 

Growing up in a large family, you were used to being invisible, after all, you were the youngest boy. You meet the love of your life and together you move into a small house, and you follow your dream of becoming a lounge singer. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Patriarchal Head (RIcky Ricardo) 

Must have Musical Genius aspiration 

Must follow and max out the Singer career path 

Must have Hot-headed and Music Lover traits 

Must have at least 1 son 

Must have a wife that has red hair, and has the traits of Family-Oriented and Jealous traits 

Optional Pack: Sims 4 Dine Out- Open your own restaurant and become successful.   

Generation 5: The Tanners 

“Whatever happened to predictablity? The paperboy, milkman, evening TV? You miss your old familiar friends waiting just around the bend.” 

With your family being successful in music, you move into a big house and meet your partner. You get married and get a job working in Journalism. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Patriarchal Head (Danny Tanner) 

Must have the Best-Selling author aspiration 

Must follow the Journalist career path 

Must have Neat and Family-Oriented traits 

Must have at least 3 daughters 

Lose wife in a tragic accident 

(Optional: Add Joey and Uncle Jesse to your household) 

Optional Pack: Sims 4 Cats & Dogs 

Generation 6: The Winslows 

“It’s a rare condition, this day and age, to read any good news on the newspaper page. And love and tradition of the grand design, some people say it’s even harder to find. Well, there must be some magic clue inside these gentle walls cause all I see is a tower of dreams, real love bursting out of every seam.” 

After a long successful line of entertainers, you decide to take a different approach. After you move out, you fall in love with a non-entertainer, get married, and move into a house big enough for 8 people. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Matriarchal Head (Estelle Winslow) 

Must have Big Happy Family aspiration 

Must have Family-Oriented and Cheerful traits 

Must marry a policeman 

Must have a son who becomes a police officer 

Son (Hot-Headed and Family-Oriented traits) and wife must live with you after your husband dies. 

Have at least 3 grandchildren 

(Optional: Add Aunt Rachel and Ritchie to household) 

(Also Optional: Make Steve Urkel) 

Generation 7: The Banks 

“I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie ‘Yo holmes, smell ya later’ Looked at my kingdom I was finally there to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.” 

Inspired by your father, you decided to follow in his footsteps and join a criminal justice career. You worked from the ground up and became a successful judge, married a beautiful woman, and settled down in a mansion in the fanciest part of town. Your story begins as a young adult. 

Patriarchal Head (Phillip Banks) 

Must have either the Successful Lineage or Fabulously Wealthy aspiration 

Must have a career in Secret Agent (Base Game) 

Must have Foodie and Hot-Headed traits 

Must have a maid or butler 

Must have at least 4 children (2 girls, 2 boys) 

Nephew comes to live with you (Nephew’s traits should be Romantic and Ambitious) 

(Optional: Add Jeff as Will’s best friend) 

Optional Packs: Get to Work for Detective career or DIscover University for Judge career 

Generation 8: The Spellmans 

“What’s the matter? I have to be a witch, I have to be a mortal, I have to be a teenager, and I have to be a girl, all at the same time. That’s what’s the matter.” 

You have a good life, you’re living with your sister, and you have a good relationship with your brothers. You’re not too fond of the fact that one of your brothers married a woman who is so unlike the family, but, you love him all the same. You’ve offered to take your brother’s daughter should he end up dying. Your story starts when you reach young adult. 

Matriarchal Head (Zelda or HIlda Spellman) 

Must have the Big Happy Family aspiration 

Must have the Neat and Ambitious traits (Zelda) or Childish and Slob traits (Hilda) 

Must work in some sort of Science field (Zelda) 

Must be good friends with both of your brothers. 

Take in your niece when she’s a child and raise her after her parents’ early demise. 

Optional Packs: Realm of Magic and/or Cats & Dogs 

Generation 9: The Gilmores 

“If you’re out on the road, feeling lonely and so cold, all you have to do is call my name and I’ll be there on the next train. If you need me, I will follow, anywhere that you tell me to.” 

Losing your parents at a young age and being sent to live with your aunts wasn’t exactly something that you were thrilled about. Which is why you become a wild child. Your story starts when you reach teenager.  

Matriarchal Head (Lorelai Gilmore) 

Must have Successful Lineage aspiration 

Must have Cheerful and Ambitious traits 

Must be in the Management branch of the Business career path 

Get pregnant as a teen 

Have at least 1 daughter 

Must not date until your heir is a teenager 

Generation 10: The Prouds 

“You and me will always be tight. Family every single day and night, even when you start acting like a fool, you know I’m loving every single thing you do. I know that I can always be myself around you more than anybody else.” 

As a young adult, you begin to resent your mother for having you way too young and you begin to put a rift between you and your mom so you move out and get married to a swinger. Your story begins when you turn into a young adult. 

Matriarchal Head (Suga Mama) 

Must have the Successful Lineage aspiration 

Must have Family-Oriented and Lazy traits 

Must have 1 son with the Master Chef aspiration; Foodie and Ambitious traits 

Your son gets married and has 3 children 

After your husband dies, you move in with your son and his family 

Optional Pack: Cats & Dogs 

(You can either end it with the Prouds or you can continue with other generations) 

Optional Generations 

The Stephens (Bewitched) 

Patriarchal Head (Darrin Stephens) 

Must have Soulmate aspiration 

Must join the Management path of the Business career 

Realm of Magic: Must be married to a Spellcaster (Optional) 

Have 2 children 

The Bundys (Married... with Children) 

Patriarchal Head (Al Bundy) 

Must have Party Animal aspiration 

Must have Slob and Mean traits 

Must have 2 children (1st child when you’re a teenager) 

Get to Work: Own your own retail store (Optional) 

Marry the mother of your child 

Wife must have Materialistic and Lazy traits 

The Taylors (The Andy Griffith Show) 

Patriarchal Head (Andy Taylor) 

Must have Angling Ace aspiration 

Must join a career that involves Law Enforcement (Special Agent – Base Game, Detective – Get to Work, Judge – DIscovering University 

Marry and have 1 son 

Lose your wife 

The Arnolds (The Wonder Years) 

Patriarchal Head (Jack Arnold) 

Must have the Big Happy Family aspiration 

Must have Hot-Headed trait 

Must join the Management branch of the Business career 

Must have 3 children 

The Taylors (Home Improvement) 

Patriarchal Head (Tim Taylor) 

Must have Nerd Brain aspiration 

Must max out Handiness level 

Must have 3 children 

Must have Outgoing and Family-Oriented traits 

[rozcdust]

I don’t speak to whores

Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader, QPP Kazutora Hanemiya x AroAce!GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, fluff

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, qpp relatinship, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten, vomiting, drinking, taking care of a drunk person, reader has emotional capabilities of a carrot

masterlist

Knuckles rapping on the doors of Mikey’s office, you don’t wait for a ‘come in’ or ‘open’ or ‘fuck off’ or any other response your boss may offer, walking in without a care in the world.

You will, however, soon enough have many, many worries.

“What’s up, boss?”

“We have dinner on Thursday, 9 p.m.” He said from his desk, not raising his gaze from the game he was playing.

“Cool, I’ll schedule that at that one restaurant you like, party of 7?”

“Party of 8.”

“Oh, that spooky-ooky guy I barely see is going too?”

Mikey finally looked up at you.

“No, Mochi isn’t coming, he’s on his honeymoon, but you will.”

You blinked.

“I’ll what?”

“Bonding time.” He merely responded before going back to playing fucking Tetris, as if he didn’t just utter the most horrifying phase in the history of Heaven, Earth and Hell, ensuring your therapy bills quadruple in an instant.

“Boss, is that smart?”

“Bonding with coworkers in a controlled environment is important.”

“You haven’t felt another person’s touch since 2007.”

“Correct, but bonding.”

You stared at him, appalled.

“Boss, I work with feral cats in heat, how the fuck would that be a good idea?”

“Bonding.”

Mikey never looked as kickdroppable as he did at that moment.

Apparently, and according to Takeomi, company dinners are mandatory and you wouldn’t be able to get out of one even if you tried, and tried you have.

Great.

Mikey spreading misery all around, as he does best.

“Have you noticed how all aro ace people dress like whores?” Tora was sitting on your shared bed, his current job of helping you pick an outfit so, oh so tiring, he gave up and chose to just provide random comments from the side.

Which weren’t worth shit, half of his closet was tacky animal print shirts.

“I think that’s exclusively a you thing, but shut it right now, I am angy.”

Kazutora threw up his hands in surrender.

“I have to go to a stupid dinner with stupid coworkers and handle all their stupid flirting and-“ Huffing, you angrily threw the leather jacket off yourself, plopping on the bed and right into Kazutora’s lap.

Kazutora sympathetically patted your head,

“Do you want cuddles?”

“Yes.” Gathering just enough energy to drag yourself up so you were fully seated on him, you buried your face into his neck, his arms immediately wrapping around you. His hair tickled your face, now let out of the bun he usually wore, but it smelled nice, so you allowed it.

“I just want to poison their coffee,” You muttered, pouting when Kazutora chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple as the only response, “They’re so fucking annoying, I swear. I will stab them.”

“Not recommended, sweetheart.”

“Yes, the fuck it is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-uh.”

“You’ll be fine, babe.” Forcing you to look at him, he peppered more kisses onto your face, the pout on it growing even more, and he couldn’t help but think you look so cute like that.

He laughed at the expression, earning a smack in retaliation.

“You suck, Tora.”

“Come on,” He grinned, too cocky for your liking, “Ya love me. You asked me out first!”

Sighing dramatically, you allow your head to fall on his chest, closing your eyes as you breathed in his scent.

“Truly, what a terrible curse has befallen me, to live with a dumb bitch like you, you stupid piece of shit.”

Kazutora’s grin widened, and before you could process, he whipped out the camera out of nowhere, snapping a picture to probably develop and bully you about it later.

“Love you too, honey. Love you too.”

“Hello, y/n l/n, I’m here with a party of 8.” You already sounded exhausted, and the dinner hasn’t even started.

The smiling receptionist led you to the room you reserved, on the top floor, a rather luxurious dining suite with a beautiful view of the city, absolutely breathtaking and way too fucking cliche.

To be fair, you did ask the restaurant for the most expensive suite and the most expensive dinner they offered.

You were already adding dents to Bonten’s self-esteem, why not do it to their wallets too?

All of the men were already there, their eyes observing you carefully and hungrily, and if you were any less confident in your clothing choice, you would have felt a little unnerved.

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for your stupid, horny coworkers, Kazutora stuck you in his ‘Dick slaying outfit’, which meant you were wearing exclusively oversized men’s clothing, courtesy of Kazutora’s lanky form and the muscle mass he seemed to keep no matter the fact the heaviest thing he ever lifted was a cat, with the exception of the sluttiest, smallest crop top the entire city of Tokyo has ever seen.

Also belonging to Kazutora.

Maybe his hypothesis that aroace people dressed like hoes was correct.

Kokonoi tried to comment that the outfit wasn’t quite ‘fine dining’ appropriate, upon which you bit back that their job wasn’t fine dining appropriate, which seemed to quickly shut him up.

Kakucho politely told you that you looked pretty, but he also received a glare, even if he hasn’t quite done anything wrong.

As expected while the night progressed, your coworkers were loud, rude and fully insufferable.

You and Mikey seemed miserable both, desperately trying to pretend you weren’t there when Rindou and Sanzu got into a biting argument about who was taller.

They both got a devastating blow to their self-esteem they realised Kokonoi was, in fact, taller than them both, which got them to start arguing about who’s dick is bigger.

You made a mental note to kill them all if they actually start comparing dicks.

To your relief, they didn’t, instead opting out for a few rounds of a poker drinking game with bullshit rules they made up themselves.

Sanzu was, shockingly, the best, barely having to take a sip all night, and you had to admit you found that at least a little admirable.

You just assumed he fried all his neurons a while ago.

Kokonoi and Kakucho, meanwhile, were failing desperately, and your eyebrows furrowed in worry at the speed the two men were forced to drink.

Fucking idiots, the whole lot of them.

You solemnly vowed to yourself that under no terms would you drive any of them to their house.

You were driving all of them to their house.

God fucking damn it.

Some of them had to be shoved out with a boot and a threat of a stabbing, while some, like Mikey, and shockingly, Ran, left the car quite politely.

You were in mid-pondering when will Ran realise you were in fact, driving his car, and, in fact, left with that same car, when you heard rather unpleasant gagging noises, followed by the sound of car doors opening and vomiting.

Thank God you were at the red light.

And Kakucho was the only one left in that damn back seat-

Fucking lovely.

Kazutora whistled from the balcony as he watched you try and fail to drag Kakucho into the apartment building.

“Damn. That is a nice ride- Does this mean I can quit my job and become the trophy husband you always dreamt of?”

You stopped to look up and glare at him, Kakucho’s arm firmly placed around your shoulder as he still dry heaved, face flushed red and his eyes watering.

“Shut the fuck up and help me take him upstairs!”

Kazutora saluted you as the only response.

You will smother him in his sleep.

Eventually, Tora did come and help you take Kakucho up to your apartment, handling the man more gently than you ever would, perfectly gentle and soft-spoken, borderline cooing, he helped the man take off his coat and shoes, before promptly taking him to the bathroom.

Frowning, you kicked off your shoes as well, following the two and finding Kakucho kneeling on the dark tiled floor in front of the toilet as Tora rubbed his back softly.

Your partner, ever the traitor, left as soon as you stepped in, mentioning how ‘It was your job because it was your coworkers’ and leaving you, the least caring person ever, in charge of this mess of a man.

Sighing, and after forcing one of Kazutora’s tiger-themed headbands with ears on Kakucho to keep his hair at least somewhat clean and out of his face, you sat on the floor next to him, considering your next move.

Maybe you should provide some comfort? You really had little in terms of experience with taking care of drunk people, usually, Tora was the only person you ever had to babysit, and he was usually perfectly content with you just hugging him from the back like a koala and holding his hair.

Hm.

Yeah, you’re not getting that close to Kakucho, no way, he probably had cooties.

Rubbing his back should be okay, though.

“There, there, big guy, get it all out- Yep, good job, like that. Want some water?”

Kakucho merely nodded, his throat dry and scratchy, a stabbing headache and nausea scrambling his brains until he could barely think, but water sounded nice.

Your hand on his back was cold enough to be felt through his shirt, and it felt soothing.

Briefly leaving to return with a bottle of water from the fridge, you uncapped it and offered it to Kakucho, who washed his mouth with the first sip, and downed the immediately, chugging it fast enough that you were genuinely shocked he didn’t choke on any and die on the spot.

He, unfortunately, was not able to keep any of it down, his stomach rejecting to hold any and all liquids, but hey, it was worth a shot.

You opted for wetting a washcloth with cold water and dabbing it on Kakucho’s face, one palm firmly placed on his cheek as you rotated it around knowing Kazutora and Baji liked that when they got sick from drinking, always saying it grounds them.

Maybe talking to Kakucho and reassuring him everything is fine will work too, after all, Chifuyu seemed to like it whenever he joined the other two in their benders and ended up requiring care.

Come to think of it, you only really knew how to take care of people based on Kazutora’s, Baji’s and Chifuyu’s needs.

Huh.

Maybe Kazutora was right in his insistence that you need more friends.

Lightly scratching Kakucho’s scalp, you leaned against the wall, gently telling him to hold on in there and that things will work out just fine, not to worry, this horrible state will pass soon enough, cooing that you’ll let him sleep in your bed, no need to break his back on the shitty couch.

What you did not anticipate, however, was for him to hug your leg firmly enough that you were certain he would break your femur, and start sobbing as he buried his face into your thigh.

Your brain short-circuited just in time for Kakucho to start hiccuping about ‘Missing him so much, he let me sleep on his bed when I was sick too, I miss him so much-‘

Yeah, no.

Not your area anymore, nope.

Nah.

Fuck this.

“KAZUTORA! KAZUTORA HANE-FUCKING-MIYA! HE’S CRYING! KAZUTORA, GET IN HERE! YOU KNOW I CAN’T WITH CRYING HUMANS- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!”

🔖Taglist (open):

@dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @graythecoffeebean @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @nahoyas-nymph @one-green-frog @justrandomlypassing @kio-kookie @haikyuu-simps-assemble @ayhashi @tiredlattes @crown5 @medusalovessnakes @bblyerim @ohnoyouareasimp @sakinotfound @syddisheep @barcelona-sergei @solliver05 @vanillaashakee @gumiwaka @withlovetengen @naorizenin @bontensbabygirl @anahryal @luvjiro (second tag list in the comments!)

a/n: finally reviving this, no idea why i even stop posting it 😭

[otakween]

Digimon Tamers - Episode 40

Woohoo! 40 episodes :D I feel accomplished

This episode was mostly upbeat with some ooky-spooky stuff thrown in there for good measure. This show has a lot of tonal whiplash. I truly have no idea where they're going with this plot, so that's exciting. Compared to Adventure and 02, this is definitely the most unpredictable season. (Well, I know it'll have a happily ever after because its a kid's show lol).

Notes:

Beelzebumon gets zapped by a buncha digimon until he de-digivolves. I interpreted that as him getting attacked on purpose? Maybe? All the bug-like digimon swarming him creeped me out.

Culumon's ultimate (hehe) purpose was to perform "shining evolution" which insta-digivolves all the digimon to ultimate (at least those that have an ultimate form lol). I guess it also just calls out to digimon that are already ultimate too since Jijimon and Babamon show up. (Wait, why didn't it affect the main digimon? Ah well)

I kind of thought the Gods would have wanted to keep Culumon around permanently, but I guess they only needed them to help fight the D-reaper? I thought Culumon had more of an everyday purpose with digivolution...

Kenta's future partner shows up and just loves him instantly for no apparent reason lol. I guess it's just like when a stray cat chooses you. MarineAngemon is a lot tinier than I expected based on the videogames...

It's hard for me to comment on what's going on with Juri because I have no idea. At first it seems like her puppet is possessed and then she goes behind a rock and becomes possessed herself? Is she being controlled by some nefarious digimon? The true big bad? Guess I'll find out! (The puppet suddenly talking on its own was effectively creepy).

Hirokazu assuming Juri was hiding to use the bathroom made me wonder...do the kids feel the urge to go to the bathroom ever? Does it go by the same, weird ~belief~ logic as hunger? If he made that assumption, they must have been going to the bathroom this whole time I guess (somehow lol).

It was kinda cool seeing a bunch of ultimate digimon gather for good (as opposed to an evil army). Hirokazu geeking out over them was a nice touch.

They played the dial up sound! The nostalgiaaaa

Their plan to request help from randos around the world via email would never work nowadays haha. Straight to spam.

The Gods being like "we got this, you can go home now" felt kinda like a unique plot beat for Digimon. Usually the kids and their digimon are the only ones who can save the day, but I guess they don't go by "chosen children" in Tamers. Of course, they'll probably still need to stay and fight...something.

[kandidandi]

People always ask why I enjoy artists who draw horror and gore so much.

And that's because I know what to expect. It's always gonna be something spooky ooky or whatever. It's what they specialize in after all. And if they ever do surprise me it's by drawing something nice and cute for once which is great

It's artists like you that I'm scared of. You guys use the cute art style to fool me, to trick me. Make me go awww how cute and then drop all this angst and sadness on me that always leaves me baffled

Never see it coming

HAHAHFDGHFAGHD thank you this is a huge compliment muhaha

[thegainingdesk]

The Walk of the Goddess

0. The Fool

The Fool depicts a young man or woman, dressed in a floral tunic, standing, carefree, on the edge of a precipice, positioned as if to walk off. The figure holds a satchel on the end of a stick in their right hand, and a white rose in their left. A small white dog bays at their feet. The background shows mountains, or perhaps a rough sea.

The Fool represents the beginning of a journey, and limitless potential to learn, to change, to grow, to become. The Fool may step off the edge and fall, or perhaps they may fly.

Morgan laid five cards out in front of him, three side-by-side, one above, and one below.

"The Fool," Morgan said, pointing to the first card. "The Magician, The Ace of Cups, The Hanged Man, reversed, The World." He looked up at Rory and smiled. "All the signs are looking good."

"Yeah," Rory said, not looking up from his phone. "The weather's looking pretty good. I was worried about rain, but its saying it's going to be sunny now." He took a bite of his bacon and egg sandwich. "I don't trust a forecast that changes too much though, you'll still want to take a rain coat."

Morgan shook his head. "It won't rain. Not now," he said confidently. "But I didn't mean that. I meant the portents, the omens. I think today's the day for the walk."

Rory looked up, his eyes wide. "I'd bloody hope it is!" he said. "After driving all the way down to bloody Cornwall and paying ninety-five quid a night for this hotel!"

Morgan shrugged. "If the energies weren't aligned today there'd be no point completing the Walk of the Goddess." Rory could hear the way he capitalised the words, Morgan placing a gentle solemnity on each.

"Bloody hell. If I'd known that I'd have asked you to check your bloody cards before we booked it," Rory sighed, shaking his head. "So what's so special about this Goddess walk anyway then? There's about a hundred places on the coast we could have found the exact same walk, and about two hundred miles closer to Sheffield."

"The Walk of the Goddess," Morgan corrected, his eyes narrowing a little. He'd explained all this a few times, but Rory had never paid any real attention to Morgan's beliefs, seeing them more as a hobby or special interest. "It's a ritual pilgrimage, recreating the journey of the High Goddess with her acolyte and lover from where she first stepped on these shores, to the peak where she looked out onto the landscape and claimed the land as her own."

Rory was checking the inside of his bag. "That's nice. So that's around here then?"

Morgan sighed. "That's around here, yes."

Rory drained his coffee. "And I don't need to do any of the ooky spooky stuff, yeah? I'm happy to carry the bag and be in charge of you not getting lost in the harsh wildernesses of a Cornish public footpath, but I'm not in for all that."

"The ritual needs you to be present, but that's the extent of it," Morgan comforted him. "It really follows the Goddess, but as she traveled with her lover, it can't be completed alone."

"Yeah, and this 'lover' stuff, listen-" Rory started.

"Don't worry," Morgan interrupted. "I know I'm far too skinny for your tastes," he teased. Rory knew Morgan's joking was all in good faith - Morgan was straight, and Rory had confessed a couple of years ago that he much preferred his men on the larger side, and he liked to tease him about it at any opportunity.

"Good," Rory said. "I'm happy to go on a hike, but that's it, no funny business. Right!" He slapped his knees and stood up. "I reckon it's about time to go, if that's alright with you and your cards? Got any crystals you want to ask first?"

Morgan rolled his eyes. "I'm okay for crystals. I might ask a tree on the way though." Rory wasn't sure how serious he was being. Morgan stood as well, and the two made their way outside.

"So the beach you wanted to start is about a half hour walk down this way," Rory said, pointing and making his way. "This bit will all be downhill, but you're alright that the rest of it will be uphill, yeah?"

Morgan nodded. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine as long as you're alright for me to set the pace?" He'd asked Rory here as one of his more outdoorsy friends, so appreciated his concern that he might not keep up.

"Yeah, sure," Rory said. "Its not too strenuous of a walk anyway, and it'll be easier since you don't have a pack."

Morgan smiled. "Thanks for that, by the way. It's part of the ritual. Anything I hold on the Walk would by default become part of the ritual, and it would get elevated to the status of sygil or icon. It would be idolatry against the Goddess."

"Yeah, don't worry about it mate," Rory said, looping his thumbs through the loops on his bag's straps. "Happy to sherpa for you while you do all your witchy shit."

I. The Magician

The Magician depicts a haloed figure in robes in front of a workbench covered with a variety of esoteric obscura. In the raised right hand, the figure holds a wand; the left hand points towards the ground.

The Magician represents the taking of action, and agency. The Magician sees the fates meted out by other cards and takes hold of them, channeling them to their own ends.

Morgan and Rory walked quietly for a while, the wind blowing inland towards them growing saltier with each step. The spring sun dappled through the trees, making it warm but not uncomfortably so. Eventually the two reached a series of narrow steps down into a cove, low cliffs running around its edge. They made their way down carefully, with Rory leading the way and their feet only just fitting onto the narrow steps.

"Right," Rory said at the bottom, "this is it. You know where we're going from here, right?"

Morgan nodded and pointed along the coast to the east. "We'll be following a river just down there. Do you see there's a gap in the cliff? It's basically just going along the banks of the river until we end up at the peak of the mountain."

"It's a fairly big hill," Rory corrected. "It's really not a mountain."

Morgan shrugged. "If you like. I've got to do some preparations, should only be five minutes or so." He made his way to the river he'd pointed out.

"Right, fair enough," said Rory following him. When they reached the mouth of the river, where it met the sea, he settled down on a rock a short distance from Morgan.

Morgan took his shirt and shoes off, and his hands moved towards his belt. "Woah!" Rory shouted once he'd noticed what he was doing. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"My preparations," Morgan said simply, not stopping in his stripping. "I need to bathe in the sea and I need to be completely naked for the whole walk. Anything I wear will be raised to the status of ceremonial garb and will be considered-"

"Idolatry against the Goddess," Rory finished for him. He sighed. "Right, fine, fine, whatever." He rubbed his face with one hand. "But if you get arrested, I'm not going down with you, alright?"

Morgan laughed. "Don't worry. Everyone else I've spoken to that's done the walk has said they've never seen anyone. It's nice and secluded."

Rory rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sure we won't see anyone on our scenic walk through Cornwall on a public footpath in the middle of spring if your fucking magic friends say so."

Morgan didn't hear, or pretended not to, and now stood fully naked, unembarrassed to be so exposed in front of Rory. Over the years they'd both seen each other naked countless times before, in changing rooms or on holidays, but Rory was surprised how unbothered Morgan was nonetheless. Morgan was agonizingly thin, with ribs showing clearly beneath a thin smattering of body hair, the complete opposite of Rory's type.

Morgan turned to Rory, who tried his best to not look down at his penis. "I'm going to go in the sea now, which is the start of the ritual, and then we'll set off," he told Rory. "Once we start, we can't stop, we can't turn around, and I'm not going to talk to you. This is it. Are you ready?"

Rory stood and nodded. Even if he was a little put off by Morgan's sudden naturism, he understood that this was important to the thinner man, and was here to support him.

Morgan strode purposefully into the sea, gasping loudly at the cold, but continuing on. He didn't stop until the water came up to his navel, when he bent down and submerged himself fully, long enough that Rory began to worry and stood to make his way towards him, but just as he reached the water's edge, Morgan broke back through the surface in a spray of salt water, gasping as he did so.

"Mother Goddess!" he called out, teeth chattering from the cold. "I come to the place of your ascension, and your rebirth! I walk in your footsteps, I follow your path, I give myself to you as supplication. With me walks an acolyte, who shall walk beside me and whose journey shall mirror my own. We give ourselves to you, blood and heart and flesh, memory and sould and mind, for you to mould as you wish!"

With that, he began to wade back towards the shore, still gasping. As he reached the land, he grabbed Rory by the arm for support, but did not stop walking forward.

"Fucking hell!" Rory cried. "What the fuck was that about? You could have mentioned you'd be bloody drowning yourself! And what was that about my blood and soul getting moulded by your Goddess?"

Morgan just stared back, not saying anything. He walked forwards, across the beach, towards the tree line. Rory sighed, hoisted the bag onto his back, and followed. It had begun.

Ace of Cups

Ace of Cups depicts a hand holding a chalice of gold, or perhaps bronze. Water is being poured into the chalice while it overflows. A dove flies above the chalice, holding an olive branch.

Ace of Cups, as the entire suit of Cups does, represents bounty and wealth, both literal and metaphysical. Ace of Cups shows this in its purest form, showing abundance, excess and generosity. In many ways the interpretation of this card is simple - the cup runneth over.

Aside from the utter weirdness at the beach, and having to try and avoid looking too much at Morgan's pale, skinny arse, Rory was quite enjoying the walk. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, but the air was crisp and cool. The scenery was stunning, passing through a seemingly ancient forest and following a crystal clear river.

Every so often, Morgan would pause to touch a tree or a rock, or dip his hand into the water, before moving on, but otherwise was silently striding forward at a fair pace. Rory was content to follow along at Morgan's pace, stopping and starting along with the naked man ahead. Occasionally Rory would open his mouth to say something, or point out a particularly nice view or bird, but remembered his companion's momentary vow of silence, and simply made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

Rory tugged down his shirt. As the walk continued, he found that it kept on coming untucked from his waistline. When he'd put it on that morning, it had seemed a perfect fit, but perhaps he'd washed it on too high a temperature. He hitched his trousers slightly, as he noticed a chill breeze across the top of his bum.

Rory didn't think anything of it, and continued on, occasionally fidgeting with his suddenly ill-fitting clothes. He stopped to watch a large crow, or perhaps even a raven, hop across the path. It tilted its head at Morgan, who smiled, and knelt down to it. The bird stretched up until its beak was nestled in the hair by Morgan's ear, almost lost against the thick black hair there and if Rory didn't know better, it almost looked as if it were telling his friend something. After some time, Morgan straightened up and turned back to give a small smile at Rory, and walked forward once more.

As the raven flew off into the trees, Rory continued on, before stopping. The straps of his bag were suddenly cutting in around his chest and stomach. This was odd - Rory was usually so fastidious about making sure his pack was comfortable, knowing how much of a difference it could make to a hike. He looked down at himself as he adjusted the straps to make more room. He did seem to be filling out his shirt more than usual. Clearly his recent endeavours at the gym, and perhaps at the dinner table, were starting to pay off, as he became aware of a slight pinch of fabric around his shoulders as well.

He walked on with a touch of swagger in his step - while in general he'd always taken on more of an admiring role in his enjoyment of a fuller figure, he wasn't adverse to putting on a little weight himself, and if that came with some muscle, all the better. Still, he was surprised he'd not noticed - he'd been going to the gym more yes, eating more maybe, but was it really enough to have caused such a noticeable change? Perhaps the changes had just come so gradually he'd not paid them any attention.

Rory knew he was handsome, if only in a slightly awkward way. A square face framed a large nose and dark brown eyes, deep in his face. Never particularly atheltic, he looked after himself, and, until now, maintained a trim body with a touch more muscle than might be considered average. Dark, scruffy stubble and chest hair perpetually pouring out the top of whatever shirt he wore ensured he always had some admirer or other willing to go home with him.

Suddenly cognisant of the changes to his body, Rory felt hyper-focussed on all the strange sensations of his body. His trousers seemed to be growing more uncomfortable as he walked, not just at his waist where they pinched in at a sudden thickness, but around his thighs as well. He tried to look around to check, but his arse seemed to be coming along for the ride, his trousers riding down cheeks that were clearly bigger than when he'd bought these trousers - but, he thought to himself, surely that wasn't that long ago? Why hadn't he registered in the fitting rooms that these were clearly not the right size for him?

He'd given up on pulling his shirt down to tuck it in, accepting that his newfound pudge and the motion of the walk would just pull it out again. He stroked the underside of his new, small paunch appreciatively, fingers tracing the soft hair there. How had he, of all people, not noticed that it was now large enough to bow out, clearly visible through his shirt, now that he'd noticed it? Surely one of his friends or recent conquests would have commented, knowing his predilection for the larger man? And it wasn't a simple bloat, this was soft, creamy fat, clearly having had a while to develop and form, as he even noticed how it jiggled and shook slightly with each step.

It wasn't simply fat though, oh no, Rory realised. His chest puffed up round and proud, filling his shirt and pulling the top few buttons taut. He flexed his pecs and was delighted to see them visibly bounce - something he'd thought only real gym addicts could achieve. He'd not really been meaning to bulk, but he'd take what he could get. He half-jokingly flexed his arms for himself, and was astonished at the bulge that swelled underneath the short-sleeves of his shirt, the hem actually cutting in to the mound that rose up. While there was a thin layer of fat there, there was real, firm muscle as well. He could almost hear the fabric creak to contain him.

Rory laughed quietly at his own obliviousness. Had he really not noticed such a significant change to his own body? He thought back, trying to convince himself that he'd taken notice of them before, maybe in the mirror of a changing room, or in the way his clothes had fit, and that maybe it was all just heightened now with the exertion of the walk. He couldn't quite convince himself though. He'd spent his entire adult life chasing men with a few extra pounds, and now he'd achieved a body he'd go crazy for without so much as a glance at himself?

He shook his head. He'd in all likelihood put on twenty pounds, no more, probably just winter weight he'd not quite shed yet, that's all. He'd get back to the hotel, look in the mirror, and see a small layer of fat and the slightest muscle tone that wouldn't get a second look in a gay bar. The newness of it all and the exertion of the walk were just exaggerating it in his mind.

Morgan had stopped to pick up a flat rock, no larger than a pebble, held it up to each of his eyes in turn and thoughtfully placed it back exactly where he'd found it. Rory was grateful for the chance to stop. The path must have been steeper than it looked, because he was hot and sweating already. He dug a water bottle out from his bag, squeezing it past the large, soft pack that Morgan had asked him to stash away, and drank thirstily. Panting slightly, he offered it to Morgan, who declined with a small motion of his hand.

Rory was impressed - the thinner man barely looked exerted at all, but then, he didn't have any clothes to keep him warm. Rory saw Morgan's eyes flick up and down his body, before he turned and walked on ahead. Rory self-consciously tugged at his ill-fitting shirt, which somehow seemed to be even tighter now. Why had Morgan not said anything? He looked ridiculous, like a sausage stuffed into a too-small casing. Rory realised there were even gaps between each button! How had he even got the shirt on this morning, never mind not noticed how it fit?

He packed the water bottle away, slung the bag across his back, and resolved to ignore the confining fit of his clothes and his sudden realisation of weight gain.

He stubbornly tried to think of anything else as his gut shook with each step. Would that milk he had in the fridge be okay when he got back? Shake. He really needed to remember to wash his bed sheets. Wobble. And call his mum, when was the last time he'd rang her, wasn't her birthday coming up, must get her a present. Bounce. And his TV license needed renewing didn't it? Must remember to get that sorted. Jiggle.

As the first button fired off of his shirt, Rory couldn't ignore what was happening any longer. Something very odd was going on. As he heard the tear of stitches along his bulging shoulders and biceps, his cock throbbed in restricting trousers.

XII. The Hanged Man

The Hanged Man displays a figure being suspended upside down by a single ankle on a wooden beam. The figure's hands are tied behind their back, and their face is resolved and at peace. Around their head is a glowing halo or nimbus.

The Hanged Man may obviously represent sacrifice, tribulation, or martyrdom; a lamb being offered to some unknown deity. However, the figure's expression and glowing halo suggests a deeper meaning; enlightenment, wisdom, divinity. The Hanged Man may struggle against the gallows, or embrace them.

"Morgan!" Rory called, jogging ahead and trying in vain to pull the two sides of his shirt together. "Morgan, something's happening to me, something weird."

Morgan didn't turn round or slow at all. Rory tried to ignore the shaking of his body as he hurried after him. He heard further ripping, and felt a coolness on his thighs as cool air hit them. Looking down he saw buttons straining against soft, hairy flesh pulling against them. As he looked another button pinged off, and his gut shook as it expanded into its new freedom.

"Morgan, stop! Morgan, look at me, something's wrong, I-" He reached out and grabbed Morgan's shoulder. As Morgan spun round, Rory almost took a step back. He let go of his shoulder immediately. Morgan's eyes were wide and angry, his nostrils flaring. Rory saw Morgan's eyes fixed on his hand, still outstretched. He let it fall to his side, and Morgan's expression softened a little.

"Morgan, I know this is important to you, but something really fucked up is happening, look at me," Rory implored. He could feel the stitching on his sleeves pulling apart, as his muscles fought against fabric. Morgan didn't reply, instead merely looking into Rory's eyes.

"Look, I get it, walk of the Goddess, magic ritual, no speaking, no touching, communing with nature, but I thought this was some kumbaya, healing crystals, meditating and connecting to the wonder of Gaia bullshit." Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he still didn't react. "But I get that this is real and I promise to never make fun of you and your witchy friends again but something is happening to me Morg." Rory gestured down at himself, somewhat needlessly. Morgan's eyes didn't leave Rory's. "We need to turn back." Morgan was still for a moment, before turning back, and continuing up the path.

Rory walked a few more paces, doing his best to keep up, but between his growing body and the tightness of his clothes, he struggled. Another button fired off into the forest, this time from his growing chest. The feeling of construction around his waist grew unbearable, and he struggled to undo his belt and trouser button, needing to suck his gut in to make any progress, but even this left his waistband far too tight to move the button. He stumbled on a little, his belt open but his trousers closed - after a few steps, the unyielding button gave up, the thread snapping and the button falling amongst some pebbles. Rory sighed in relief as his ball belly and fat pad pushed the zip down. He laughed to himself at the thought - his ball belly and fat pad as if he wasn't as trim as ever that very morning. Words he'd so erotically used to describe one-night stands and crushes, he was using to casually describe himself, and all it took was a gentle country-side stroll.

Rory continued to laugh despite himself, unable to stop. He laughed at the feeling of fat shaking, at the way his flesh bulged out between tears and hems of once perfectly fitting clothes, at his broad shoulders hunching over against fabric and too narrow bag straps, and at the ridiculousness that this was really, actually happening. Morgan had stopped at a ridge and looked down at Rory passively, seemingly unconcerned with the breakdown happening just 30 feet away. Rory walked heavily forward, making no effort to rush now, laughing breathlessly.

A few steps from Morgan, Rory felt the entire back of his shirt tear to shreds. Despite the sudden release of tension, the single remaining button on his shirt still strained against a wall of fat and muscle and hair, bisecting a heaving chest from a firm, round gut, just starting to encroach downwards over the folded waistband of his underwear. Rory's trouser legs had continued to split down the sides, and now thick muscle squeezed out of a gaping tear all the way down to the hems, which still held on, although Rory realised that even his ankles seemed to be growing.

"Please Morgan. Please." He collapsed down in front of him, and the sound of tearing that ensued elicited one final bout of hysterical laughter. "Please Morgan," Rory continued to beg. "I know this is important to you but, but… you said I wouldn't be a part of this, you said." Rory looked up at Morgan, whose face was unmoved. "We've got to turn back." Still, no reaction. "Fine, if, if you don't come back, then I'll go." Rory struggled to stand, unused to new contours of his body. "I will, I swear." Morgan made no move to walk in either direction. "Morgan, I'm not bullshitting you, I'll turn back right now and you can do you little goddess stroll without your acolyte."

Morgan's face was stony and unmoving, but Rory could read it perfectly. Go on then, it said. Try it. Rory did try. He willed his body to turn around, his legs to step back. He gritted his teeth with effort to try and move himself away from Morgan and the path ahead. He even tried to launch himself backwards, tried to allow himself to fall onto the slope below him, closed his eyes and spun round before attempting a step, anything to break this spell that had him rooted to the ground.

Morgan smiled slightly, turned, and walked up the hill. Rory stood for a while longer, willing himself away. Less than a minute later, he resigned himself, and took a single, easy step forwards. Rory thought that he could see Morgan's self-satisfied grin even through the back of his head.

"Fine! Fine! You win!" he called up to Morgan's naked, thin back. "But at least stop for a minute yeah? Let me get these fucking clothes off." Morgan didn't turn around, but stopped. "Fuck me," Rory muttered to himself. He threw the pack down next to him, the straps struggling to get past his newly square shoulders, even as he extended the straps to their furthest extent. He realised quickly that removing his clothes in the normal way was impossible, as the fabric simply didn't have anymore stretch to allow him to manipulate it around his hulking body. Recognising that his clothes were already in tatters and were of no use to him anymore anyway, he opted instead to simply tear them off. Even through his confusion and shock at what was happening, he thrilled at his developing strength, easily ripping through the fabric like it was paper.

Naked, he looked down at himself. While he was undeniably fat, his firm muscles couldn't be completely hidden, and he was developing the look of an overfed powerlifter. He flexed, marvelling at his python-like arms, bigger around than many men's thighs, while his thighs were surely bigger than his waist used to be. His cock hardened, unseen below a great cauldron of a gut, as he examined his new body. Despite himself and the bizarre situation he was in, he found himself loving this. Wasn't this the kind of body he'd always idolised? He realised he was even bigger than more than a few of the men he'd slept with over the years, and that he'd be the one to be idolised now.

He realised, as he undressed, that he'd stopped growing for the moment. He turned back to look down the path and thought back to what Morgan had said earlier - it was the act of walking that was the catalyst for this change, not simply being in the woods. He looked up, past Morgan, to where the trees thinned slightly. He could see the path continue to rise and rise, with no end in sight, and remembered from looking at the map earlier that there were barely halfway along the trail. How much bigger would be get? He slung his bag back over one shoulder, took a deep breath, and took a step forward, up the path, towards whatever may come.

A while later, he realised that he could almost feel his growth with each step. There was a tension deep in his flesh, a tingling over his skin, that faded whenever he stopped, which was growing more frequently as his bulk required him to stop to catch his breath more and more - even with the increased strength from his expanding muscles, there was no getting away from the fact that with each step he was carrying more and more weight, and it was clear that more fat was being added than muscle.

Rory tried, on the whole, to not spend too long examining his body, choosing instead to push his way forwards and not think too much about the implications of what was happening to him. Nonetheless, he couldn't ignore the way that his gut rounded further and further out, firm and shapely yet soft and pliable to the touch. While the powerful muscles at his core were still evident in the way his body-shape formed in a series of heavy spheres, suspended by the muscle beneath, they were no longer visible, continually being further buried in a now thick layer of fat.

Rory's cock had been hard for quite some time now. If he'd met a man with this body, hell, if he'd achieved this body himself in any normal timeframe, he'd have been over the moon, absolutely beside himself with arousal. As it was, that arousal was tinged with fear and confusion. What was Morgan doing? What would happen at the end of the walk? When he had to go back to his regular life? Hell, how would he even get back to the hotel, for that matter? Rory looked up at Morgan's indifferent back. If he ever got back to the hotel and his regular life, some quiet part of his brain said.

Rory reached under his heavy gut, and lifted it slightly. With his other hand, he reached between his legs, searching for his cock, leaking with precum, seeking to rearrange himself and free his equipment from the prison of his tree-trunk like thighs. He realised ruefully that despite his expansion, his penis had stayed the same size. While he'd certainly never had any complaints in that department before, he was concerned at the way he could feel the way the fat at his groin subsume his length, even while fully erect, making his cock feel short and stubby. He wondered what it looked like - his penis had always been rather thick, and now it must be positively disproportionate. Rory managed to push his privates forwards, still a little uncomfortable between mammoth thighs, but at least no longer pinned between their unstoppable growth.

He closed his eyes and walked forwards, trying to distract himself, singing songs, listing types of birds and trees, remembering world capitals in alphabetical order, anything to distract from the delicious, impossible feeling of his flesh expanding, stretching, moving against itself as he walked.

Eventually, huffing and puffing, sweat dripping from his forehead and running in rivers down plump tits, and through canyons and valleys of flesh, Rory looked up as he realised he'd just stepped into sunlight. He saw Morgan stood in a spring at the top of the hill, arms outstretched. He turned around to face Rory.

"What the actual fuck Morgan?"

XXI. The World

The World depicts a naked feminine figure, often identified as Hermaphrodites from Greek mythology, draped in a long cloth, breasts displayed proudly. The figure holds a white wand in each hand, and is surrounded by a wide, circular wreath. In each corner respectively, there is represented the heads of a young man or woman, an eagle, an ox, and a lion.

As the final card in the major arcana of the tarot, The World represents the end of a journey, both literal and spiritual. Once disparate and conflicting natures are unified and balanced. Masculine and feminine energies are both represented in The World, both in harmony and distinctly. In a reading, The World represents one's most true desire.

Long black hair framed Morgan's slender face, ending just above small, pert breasts. Further down, Morgan's penis was conspicuous in its absence, legs instead framing a dark triangle of public hair.

"Morgan, I-" Rory started.

"It's Morgana now," she said, shaking her head gently. Her voice was softer now, and higher.

"Oh fuck off," Rory said. "Morgan the warlock turns into Morgana the witch in an ancient magic ritual in Cornwall? Bit on the nose isn't it?"

Morgana shrugged. "I didn't decide to get into ancient transgender magic for the subtlety of it all."

"So the point of the Walk of the Goddess…" Rory could hear himself capitalise the words himself now.

"Is to turn someone into a woman, yes, just as the Goddess transformed millennia ago" Morgan walked forwards, out of the spring. "For a price."

"The price being…" Rory gestured down at his newly massive stature.

"The bodily transfiguration of another, yes. There's a towel in that pack I gave you, would you grab it?"

Rory complied, pulling the bag off and rooting around in it, until he found the pack. Opening it for the first time, he found it contained several large pieces of fabric. He passed a towel over. "How long have you known?" he asked.

"That I was trans? Oh, forever, really. I've always been Morgana, this was just about getting my body to show what I knew inside." Morgana's face was a bright smile, and she moved slowly, as if exploring her body anew.

Rory strained to stand. "You know, I'm pretty sure there's other ways of transitioning these days."

"On the NHS? You must be joking, I'd be on a waiting list until I was 40. And there's forms to fill in, and I'd have to get my name changed and come out to everyone and-" She ran her fingers through her hair. "No, this was so much easier."

"Sorry, this was the easier option?" Rory asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I knew it would work, after Natasha did it, so-"

"What? Natasha's not trans," Rory interrupted.

Morgana looked over at him, from underneath her towel as she dried her hair. "Yes she is, she used to be Josh," she said simply.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'd know, we went to school with her," Rory protested.

"That's part of it. Makes everyone remember you differently. Doesn't change anything, just sort of makes people not think about it too hard." Morgana looked at Rory's confused face. "Okay, so, in school, you did PE with Natasha right?"

"I mean, yeah, that's how we met, we were on the same footie team," Rory said.

"A football team for…" Morgana prompted.

"Under-14s…" Rory said, not getting at what Morgana meant. She made a motion with her hand, indicating Rory should continue the train of thought. Rory's eyes went wide with realisation. "Under-14 boys. Fucking hell, how does that work?"

Morgana shrugged. "Like I said, doesn't change any events, just makes you not think about it too hard."

"So people won't be shocked that I'm…" Rory shook his gut. Morgana shook her hair and continued drying herself. "So who did Natasha make fat?"

"She brought Ollie along."

"Her brother? What? Ollie's tiny."

Morgana sighed impatiently. "It's different for everyone, Ollie got cured of cancer," she said, like she was explaining something blindingly obvious to a particularly annoying child.

"Ollie never had cancer," Rory pointed out.

"Terminal thyroid cancer. Four months to live. Natasha invited him along, bam, no more cancer, hair all grown back, everyone's very confused about why they'd been visiting him at the hospital so much." Morgana smiled. "It's two spells working in tandem. One spell slowly transforms the acolyte's body into their heart's desire, that transformation gets reflected at the person acting as the Goddess, and it all sort of stores up and zaps all at once."

Rory stared down at his body, finally starting to get over the shock of all that had happened. "So you're saying that I grew this fat because I wanted to be this fat?"

"Basically," Morgana said. "I'd sort of guessed, to be honest, you always a sort of wistful, unfulfilled look in your eyes whenever you talked about fucking a fatty. I figured that I needed someone who's heart's desire was a physical transformation of their own body, and you wanted to get fat. Win-win really."

Rory looked down at himself properly for the first time since he'd entered the clearing, and attempted to take his whole body in. He was enormous - if he saw someone with a gut his size, he'd say they were 350 pounds easy, maybe even 400, but he had no idea how much weight his muscles might add. Fifty pounds? A hundred? Even having been obsessed with fat men all his life, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen a man so large, not in person anyway, and couldn't guess at a weight. He must outweigh most powerlifters now, but who knew by how much?

He let his hands paw at his body. He lifted his plump pecs, soft and round and pert, and let them fall, a sharp slap ringing out as they collided with the top of his gut. His belly was a masterpiece - one of the largest he'd seen, but it somehow defied gravity to hang, suspended in front of him. His hands could push into it, moulding the fat with thick fingers, but it couldn't be shifted, a firm core keeping it stationary. His hands followed it's curve around the tyre of fat to his broad back, before they stopped, unable to explore any more of his body, his own size resisting his movements.

His limbs were huge. Thick fat formed his arms and legs into mighty pillars, and creased with each motion, and while the muscle underneath might never be visible, it mounded up even through layers of flab to push his biceps and thighs into great balls of muscle and beef. His hands roamed upwards to his neck, which felt wider than his head, and shortened by encroaching delts. His face felt round, and wide, and soft. His cheeks were large enough to cup in his hands, and he could feel a double chin compressing and changing shape each time he spoke or turned his head. He longed to see a mirror.

"I packed some clothes for you," Morgana said, as she pulled a black dress over head. She smoothed it down and gave a small twirl, her face practically glowing. "Over there, in the pack. I sort of had to guess how big you might end up." Her eyes moved up and down Rory's body. "To be honest, I'm not sure I quite appreciated just how big you'd want to get."

Rory nodded and moved over to pile of clothes. He held them up. They looked like tents, absolutely obscene sizes, surely not meant to be worn by real people. Holding them up to his body, he realised they would probably be too small.

He started with the t-shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He tugged it down, not quite covering his belly button, and straining around his arms. It rode up as he bent down to pick up the trousers.

He was relieved that the 54 inch waist was elasticated. He had to sit down on the ground to pull them on, his new size meaning he couldn't balance on a single leg for long enough to get it into the trouser legs. He pulled them up as high as they would go, stretching them over thighs like rhinos', and tried to determine if his privates were at least covered.

"Am I decent?" he called over to Morgana, who was running her hands up and down as she explored her new body.

"Not at all," she replied immediately. "I can't see your cock though. Pubes out the top and about half your arse crack is showing, but that's the best we can do for now I suppose."

"Right. Yeah, right." The realities of the situation were starting to set into Rory. Where would even sell clothes his size now?

"Come on then," Morgana said, heading back the way they'd come.

"That's it?" Rory asked.

"That's it."

"And it won't… reverse or anything? While we walk down?"

Morgana spun round and smiled at him. "Would you want it to, big guy?"

Rory looked down at himself, the enormous clothes that barely fit, the gut that stuck several feet in front of him, the frame that would stop him comfortably sitting in any seat again. He thought about having to replace his entire wardrobe, and probably more than a few pieces of furniture. He wondered if he'd need to move, to comfortably fit into his own shower. He thought about the looks of shock and horror he'd receive from now on.

He smiled at Morgana. "I'm quite hungry actually." He scratched the side of his gut.

Morgana grinned back and practically skipped into the forest, back down the path. Rory lumbered after her.

[eonars]

got gummy high drew some nice nasturtiums and something a bit ooky spooky in the sketchbook by phone flashlight managed to pick my way through two sentences of faroese that popped up on facebook feeling well big brained this night

[mochixkisses]

😨

😈

😍

I’m most interested in knowing these 3

Hope you have a nice evening Mochi :)

hi, honey!!

😨 what is your worst fear?

i feel like my worst fear is between the ocean (bc i can't swim and it's spooky ooky in there) or losing everyone i love especially if i have a huge attachment to them.

😈 what’s the worst thing you’ve done that you feel like you should regret, but absolutely don’t?

this one's really hard for me to answer bc i genuinely don't know. like i sat for a while to think about this and i couldn't really think of anything. i'm sorry 😭 i'm sure you expected more, but i don't know. i don't regret anything i've done, really, bc a lot of things that maybe could be seen as "bad" were really me just taking care of myself and my mental health.

😍 what’s your type?

mmm it really depends on who it is. i'm kind of mixed with physical traits, so i won't go into those.

for personality, i really just look for someone who can make me laugh, is kind, clingy (but it depends on who bc i don't like clingy all the time), gentle, assertive usually, understanding/patient, communicates well. someone who can call me out on things (nicely!!) and work on growing together. i like people who are into gaming or reading so we can do cozy little activities together. definitely someone who watches at least a little bit of anime and someone who's an ambivert, but more on the introvert side so we can skip out on events together. also someone who's a foody :D

i hope i answered those okay sksk

[lilorainn]

Hello friends!! Im WORM 🪱 (she/her) and thank you so much for being here with me! I’m a concept artist that focuses on the ookie! AND spooky! (Along with the occasional muppet or clown). I’m currently available for work and I work with a lot of different mediums! I build haunted houses, storyboard, and make concept art!! I felt as if introductions must be given again as I’ve completely given ALL my platforms new makeovers, and some of you may be confused when looking for me (don’t worry I’m still here! Just more wiggly!!). Thank you for visiting me and my thoughts! Please come again soon friend! 💕💚🪱 :+)

📣🪱You!! LOOK OVER HERE!! You can find me on these as well! 🖍️

INSTAGRAM🪱 (@lilorain_) ⬆️

TWITTER🪱

TIKTOK🪱

[finniestoncrane]

Hey Finnie!! I've been a little nervous and hesitant to do this bc I always scream a little when you reply to my asks but I wanted to be a part of your 1k celebration too!! I'm super curious which rogue you'd pair me with, even if you already know my preference for Riddler, haha

I'm English (I hope you can forgive me), 5'0 and quite chubby. I almost always dye my hair, either hot pink or icy blonde usually, and have a mix of a punk and goth clothing style. When it comes to.music, I listen to a mix of things, but I especially like jumping between Doja Cat, Elton John, Green Day and Slipknot. As you know, I really enjoy drawing and painting and creating in any way I can.

As for hobbies, I really enjoy playing story-based and puzzle solving video games over FPS games, however I love combat in games. I'm also a bit of a horror fanatic, primarily I love horror painters but also greatly enjoy horror video games and movies. Because of this I quite enjoy reading about the occult and pagan beliefs or traditions, especially about mythical creatures or local folklore.

Something I love the most and will drop almost anything to do is listen to my friends and partner talk about their special interests. I'm much more of a listener than a talker, if I can help it, and I love seeing other be passionate and excited. I love to cook for my friends and I'd like to think I'm a rather decent cook. I worry that I've already written too much so I'll stop there!!

Congrats on 1k Finnie!! You deserve it so fucking much and I'm super excited to see even more love for your fics in the future!! 💕

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: thank you!! ;-; 💚 yeah i was picking a riddler, because you've got riddler vibes! but the riddler i picked is maybe unexpected... 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

(i forgive you, truly lmao) ok so body wise, being thick is a plus for him 100%, and same with the fun hair. he's not boring, he might look it, but someone colourful and bright on his side would help other people realise that he's fun too

also look at him and tell me he isn't suppressing his true goth side, pasty ass

he probably doesn't have a favourite genre of music, he'd be happy to listen to anything, as long as it wasn't too loud or distracting, but hey, anything can be good background music at the right volume, so you could probably introduce him to new bands

ok the egomaniac in him would be so 100% down to be your ~muse~ and pose for your drawings, like life modelling, nude or otherwise, his body looks great either way and he'd be so supportive of you making him look even better in your art

puzzle solving games would be his favourite thing to do with you i bet! maybe other games too, just to spend time with you, but allowing himself to do what he loves, riddles and puzzles, in a sort of relaxing and fun manner would be so good for him

he looks like the kind of boring guy who would be very secretly into the occult and pagan practices. and you could teach him everything you know, because his riddles would be a lot more effective in striking fear in the idiots around him if they could mistake them for ooky-spooky satanic doom mongering

dropping everything to listen to him? that's the key here. he's pretty needy and self-involved, but he'd try and not be so bad with you. but he'd definitely enjoy having someone forget everyone else in the world just to sit and listen to everything he had to say. he's a talker, a rambler actually, so a listener is perfect for him

and food would definitely be one of his love languages, especially receiving it! sitting down to a nice meal (i am just picturing that frame of him looking exceptionally delicious and pointing the fork) and being able to flirt over something delicious is his ideal date

[see-arcane]

In the most general sense, can you say if Barking Harker is a tragedy or if there’s some form of happy ending, even if it’s bittersweet? I love going into things blind for the most part, but I always want to know if I need to steal myself for an unhappy ending.

My sincere aim with any of my stories is to leave a reader feeling like a washcloth that has been wrung out, run over, put through a wood chipper, and set on fire. And after all that abuse, I try to make the ending so rich they will feel the ride was worth it.

Which is to say, it will not be an unhappy ending. There will be victories great and small. By the final page, it will certainly be worlds away from what our heroes foresaw for themselves, but I hope to show that isn't a bad thing.

The trouble is, they'll have to work for that ending in ways that will make Stoker's narrative seem like the cuddliest of prologues. I am not going to pull punches on these characters, much as I love them. Everyone is going to be ripped out of the relative safety net of Victorian era icky ooky spooky parameters for scary stories.

I Am Not Nice when I have my horror cap on.

But if you can weather the nightmare with them, you will be rewarded.

[arminsumi]

WAIT LMAO dont mind me but when i recently read ur comfort stsg fic i was like oke lemme check their blog and i didnt realize u were the same person who made that make out stsg fic HWHAHAHS i think its cuz u changed layouts (ans its SO NICE)

ANYWAYS i love what ive read from u so far 💞 hope u have a wonderful ooky spooky season and rest of the year

aaa thank u!! i saw ur reblog comments too they're so sweet I OFFER U HUGS BTW the Sleepyhead fic also makes me sad despite the happy ending lol

appreciate u sm for enjoying my stsg stuff :)

hope u enjoy ur time on my page!! 💗🐿️

[otakween]

Digimon Adventure 02 (Blind Watch) - Episode 17

Wait...I literally just remembered that the parents (plus a bunch of other people) saw all the digital world stuff by the final episode of season 1. What exactly is the IRL awareness of digimon?? The kids have to hide that they're going to the digital world from their parents, but maybe that's more because it's dangerous? Or was there some memory wipe thing I'm forgetting about. (This ramble triggered by a line in the dub where Matt says "Don't tell me Myotismon destroyed the studio again!?" to his dad...)

Anyway, putting my confusion aside, I really enjoyed this one. It had the good kind of callbacks instead of some cheap repeats. It was especially nice to see the S1 kids finally sit down with the new kids and tell their story. Probably should have done that already by now, but better late than never!

There was...no battle in this one?? Wild...

Notes:

-I think the movie director in the beginning of the episode had the same VA as Joe. Low key distracting.

-I liked the concept of not just a ghost being caught on camera, but a ghost that changes its movements every time you play the video back. Not sure I've seen that done before...

-Very heartwarming that they've turned Aug. 1st into a special day of remembrance amongst their friend group. I've seen fans making posts about the date before and maybe I'll start celebrating it too! (I'm an August baby so it feels extra special).

-Aside from Bakemon who doesn't count, I guess this is our first ghost digimon? Really unfair that Wizarmon didn't get to be reincarnated like everyone else :'( I wonder if we'll see him again?

-I sighed a small sigh of relief when we got hat!Mimi back. More importantly, her ridiculous pink/starry hair is gone! I hope this isn't just a temporary change. She looks really cute with pig tails

-Didn't really think about the difference between living with a single dad vs. a single mom until Takeru and Yamato had a discussion about it. Is every single mom in this series a homemaker...? (Nothing wrong with that, but it would be awkward if there wasn't at least one mom with a job).

-They censored the curry in the dub lol. American kids in the early 2000s didn't know what curry was I guess

-This episode featured a bunch of MD players to the point where it felt suspiciously like an ad. I had to google what an MD was and it's a mini-disc (like GameCube game sized). Of course, they just called it a "CD player" in the dub

-Dead at the dub line "Don't mind him dad, he's just not a happy little buffalo!" LOL (American kids also don't know what sutras are apparently)

-They addressed a question I had in my earlier post about how they were stuck using the computer lab to enter the digi-world. Koushiro finally figured out that they could connect from any computer and that the D3 device was more important. (Honestly, they should have thought of this sooner, but I guess everyone's busy with school lol).

-It felt kind of weird to me how Wizarmon was showing up on TV to get Tailmon's attention, but we never really see the kids watching TV or catching any of these appearances. They kinda just stumble across him instead because Tailmon's Wizarmon's senses start tingling. Oh well, all's well that ends well...

-Very rare episode where there's no battle and the digimon only evolve to their rookie forms. I feel like this shows that the writers trusted the kids enough to sit through an episode without all the usual stuff, so that's nice.

-I'm going to go ahead and qualify this as a Halloween episode because ooky spooky

-Wizarmon continues Gennai's tradition of giving super vague and unhelpful information. Thanks for nothing! (I guess he was mainly hinting that Ken is a victim of "the darkness." Okay, Kingdom Hearts...)

-Sad Tailmon tho ;-;

[dragoncityinteriordesign]

When Zhao Yunlan finally goes to investigate Lin Jing's potential treachery, he does so by comparing the empty bag that the syringe should have been in to the log sheet. Thanks to @bisouette's crackerjack language skills, I have some translations of the log sheet:

Column headings: (serial) number, evidence origin, evidence name, amount, case progress/situation, results, inspector

#095-097: Drunken Murder Case; sharp knife, fruit knife, long knife; case confirmed; Inspectors Wang Zuojun, Da Qing #317-[323]: Kong Jing case; syringe, drill, feather duster, steel saw, steel [something], rope, electric saw; case confirmed; Inspector Da Qing [...]: glove; case awaiting confirmation; Inspector Bai Jinyuan [...]; case confirmed; Inspector Zhu Hong [...]; case confirmed; Inspector Zhao Zhugang

And then the bag itself, with explanatory notes:

Case name: Kong Jing case Evidence name: syringe with needle Collection location: old street [something something] building Investigating unit: SID Collector [the one who found it]: Lin Jing Sealer [person who sealed the bag?]: Da Qing Deliver-er [person who passes it on]: Receiving analyst: Receiving analysis unit:

Well, that's all nice and -- wait a minute, who the hell are Wang Zuojun, Bai Jinyuan, and Zhao Zhugang?

And now we're at the reason I originally asked @bisouette to look at this for me. I've mentioned before that my grasp of Chinese is beyond shaky, but by this point in the process, I can reliably read the names of all the main characters -- and these are not the names of the main characters.

Obviously the numbering system is nonsequential, which means that Wang Zhojun might be an employee from any time in the past decade, as long as Da Qing's been around. However, two of them have been busy recently: This is from episode 27; the Kong Jing case (AKA the Great Personality Caper) was episode 25. That means that somewhere in the interim, in the midst of wrangling Da Ji, SID also logged in at least eight new pieces of evidence, only three of which correspond to a case managed by someone we know.

On a meta level, I figure these are probably the names of some of the people who worked on the show, and those trusting fools figured no one would ever care enough to look closely. Ha! I sure showed them.

But when it comes to in-universe explanations? Go wild.

Theory 1: SID takes in all the weird shit anyone finds in Dragon City. Wang Zuojun, Bai Jinyuan, and Zhao Zhugang are employees of some other division, who, in the course of doing their otherwise mundane jobs, came across ooky spooky objects. These objects were collected and delivered to SID HQ, with the names of the original investigators preserved for future reference.

Theory 2: Despite what we see in the show, we are expected to understand that SID is actually a much larger division. All those "new" employees we see at the end have been there all along. However, Zhao Yunlan has chosen not to notice them, and we, experiencing the world through his protagonist's perspective, have not either.

Theory 3: Zhao Yunlan has concocted an entire roster of fake employees in an attempt to keep the funding coming in, and needs to keep putting their names on things to justify it all to payroll.

The possibilities are endless! And that's even without scratching the surface of what a Drunken Murder Case would entail, why it would be supernatural enough to warrant SID involvement, how that specific knife trio was involved, and whether those knives are or are not now being used for cutting up little fish in Lao Li's kitchenette (it's okay, he washed them real good first).

[carusolikey]

Paddington 3: Lost in Mallorca, Part 1/5

Pairing: Javier Gutierrez x afab!fem!reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW 18+ (No Minors)

Summary: A sexy day in the life of Javi, his afab female partner, and their adorable little puppy. The fantasy is the reality - what would it be like to be Javi's one and only, to laugh and play, and get down with your bad selves (wink, wink - nudge, nudge)? You two feed into your love of movies, tv, and popular culture, as well as your ooky, kooky, spooky sides! This is fluffy and smutty, best of both worlds.

Warnings: A bit of rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m + f receiving]), food play, 18+ only content, able bodied fem afab reader, alcohol consumption, pet names, fem can be carried, consensual "bondage", some use of y/n - but not in all, though consensuality is implied and intended through actions and reactions, no protection used / committed relationship

Additional Warning: Author has a weird sense of humor.

Word Count: 12,500 + (Sorry?)

Part 2 Here

Masterlist Here

It had been a scorcher all day. Beautiful, absolutely gorgeous and sunny with perfect skies in Mallorca, but brutally hot with temperatures higher than they’d been all summer. 

After taking Paddington, our fluffy, little golden poodle mix, down to the beach to let loose off the leash - chasing birds, but meant to be chasing the frisbee we’d brought, Javi and I stopped by a little ice cream stand close to the house on our way back. Debating between traditional flavors like mint chocolate chip and something a bit more exciting, we settled on a pint of honey lavender ice cream and grabbed some puppy ice cream for Paddington, who excitedly yipped when he saw the wrapper.

Walking hand in hand, meandering along the path and giggling to ourselves, Javi let go of my hand and leaned over to kiss my neck, while wrapping one arm around me. I looked up at him and asked, “What was that for?” 

He kissed me on the lips and then smiled, proud of himself, as he pulled away, “Just cause.”

Entering the large, modern-meets-palatial, private house and feeling the delicious cool, brisk air of the AC was a welcome shock and Paddington immediately trotted over to his water bowl when I let him off his leash. Javi put his hand on the small of my back, letting it drift to my elbow, down my arm and then took my index finger with his large pinky finger. Leading me towards the kitchen with the bag of ice cream in the other hand, he set it on the counter. Turning around, he grabbed a small bowl from a cabinet behind him and scooped the puppy ice cream out for Paddy, setting it on the floor near his water. 

I poured two glasses of iced water and handed Javi one, “Cheers, mi vida.”

He raised his eyebrow as he took the glass, “Salud, mi amor.”

Grabbing two spoons from a drawer in the kitchen island and setting them on the counter, I reached into the bag and grabbed the pint of ice cream. I hopped up on the counter and opened the container, picking up one of the spoons and taking a taste of the honey lavender goodness. 

“Mmmmm!” I hummed, “This was an excellent choice.”

I scooped out a little more ice cream and Javi, pleased with my approval, stepped forward to take a taste off my spoon. His eyes grew wide, “It’s really good!”

“Do you want some more?” I asked slyly. He nodded, “Mm-hmm!”

I scooped a bit more ice cream out and took a bite for myself, and he immediately looked like a sad little puppy, disappointed that he didn’t get another bite right away.

“Awww, I’m sorry! Here ya go!” I dug into the melting ice cream, and got a nice big spoonful. “You want this?” He nodded.

I held out the spoon a little far away, giving him a look that said, “Wait for it!” Then I slowly moved the spoon towards him, as he waited patiently for his next bite, mouth slightly open, eyebrows twitching in anticipation. At the last moment, I took the spoon and slid the ice cream to the right, up his chin and then down his neck. He gasped, “What?! That’s sooo cold! Why?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I stifled a giggle through my obvious lie, "It’s just, I thought I saw something.”

“You saw something?” He looked around, with playful wide eyes.

“Yes.” I looked at him from under my lashes, trying to keep a sincere, straight face, but failing as a smile broke at the corners.

“Really?” His eyebrows raised, but he was more surprised and amused than anything else.

“Totally. In fact, I think I see something - just, right over…” I pointed gently where I’d smeared ice cream on his face and neck, “just, over - you know what - do you want me to get it for you?”

“I think maybe you should,” he said, pretending to be mad as he put his hands on his hips.

“Okay. Yeah, absolutely, of course,” I pulled him towards my post on the counter, giving a little tug on his orange and white striped guayabera. 

As he bent toward me, with a slightly petulant, impatient look on his turned face, I quickly leaned into the crook of his neck, putting one hand on his shoulder while the other still held the spoon, and slowly licked the ice cream up his neck towards his ear, Javi let out a deep breath, and his hands that he had been determined to keep at his hips slammed onto the counter on either side of me, as he leaned in closer. 

Putting one hand on my thigh, he squeezed my leg as I continued my journey, kissing and licking ice cream from the bottom of his ear, down his chin. As I licked the ice cream from the side of his mouth, his other hand reached up and held my chin. He looked into my eyes, drunkenly, breathing slowly, heavily - putting his forehead against mine for a moment, he gave me several gentle, light kisses on my lips that got more insistent, until they were deep, pliantly moving in and around me, as his other arm wrapped around my waist. 

Suddenly, I felt cold. Very, very cold, and I pulled back, “What? What is…?”

Looking at me with a devilish grin, Javi held his hand up, covered in ice cream, and I looked down at the spoon I’d been holding, that was now devoid of ice cream. “Really? REALLY?”

He raised one eyebrow, grinning, and shook his head 'yes' excitedly. I bit my lip, because honestly, there’s no way I could stay mad at him. At least not now, knowing that he’s game for a little tasting menu, if you will. And I certainly will.

Looking deep in my eyes, he asked, “Yes?”

Looking deep into his eyes, and giving an equally intrigued nod, “Yes.”

He didn’t waste a minute. Turning my face with one finger, and then drawing it down my neck, he went in for the kill. Kissing the honey lavender ice cream off my clavicle, up my neck, and around the back of my neck where it had started to drip down my back. With my eyes closed, fluttering in pleasure, I was aware that his hands were exploring me. Setting down the spoon, I ran my hands through his hair, using my fingernails to brush through and massage his scalp. I felt the buttons of my sleeveless halter blouse coming undone, and the knot at the bottom being fitfully untied as he continued to kiss my neck, my chin, my earlobe. My shirt was off and the light material draped around my elbows, Javi reached around and unclasped my bra, which easily got pulled down below my chest. 

“COLD! JAVI!” I let out loudly, dizzy with pheromones and shocked again, when I realized that he had taken more ice cream from the pint on the counter and strategically run a line of it from the inside of my left arm at the elbow, over my shoulder, and then down over my nipples.

“Don’t worry - I’ll warm you up,” he shrugged jovially. Kissing me deeply on the mouth, he simultaneously reached behind me and turned the kitchen faucet on. I could feel the heat from the steam and chuckled, as Javi continued kissing me, washing his hands with his arms around me while saying, “It’s fine. It’s fine. I can do both.”

When he’d dried off his hands on a nearby towel, he held them up briefly, “Clean hands!” Although, still kissing me the entire time, impressively enough. 

Slowly, he took my left arm with its sticky ice cream and raised it above my head, continuing to hold it there. Starting at the elbow he began to kiss the fragrant sweetness all along and down the sensitive part that rarely gets such detailed attention. As he moved down from my arm towards my shoulder and chest, his other hand moved up my skirt and I gasped, my nipples pricking up in the chilled air, very aware of the incredible human moving me closer to ecstasy.

Javi’s hand traveled into my silk lingerie under my skirt, his middle finger gently moving up from pussy to clit, slipping easily back and forth as I continued to heat up. Taking time to rub my clit rhythmically, before slipping back and forth again - all while kissing and licking down my shoulder, to my pert nipples, taking them in his mouth and swirling them, flicking gently. Slowly inserting the length of his middle finger into my vagina all the way up to his knuckles, curling his finger, pumping steadily in and out, then curling it again, letting his thumb massage my clit, until I was very nearly on the brink. 

‘No - no,’ I thought to myself through a thick cloud, ‘I want him inside me. I want his cock inside me. I need it.’ I leaned forward and said, “Enough, this isn’t fair - it’s your turn.” And I gave him a huge smile, and kissed him, “Let’s trade places.”

Looking at me quizzically and a little suspiciously, Javi stood up straight and helped me off the counter - then I acted like I was helping him onto the counter, and we laughed together because honestly, that’s ridiculous.

In our switched positions, he was high up on the kitchen island. I stood between his legs looking up, standing on my tippy toes as he leaned over to kiss me. Unbuttoning his shirt was not a challenge. What was a challenge, was sneaking more ice cream to rub onto his chest. 

Reader, I was successful, much to Javi’s chagrin. He pouted, “No! Not again!”

I giggled and promised to follow the happy little ice cream trail wherever it went, which made him less sad. However - a new rule was put into place, “No more hands.”

“What??” How was I supposed to unbutton his pants without hands?

“You heard me. No. More. Hands. No. Más. Manos.” He interlocked our hands, palm to palm, fingers intertwined. “This ice cream business is getting out of hand. And this will keep us both honest,” he smirked.

“How am I supposed to, uh…” I nodded towards his pants and whistled.

“Oh, I think you’ll find a way to…” he nodded down at his pants and whistled. “You’re so creative, querida. Such a problem solver. That’s why I love you,” he said as he leaned in to nuzzle and kiss me just under my earlobe, “mmmm, honey lavender.”

I turned my face quickly and surprised him by kissing him roughly, and he pushed back into me. Palms to palms, fingers interlocked, he took my hands with his when he wrapped his arms around me. My shoulders pushed my chest forward as my arms were pinned behind my back, intertwined with Javi’s, and my breasts pressed against his strong, beautiful chest. 

A chill ran through me, and I pulled away, “I need to get that ice cream off your chest, Javi.”

Slowly, he looked me up and down, “As you wish, cara mia,” releasing me from the hug, but still holding onto my hands. 

“Oui, mon cher,” I said, giving him saucy bedroom eyes and lips.

Giving him kisses, I worked my way down to the button at the top of his pants. I paused for a moment. It was clear from the outline in his pants that he was as ready for me as I was for him. I thirsted for his cock and sighed, forlornly looking at that button. Never was there ever a greater barrier for anyone else in the world, to getting what they truly and honestly and absolutely desired. Above me I heard a rumbling chuckle, and I realized that I had said all of that out loud.

Keep Reading Part 2/5