#toc concept

[thoughtfulobservationcollection]

First post for the new tag "toc concept". Physics step off to show the artistry.

Images taken this year, unlike the rest that are still from 2023

[marskiiii]

did a thing for my sister <3 @blackswanndraws

[ticenchantedtoc]

Daffodil

Since the theme this week is "In the Garden," I thought what better time to make concept art for Heartflowers! Heartflowers is a hanahaki-inspired au originally created by @fizzy-dizz in which Adam is cursed to have roses growing inside him, and the rest of the staff are cursed with external plant growth that reflects their emotional state.

Lumiere's flowers are daffodils. Daffodils represent joy and vitality, and their cup-like shape imitates the look of Lumiere's candles in his canon design. However, the narcissus flower—named for the Greek legend of a man who fell in love with his own reflection in a lake and drowned—is also a kind of daffodil. Lumiere's flowers grow larger and cover more of his body (especially his face) when he acts selfishly and when he hides his true feelings behind a veil of optimism.

@beauty-beast-week

[thatonecompetitionshow]

Quite the rivalry these two have going for them!!

[skelenby]

Summer Solstice Soirée!

[dreamsofbroflovski]

CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG W FEM BODIED READER I BEG PLEASE GO WILD

I do believe I did, in fact, go wild.

Seemingly contrary to popular demand, the (first) Craig fic is here! Have one more already in drafts.

I'm still writing slow apparently

Pastor!Craig Tucker x Succubus!Reader - match made in hell

Also available on ao3!

Summary: What was supposed to be a normal night of feeding for one powerful succubus turns into much more when she runs into Craig Tucker, a simple pastor from a small town - allegedly.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Smut, Oral Sex, Deepthroating/Facefucking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cowgirl Position, Slapping, Mentions of Alcohol, Religious Imagery and Symbolism (Portrayed NEGATIVELY - Reader is a sex demon)

A/N: Warning: If you have a particularly close and positive relationship with religion and/or get offended easily, I suggest you avoid this work. The Reader character is a sex demon, and as such, some descriptions of religion and comments on it are less than respectful. If you wanna read Craig but aren't keen on this one, I have something else prepared for him in a more light-hearted and cutesy tone coming soon (possibly next month because I do also have a request for Kyle, and Craig needs a break)

My first one of 2025. Here's to many more! I hope the person who created the concepts for Pastor Craig and Imp Tweek in the Phone Destroyer headquarters got paid HANDSOMELY. These two characters are endless mines of content for the fandom, and all the fanart people have created with them is fucking FIRE

Toc toc toc, my shoes clacked as I walked down the street in an unknown town, the repetitive sound only being broken when stepping over the still fresh tiny clumps of snow all over the ground. The cold didn’t graze my body, which was always warm and comfortable no matter the weather or outfit, and the area was empty enough at night, so I also didn’t have to deal with the usual looks of confusion people had on their faces when they saw me walking down the street in nothing but six inch heels and a strapless tube minidress.

I walked without really knowing or caring about my destination or surroundings - the workings of human geography are irrelevant to an entity of superior ranking such as myself. Being a succubus means being able to find sustenance absolutely anywhere, with my powers being able to do the whole work of charming a target that I could then fuck, their semen containing precious life energy that I fed on. Not that I needed that energy right now; it hadn’t been long since I last manifested into the Earth looking for food, which meant I was… still full, so to speak.

My presence in the human realm at all was considered abnormal. Most of my sex demon peers were mostly used to visiting humans in the form of wet dreams and taking their energy off of that. They didn’t also feed often, only doing so when they really needed to, to save themselves the trip and the hassle. As such, most of them turned their noses when seeing me making moves on the land of the living rather frequently, enjoying the thrill of the chase and taking my victims in person - usually with them ending up dead as a result; most human men couldn’t survive an actual physical encounter with a succubus, hence my colleagues’ preference for dreamwalking.

Which is probably why all of those other demons were fucking weaklings and I was the most powerful by a huge margin, but that’s a story for another time.

Soon I found myself at the entrance of an unknown tavern. It had all the airs of a place that’s trying too hard, like it was trying to cater to an audience that wasn’t its usual and was probably failing miserably on that. I already knew I had to brace myself for what I would find inside. The men that usually frequented these places usually reflected the ambience - acting all high and mighty, pretending to know more than they actually did, and like you should be grateful they’re even bothering to lend you a moment of their oh-so-important night. And I’d have to humor these types of cretins, laugh at their jokes and pretend to be smitten by their flirting, give them the satisfaction of sleeping with them. Those men were no different than the types you’d find at the run-down bars in the shittiest parts of the human world, their minds worked in the exact same way and I always found more delight in seeing their dead bodies under me than I had when actively having sex.

The thought of that delight was what gave me the patience to push through the heavy doors into the pretentious pub. Jazz music played softly on unseen speakers, but with almost no ears to appreciate it; the place was mostly empty. Just one guy sitting alone at a table in the corner looking over the window, a couple on a table closer to the entrance - the annoyed look on their faces told me I wouldn’t have the slightest hint of a problem making a move on the husband if I wanted him, and he probably wouldn’t be missed after death either - and a loner on the stools by the counter.

Immediately after I entered, the most delicious scent invaded my nostrils, overpowering all my other senses and clouding my awareness of the environment like a purple-ish haze. My kind is able to feel the sexual energy flowing through human beings, much like a predator can smell its prey. It is usually different from person to person, sometimes mouth-watering, sometimes repulsive, but it always has the same effect of drawing us in and making us aware of possible targets. Some humans have more energy than others, more impacting and flavorful scents - those are what their kind would usually see as sexually superior, the ones with lots of stamina and a sensual aura that cannot be ignored, an information that is not necessarily attached to their physical appearance. Never quite to the level of us succubi, but those individuals usually did make for tasty meals.

Whoever was exuding this smell, however, was on another echelon entirely. I didn’t think I had ever felt that much sexual aura emanating from one single person, and I had come across many powerful examples. Being with someone like this would no doubt be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, both in the matter of power intake from the feeding and sexual gratification of the act itself. It was like a complete banquet had been placed right under my face, and all it would take for me to feast was seducing one insignificant human male, a task I knew I had in the bag.

My head turned in the direction the smell was coming from, an almost automatic movement, instincts taking over to more easily get to my prey. Immediately my brain identified the target, the guy at the counter, nursing a glass of something all by himself. It was a young man, possibly in what would be the early to mid twenties in a human lifespan. The most ridiculous blue chullo hat covered his hair, and honestly it had me confused for a second on how a guy wearing something like that could have such a powerful aura. The rest of his outfit was mostly normal - run-of-the-mill dark blue jeans, a black blazer fully open at the front, well-shined dress shoes on his feet. Overall very unassuming. Had it not been for the full black collar shirt with the white detail on the front of the neck, I might’ve not even realized that the man was a pastor.

Not that it was a problem. I had been with religious leaders many times, and this one definitely wouldn’t be the last. For all their hatred for demons and their efforts to steer the ‘sheep’, as they called it, away from temptation, they were always particularly easy to seduce - a whole life built on self-imposed abstinence often made for extremely frustrated men who could never put up a fight against my sensual charms, their pent-up sexual energy bursting to the forefront at the first opportunity. Admittedly, it was actually kind of fun; seeing the desperation behind their eyes as they struggled to keep their cool and remind themselves of their vows to whatever deity they worshiped, the hypocrisy they exhibited when finally running their disgusting hands all over my skin, and their completely drained bodies when it was all over. Every single one of them had died under me.

Licking my lips over the perspective of an easy full meal, I made my way to the counter across the door, taking the free seat to the right of the pastor, balancing myself on the flimsy bar stool and checking him out through the corner of my eye. From most men, I got feedback right upon arrival, and it could come either in the form of a quick glance or a full-blown stare, depending on how smitten and desperate the guy was. The one on my left, however, barely flinched, not even the usual reaction associated with having someone sit right beside you when everywhere else is empty. He just took another sip off his glass, his eyes fixed on the shelves of beverages in front of us, physically seeing them but clearly not committing anything to memory.

Weird behaviour, but fine by me. Even if he might act a little odd, the only thing I wanted from this man was his energy, and that he clearly had to spare. So it was worth taking the lead and forcing him to pay attention to me. I leaned towards him, expecting that to create some sort of movement from him, but he did absolutely nothing. So I touched his shoulder lightly, forcing his brain to acknowledge my presence, even if his body wouldn’t show it.

Putting on my most demure and soft voice, I spoke to him in a low volume. “Excuse me, sir, can you call the bartender for me? I don’t think he’s seen me here yet.” Total bullshit. The place was almost empty and everyone who was present saw me enter, the only reason I hadn’t been served so far was because I literally didn’t give anyone any time to.

The pastor simply lifted his hand in silence, still not looking at me, and the aforementioned bartender came rather quickly, introducing himself and the place, clearly already entranced by my presence and affected by my love charm. Unfortunately - or fortunately? - for him, he wasn’t my target. I ordered a B-52; just a simple shot, so I could maybe strike a conversation over it with the guy sitting beside me, or at least buy myself some time to come up with another excuse.

“Hey, you’re a pastor, right?” I pointed to the collar of his shirt, feigning ignorance, “Why are you at a bar?”

The guy took another sip of his drink - now that I was up close, I could see it was a glass of plain whiskey. When he opened his mouth to speak, I felt his energy all over again - his voice was deep and devoid of all emotion, but extremely hot to the ears. “If you had to constantly deal with the people of this town, you’d drink too.”

I forced my mind to stop thinking about how sexy he sounded and focus on his actual words. Jaded, like everything else about his demeanor. “Sure, but I didn’t know y’all could drink,” I retorted, chuckling a bit to emphasize the unseriousness of my comment, “Isn’t that forbidden or something?”

“Jesus turned water to wine,” the pastor shrugged.

The finger that had drawn attention to his collar now pointed to his glass. “Wine, not whisky.”

“It’s all alcohol anyway.”

And that’s what truly mattered to him, apparently.

My shot glass arrived and I downed it quickly, suppressing a smirk as I heard the guy speak again, of his own accord this time. “I have never seen you before,” his comment felt slightly funny, considering he hadn’t looked at me at all yet, “And I’m the pastor. I know everyone.”

“Oh, I’m just… visiting,” my usual hand-crafted excuse for why I was somewhere slipped without even having to think about it, “Not really from around the area.”

“I can see that,” he said from behind his glass, his voice echoing slightly inside of it and making the liquid vibrate.

“You haven’t even seen me yet…” I let that sentence draw out flirtingly, my hand moving to the pastor’s chin and tilting his face to the side so it would be towards me - knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it even though I hadn’t asked permission. Guys like him cared heavily about their personal space, while I didn’t, so my demonic powers always won out.

I expected him to try and turn away right off the bat, get full blown red in the face in a way that I’d be able to practically see the lascivious thoughts running inside of his head and hear his inner voice trying to reel them back. Instead, he just eyed me up and down, his expression unreadable. Wasn’t even subtle about the fact he was doing it, either. When he was done analyzing me, he turned towards the bar again.

“So…” I murmured again, not letting him have his silence, “What do you think?”

“That’s a stupid question to ask the local pastor,” his answer came as dry as ever.

“Well… Can I at least get a name for the local pastor then?” finally finding a chance to ask, I gave him my best soft smile, making my question seem innocent enough, “Just in case I wanna attend mass while I’m here?”

“You’d get one if you actually went to the thing,” he retorted, ”But I guess it’s fair. I’m Craig Tucker. You?”

I gave him a fake one, like always, one off the little list of feminine-sounding names I had memorized for those exact occasions. Craig repeated it after me in a murmur, seemingly testing how it rolled off his tongue, but it didn’t matter to me. The way he’d moan it when deep inside was the only one that counted.

“Craig Tucker.” My way of saying his name was less about memorizing it and more about making a declaration to myself; setting my prey’s name to my brain, like throwing a dart at a picture of him on the wall. “I still want your answer…”

He drank the final bit of the whiskey he had and set the glass aside. “Like you need salvation, lady.”

The fit of laughter that came from me was completely genuine. Surely it wasn’t intended as a compliment - or maybe it was; hard to tell with Craig - but I took it as one anyway, committing it to memory for later bragging to my fellow succubi. “Is that so?” I said once the hilarity of it all started to die down, “Hm… You know all about salvation, don’t you? Maybe you can help a girl out… I wanna go to heaven, after all.”

Words that quite literally hurt my tongue to say, like thousands of hot needles pricking on it, but I managed to push through the discomfort - you don’t become one of the best by following every single rule Hell forces upon you. The pastor waited a moment, then lifted his hand in the air, calling for the bartender, who came rather quickly. They exchanged some words I didn’t care to hear; all that mattered was Craig signaling in my direction, both of them looking at me for a moment, then the other man nodding quickly and stepping right away to prepare a drink.

That’s when I knew it was all working. This is how it always started. Men would get entranced by my charm and try to woo me with drinks and erotic words, which was just entertainment in itself from how hilarious they were most of the time. It was always worth it coming up to this realm for that alone. Then they’d start making passes on me, trying to get a move on, and when I accepted eagerly, they’d leave with me thinking that they were getting the upper hand on the whole thing by taking a hot babe home with barely any effort. Even if some of them started out slightly put off by a woman showing so much initiative, the end result was inevitable; a husk of a man left completely drained in his bed, if he managed to make it out alive, and me off on the road to my next endeavor.

It didn’t take long for me to hear the glass sliding across the bar counter, but when I caught it with my hand, what I saw gave me pause. I was used to the fancy tall glasses with colorful drinks, all fruit and sugar and barely any alcohol at all, that men would buy me in clubs when trying to impress. Instead, what stopped in front of me was a small glass of Old Fashioned, an orange slice resting lazily inside of the amber liquid, alongside a single dark red cherry that had sunk to the bottom with its stem still poking out of the cup. I had had a couple of these before, but had to charm bartenders into giving them to me every single time - they were much more up my alley than the borderline diabetes-inducing drinks I was normally forced to enjoy, but men wouldn’t ever let me have those because they didn’t think a pretty woman like me could handle the real deal.

I blinked twice, looking at my drink, before lifting my eyes to Craig again. A new, full glass of whiskey had appeared in his hand, probably while I was too busy in my slight shock.  “Don’t you think that’s… a bit too much for a woman?” I chuckled, lifting up the glass and shaking it lightly, letting the ice clink around. Though my comment was playing into the usual human gender norms, the real objective was to gauge his intentions and thoughts; the pastor had already proven to be more than meets the eye, and I was just dying to find out more about what happened inside that ridiculous hat he wore.

“It’s nothing. I think you can handle it,” he responded with a snort - probably the most emotion he had shown yet, even if it was a bit of disdain, “If you’re too weak, then give it here.”

Immediately I took the drink out of his reach and brought it to my mouth. The liquid burned as it went down my throat, leaving behind a lingering stinging sensation, obviously too strong for my human disguise but absolutely delicious for me. This time, Craig spun his whole body on the bar stool to face me, watching my reaction with great interest - evidently expecting me to gag or cough or maybe even start crying. I didn’t give him the satisfaction, taking great joy in the strong flavor of a proper beverage for a change.

The whole glass was gone in a couple of gulps, and I let it rest on the counter. The small orange slice was left alone in the glass when I picked the alcohol-soaked cherry and placed it between my teeth, my eyes shining with mischief as I teasingly closed my lips around the fruit and broke the stem away, chewing slowly without ever losing the pastor’s gaze.

“Well would you look at that.” There was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, which I was.

After swallowing the chewed cherry - much less sweet from its time submerged in the drink -, I let my lips curve into a smirk. “You’re right. I can handle it.”

“Clearly.” The pastor raised his own glass towards me, as if going for a toast, despite the fact that I didn’t have anything to toast with anymore. He didn’t wait for any reaction of mine, just bringing the drink to his lips right after the silent movement. A nonverbal acknowledgement of my skill, not necessarily praise since his face was still cold as ever, but close.

I lifted my glass a few inches from the table as well, reciprocating the imaginary toast. “Cheers to the fact that I can handle my alcohol?”

Just like me, he was done with his glass of whiskey after a few gulps, drinking rapidly without a break. The noise the glass made when he placed it on the bar was maybe a bit too loud, even though Craig’s movements were as calculated as they had been the whole time. “You can handle more than that,” he responded, “Or at least it’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

I put my hand over my mouth, hiding a giggle. “Excuse me?”

The pastor leaned towards me, lacing his fingers and propping his elbows on his thighs. “You come to a bar with barely anyone in it, wearing next to nothing, sit right next to a dude you’ve never seen and start a conversation with him. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Yeah, of course. He was spot on. Not that I was trying to be secretive about my intentions, but usually the religious fellows don’t speak on them with their full chest like this guy did. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I murmured, looking elsewhere and twirling a strand of hair on my index finger in the most obvious flirty move ever, a behavior that annoyed even myself with how stupid it was. 

“Don’t play with me, lady,” his tone was firmer this time and I knew I didn’t have much more time with my coy act before he’d lose his patience, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t prolong it as much as I could. “I’m a pastor, not a fucking dumbass.”

The sudden cursing should’ve felt absurd, but somehow I knew Craig was not above it. “Language!” I nudged his leg with my foot playfully.

“You can fuck right off.” Swiftly, he stood up, his bar stool making a noise on the floor with the quick movement. ”Now, let’s go.”

It wasn’t a suggestion or a question. It was an order.

“Where?” I tilted my face a bit.

The eye roll he gave me could’ve made a person dizzy. “My place.”

“Oh, but…” I pouted slightly while looking up at him, “I thought guys from the church had to wait until marriage?”

“We do. And we also don’t drink or curse.” He pulled a wallet from the pocket of his blazer and slammed a bill on the counter, visibly not intent on waiting for change. His point needed no further explanation. “Now you can leave with me or you can leave alone, it’s your call.”

Craig’s poker face made it really hard to decipher which parts of his attraction to me were doings of my passive demonic charm and how much of it was actually just him being interested without me having to do anything. His actions seemed completely original, he wasn’t much trying to impress me or jumping at the slightest hint of my affections like guys usually did when I used my abilities on them. Maybe he just… Wanted me of his own accord.

Fine by me. Giving up on any further teasing, at least for the time being, I got up as well and followed him out into the cold night like a guided missile - not without looking back one last time and noticing the disgruntled expression on the bartender’s face as he saw me leaving with the pastor.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

My high heels had barely touched the carpet in Craig’s apartment before the door slammed and his hands were on me. The whole drive there we hadn’t spoken a word to each other, his eagerness only still noticeable by the firm grip on the steering wheel and the several red lights he ran through. He had managed to restrain all his desire for a moment where we’d be fully comfortable and alone to act on it.

The pastor didn’t try to butter me up by showing me around his house or using flattering words on me some more like anyone else would - no, he went straight for the kill. Clearly Craig gave no fucks for anything that didn’t explicitly pique his interest, and right now his interest was in my body, so that’s what he was going to focus on and all the other social norms were out the window. He knew I wanted him too, so in his vision, there was no point in waiting. This straightforward attitude of his drove him further and further into my trap and he didn’t even know it.

He spun me around after closing the door and took my lips on his, wasting no time before sliding his tongue past my teeth and letting it find mine in a passionate dance. That blue hat had somehow vanished in the couple of seconds I wasn’t looking at him, Craig’s full head of short black hair slightly mussed from being under its confines too long, a problem that I solved quickly by running my fingers all over it as I grabbed his head to pull it impossibly closer.

Although the fire with which he kissed me was welcome, it also seemed unbecoming. The celibates I charmed in the past usually had an awkwardness attached to the way that they touched me, because they literally didn’t know how - their teeth would clash onto mine when they tried to come for a kiss, and they’d try to grope and massage the weirdest parts of my body, clamoring to feel any part of a woman’s soft skin. Craig had none of that. His hands immediately went for my ass, hiking up my form-fitting dress and letting the fabric bunch on my hips, taking the soft yet firm flesh on his palms as he squeezed it possessively. 

He tried forcing me to walk backwards in the direction he wanted to go, his legs taking him automatically despite his closed eyes, since he already knew the way around all the obstacles. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t have that same awareness. When the back of my leg hit what seemed to be an armchair and we lost our walking pace, Craig grunted in major annoyance before breaking our kiss and narrowing his eyes at me like I had just committed the eighth deadly sin. Immediately, he used all the strength in his arms to pull me up, my legs wrapping tight around his waist and my arms around his neck instinctively as I lost my footing. Apparently, he figured it was better that he take me himself, since I was being ‘inefficient’ to him. I didn’t mind that at all.

“Wow, you’re strong,” my whispering made his arms tighten around me even more, “You gotta tell me your workout routine later…”

“Someone like you wouldn’t keep up with it,” the way he said it wasn’t exactly sexy; more matter-of-fact, as if it was actually part of a conversation - one he wouldn’t continue, having clashed his lips on mine right after to stop me from questioning.

It didn’t take many steps for him to kick a door open in some direction I didn’t care for and bring me into his bedroom, throwing me onto the mattress without much care, my body bouncing on impact. His bed was queen size - kind of unnecessary for a guy who couldn’t actually lay beside somebody else before marriage, but very convenient for my purposes - and extremely comfortable, with cushy pillows and a decent comforter that smelled like him. A huge focus on personal satisfaction that probably cost a lot and thus went against the humility he was supposed to preach.

Faking a contented hum, I made quick work of my tiny dress, the only thing covering my otherwise very naked form, and stretched myself lazily, turning around like a pleased cat and touching the comforter all over with my body; not quite masking his scent with my own, but rather creating an enticing cocktail better than anything he could buy at the flimsy bar I met him at. It’d undoubtedly stick for many days even after I left, to keep Craig - or whoever discovered his dead body - completely aware of what had transpired in this mattress.

Stopping after a few moments, I laid on my side, facing a very stiff Craig who gazed down at me with his arms crossed. My eyes managed to catch on to the slightest twitch of his nose, which had me grinning straight away - I was getting to him, even if it was almost impossible to tell. My sexy little show did not go unnoticed.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” I bit on one of my fingernails , pointing at him with the other hand. “Or are you gonna strip for me?”

I made sure to not use any of my seduction magic at that moment, wanting to play with his response, expecting him to fight me for it. Instead, he just let out an annoyed grunt, his hands moving to his belt - unlike what I’m usually accustomed to, the pants came off before anything else; he pulled him down along with his boxers in a very quick motion, kicking them off of his feet with his shoes and leaving them on the ground somewhere unseen. 

My attention was immediately drawn to his rock hard cock. There were no roundabouts for it: he was damn massive. Likely one of the biggest I’d seen on a mortal in centuries, in both length and girth. Had a patch of black hair at the base, extremely nicely trimmed, as if it had been done just that same day - first time I actually saw a religious guy care about his pubic hair. The veins that ran under the sensitive skin of his cock were visible even under just the dim moonlight that came from his blinds, and so were the beads of precum already leaking from the huge tip, glistening like they were made of thousands of tiny diamonds. His balls hung low, seeming heavy and full, ready to keep me fed and strengthen my demonic power for possibly weeks on end. Maybe it was a blessing to human women that his calling had been voluntary celibacy, otherwise his sexual partners would be in severe danger.

“Yeah, it’s fucking big,” Craig groaned, my unabashed inspection clearly not getting past him. Understatement of the century, but was this guy reading my mind? “And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

The words were meant to threaten me, but they had the opposite effect. My body was built for exactly that. “Well, if god made it, it must fit, right?” I decided to taunt him back, reminding him of his position despite the filth that came out of his mouth.

He scoffed. “God didn’t make it.”

I was left to try and understand just what the fuck he was talking about while he continued to undress, taking off his blazer and undoing his collar and the buttons of his shirt with practiced ease, letting both pieces of fabric fall to the floor next to his pants and allowing me to see what his build looked like. The source of his earlier strength was then clear to me. For a pastor, he was pretty toned - the shirt and blazer did a fantastic job of hiding his defined arms and abs, maintaining  that completely boring façade he had while the real gem was hidden from view. In each movement, Craig Tucker laid in front of me more of his secrets and surprises, sating my mental curiosity before he even had a chance to do the same to my physical vessel.

With his upper body now bare, I took in another detail that had been hidden under his shirt. A silver cross rested on his chest, dangling from a simple chain, barely any details on it - ingenuous, just like the rest of him.

I let my nails scratch his whole torso lightly, moving up from his abdomen all the way to the chain, twisting it in my index finger while I looked at Craig with a sultry grin. Contrary to popular human belief, the little pendant had no effect on me - their religious symbols were nothing more than decorative pieces of wood or metal to us, powerless against the forces of Hell. “What about this?”

“It stays on,” he immediately said, grabbing my wrist and yanking it away from his necklace. This pastor was fully naked for me, yet some part of him still clung to his deity. It was hilarious.

“Suit yourself.” I giggled.

Craig nodded, as if to silently tell me ‘I will’, before grabbing my arm and dragging me on the bed until I was laid across it on my stomach. I propped myself up on my elbows, but before I could even try and look at him, the pastor did all the work for me by grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling it back so I was forced to do just that while he positioned himself in front of my face.

Despite me already knowing where this was headed, I still tilted my head a bit to the side in a silent inquiry of his actions, which he was quick to answer. “I need to figure out if this mouth is good for anything,” he took his cock in his free hand and gave a few lazy taps with it on my bottom lip, “Besides drinking booze and flirting with men of the church.”

“Oh, so you do admit it’s good for all that?” I whispered before closing my lips around his tip, watching the annoyed eye roll he was preparing disappear as his eyelids fluttered closed and his mouth hung open just the tiniest bit when I started sliding my tongue along the slit before swirling it all over, the wetness of his pre being replaced with that of my saliva.

I hummed smugly while starting to slowly take more of that cock inside my mouth, letting the vibrations course through him. I lived for this. Even the most unresponsive of motherfuckers couldn’t control himself with me, and I was counting on just a few more seconds before Craig Tucker became complete putty in my hands. The idea of ending this with only a blowjob, not even getting to fuck him and know what it was like to have such a huge guy inside of me, was a little bit upsetting, but this was a decision he made. Oh well, I thought, until…

With a sharp snap of his hips, he buried all of that inside of my throat.

The coughing and sputtering I emitted when that happened weren’t physical responses. Succubi don’t exactly have useful gag reflexes or the need to breathe, because we’re not mortal; even if our disguises look the part, every single bit of them exists only to elicit arousal or assist in feeding or reproduction, with all the other stupid human necessities made irrelevant. So all of that reaction was purely shock - complete astonishment at the fact that he was able to do something like that with so little care and effort, and no warning whatsoever. Something that could’ve possibly killed a normal human woman, which was, at least to him, what he was dealing with.

He was already waiting to meet my gaze when I looked up to him with wide eyes, moving his free hand to give the side of my face a few light slaps. ”I told you you were gonna take it,” the pastor said, the tiniest of smirks curving his lips for a brief second before he shifted into his stone-faced self again and started slowly pulling himself out of my mouth, “Now hopefully this shuts your damn trap.”

The pace he set while fucking my face wasn’t as brutal as his initial thrust, but I had a vague idea that it wasn’t exactly for my own comfort - he was just trying to draw out the sensation for the longest time possible. My hands grabbed his hips, trying to bring back some semblance of control over the circumstances, which only had him tugging harder at my hair and made me choke in another surprised response. Tears started prickling at the sides of my eyes and streaming down my cheeks, yet I still noticed how Craig’s own gaze laser focused on that; he was finding my whole struggle hot.

So I really played up the act. My grip became more intense and my nails dug down slightly on his skin, as if I was struggling and trying to make him get away, and I shut my eyes tight while gasping and choking all around his cock, my tongue swirling around it and getting it even more smeared in my building saliva. I didn’t need the gift of vision to take in his reaction - his low grunts reached my ears like they had been broadcasted to the whole world.

Then his hand came in contact with my face again, this time in a very fierce smack that made me yelp and cough immediately. “Shut up,” the pastor hissed, “I didn’t ask for your whining…”

Even so, considering how he sped up his thrusts considerably after this, it was clear said whining was very much welcome. So I kept on doing it, taking in stride every single following slap and thrust of his inside of my mouth, faking pain and discomfort but never completely surrendering. 

He was getting close, I could sense it as he went to the initial brutish behaviour of shoving himself all the way quickly like it was just another hole instead of someone’s throat. I used my hands to try and pull him towards me this time, trying to catch any sliver of confusion on his part with this, but getting nothing. Craig just continued using my mouth for his own pleasure, and I braced myself for the surge of power I was about to receive once he came, having literally sucked the life out of him.

Until he gave my hair a yank and pulled himself back abruptly, swiftly taking himself on his free hand and letting a sequence of warm white jets land straight onto my face.

I almost screamed with anger. It was almost impossible for a human man to have enough self-control to pull out of a succubus, no matter which hole he was using. It felt like a personal defeat, to let prey use me like that and not even get to feed. But not everything was over - the pastor was still standing, his eyes closed and head thrown back, but very much alive. He had survived the ordeal, and, for the way he still had my hair on a grip, there was energy for yet another round, one I would not dare to lose.

“Craaaaaig…” I tapped my fingers on his body after a bit, trying to get him to look down at me, to see my face plastered with both his release and the mess of spit all around my mouth from his reckless fucking.

In a small victory of mine, he did. Letting go of his cock and taking my chin in his hand, the pastor tilted my face slowly to one side and then to the other, his eyes narrow as he analyzed his own work. While he did that, my eyes drifted down to his dick - confirming with delight that he was still rock hard as ever, even after coming so hard on my face. That man was one of a kind indeed.

Giving out a type of snort that I couldn’t differentiate between amused and disdainful, Craig released me fully. He silently made his way to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it, sighing as he laid on the mattress, getting cozy against his soft pillows.

No way I’d allow him relaxation now. I was not leaving that place without what I came to get in there. This guy would not be my first defeat. “Tired already?” I whined, turning around and propping myself up on one elbow as the other hand sneaked towards his chest. “I wanna play more…”

Craig turned his face to me with a stern look. “Do I seem tired to you?” Always. “And shut up.” He then patted his thigh with his hand, keeping his gaze on me. Guess my moment of just opening wide and looking pretty was done.

Slowly, teasingly, I straddled his body, his eyes following my every movement like a critic’s. I rolled my hips a few times over his cock, letting my arousal coat it - although it would take much more of it to cover his full length. Though his eyebrows curved into a frown, clearly displeased by the fact that I was waiting so long to just put him in, he couldn’t help but watch the full display with focused eyes, taking every single movement in with an interest that he didn’t show but I knew was there.

“Just get on with it already,” the complaint finally came after a few moments, his hands moving up my thighs.

“In a rush? We have the whole night,” I purred, taking one of my hands to his face and dragging my index finger along his cheek, settling it on his lower lip. 

Craig tilted his face up a bit to move my touch away from his mouth before speaking again. “The earlier we start, the more we do. So stop wasting time.” Hands finding my hips, he took a firm hold on them and lifted them up himself, staring at his own slick-covered cock for a few seconds before looking up at me again, “Unless it’s too much for you.”

Fuck you, I thought to myself, before realizing I was about to do just that. It was clear he knew the effect he had, how sexy he really was, even if he didn’t conceive the true nature of that power. To say something like that to a sex demon! The disrespect! Made me even want to show my real form to him for a brief moment, so that measly pastor could really know what he was dealing with before I drained the life out of him. But I held it back, deciding to make him swallow his words through actions.

Which is why right after getting into position, I sank onto him entirely in one quick movement, meeting the base of his huge length with a brutal downward thrust. My walls stretched themselves to accommodate him in a snug fit, swiftly and painlessly, the perks of a body that is literally made for that. He groaned deeply with this, pressing his lips together to not let the sound be any louder, but the damage had been done.

I leaned towards him a bit to whisper in his ear, “It’s just enough.”

He had unknowingly put me in every succubus’ favourite position. Being on top meant I got complete control over the situation, free rein to do as I pleased while Craig would be left to squirm and take what I gave him. As I straightened my posture and started to ride him expertly, he also began lifting his hips up to meet mine, trying to establish some sort of dominance over my movements, his hands roaming everywhere on my body like they were trying to leave an invisible trail of his touch.

Knowing I had him under relative control, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the moment. And oh how easy it was to do so. He was so big I could feel him everywhere, hitting the deepest parts of me every time I moved, and the pleasure was indescribable. Legitimately, I had never felt better - my whole body was covered in a delightful warmth with the desire he created, even hotter wherever he handled me. Admission had to be made: Craig was a remarkable lover, and in other circumstances, I’d dream of finding out what else he could do with that cock as well as other parts of him. Maybe if he lived, I’d visit him in his dreams again, both to torment his soul and keep using his body for my leisure without actually allowing him the respite of death.

Actually, that even might not be much of a respite. He’d certainly be in my grounds by then. A church man who willingly gives in to a cardinal sin? Those are rarely allowed in that paradise they talk about so much. 

“You were right, Craig…” I murmured between breathy whimpers, “I think I am good for more than what you said…”

His face was contorted with the effort he was making, but he still managed to keep his eyes open, meeting my gaze fiercely. “You… You really don’t shut up, do you?” He huffed as he spoke, the pleasure and the strain of repeatedly fucking into me clearly getting to him. I merely chuckled and started moving even faster - my dirty talking became uninteresting to me over the sound of our skin slapping and the mattress’ bounce.

Bringing my face down close to him again, I licked a long stripe on his cheek. Surprisingly, despite the physical exertion, he wasn’t sweating. Still, human skin was extremely tempting to any demon, and Craig’s especially so. I couldn’t help but sigh with desire, the light breath hitting right on the wet line on his face, and I fixed my position just in time to see him shudder and groan at that feeling - like the logical part of him wanted to complain and be disgusted but his body was too far gone to actually know what about.

The smell of his essence was getting stronger by the second and it took a lot from me to not both pull all my stops to make him cum and also to not finish myself from the overwhelming ecstasy. Through that haze of lust, there was still a certain competitive aspect for me - knowing that I’d come out the other side from an encounter with such a formidable opponent on the human race, someone whose essence any sex demon would kill to have, to have their abilities obscenely heightened by such great power. Knowing that, from the moment he came, he’d be mine. 

“Say my name,” I honestly didn’t even remember which was the one I had told him; all that mattered was his calling out to me, acknowledging who had prevailed.

It took him a few gasps of air before an answer came. “(Y/N),” he finally husked.

Shock came through me in two different ways. First was the physical: The sound of my name on Craig’s voice made tension I didn’t even know I had over my whole body snap like an elastic that was let go after being stretched to its limits. A scream of pleasure broke free from deep inside my very being as I came around his cock, with an intensity that bordered on violent, jolts upon jolts of lightning starting from my cunt and running through every single part of me. In that moment, my nails clawed his chest viciously, actively etching marks on his skin - the force of my orgasm had me losing control of my human disguise for a brief moment, and my demonic form shone through right in front of the pastor’s eyes.

Yet he didn’t flinch from the pain or shout at the new sight. Gritting his teeth and emitting a shuddering grunt from behind them, he bucked upwards a few more erratic times before spilling fully inside of me, streams upon streams of his seed filling me up completely, seeming endless. I didn’t even have time to enjoy the brutal surge of energy that washed over me from taking in his life energy; my whole body was already too busy spasming from pleasure, and my mind couldn’t be informed of anything else, having short-circuited completely.

When I eventually came down from the orgasm that ravaged my entire system, I was finally left to deal with the second shock: The psychological. And that’s when the world stopped spinning. The part of Hell inside of me froze.

There was absolutely no way.

I hadn’t told the pastor my real name, and it was a deliberate decision, but it meant more than just any chick on a one-night stand who doesn’t want to see the guy again. For demons, our name is legitimate business. Knowing a demon’s real name means having power over them, and we don’t, under any circumstances, want another being to have that kind of hold on us; it usually means complete destruction. Most humans don't know about this, but we still avoid telling them the real thing, because they can use that power even without knowing of it.

And yet here Craig was, knowing that information and using it like it was nothing. Looking at him again, my eyes went wide as I took in his features - his lips were twisted in a wide, sadistic smirk, the most expression I had seen him sport all night. That smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which probably made the whole thing even scarier.

Every single bit of that fucking smile was legitimate. He knew.

“How do you…” There was no recognizing my voice with how weak it was as the words left my mouth. A sense of urgency made my heart race, my wide eyes denouncing the terror that shook my body. More than anything, I had to interrogate Craig: Force the information I needed out of him, then end his life in a torturous manner for even daring to say my name with that filthy human mouth of his.

Yet I found myself unable to even move, let alone speak. The questions I needed to ask never made their way to my vocal chords. I couldn’t ever have imagined that a simple church guy from a small town would manage what literally no other man had ever gotten even close to doing - he left me speechless.

“I have my means, (Y/N),” the way he kept that deadpan tone of his while my name rolled off of his lips once more made me shudder completely, “I don’t usually see your kind around here, though.”

“Wha-what are you talking about, priest?” I finally found it in me to roar, my face contorting in fury - though my speech still stuttered at the beginning, a tiny faltering that basically made the whole thing pointless.

“Pastor.”

His dry and almost ironic correction only fueled my anger. “Like I fucking care! Who do you think you are, you idiotic male?” 

My nails shifted into my demonic form’s claws and I tried to swipe at his face with them, but he immediately grabbed my wrist, stopping it in midair like nothing had happened. “I told you already. I’m Craig Tucker. But I guess low-levels like you need help understanding.”

The next second was a blur. With incredible speed and strength, Craig pushed me onto my back, freeing himself from under me and shoving my legs wide open as he settled between them, placing his hands over my chest and pinning me down with such inhuman strength I was sure he could crack my ribcage right open if he really wanted to. But, judging from how he stared down at me, his intentions were different - and honestly, considering what he had become, I might’ve been in less danger if he just ripped my skin open.

The man - or rather, the entity - above me wasn’t the pastor anymore. His pupils had shifted into mere slits and his once hazel eyes now blazed a vibrant red; looking straight into them, I swore I could see all the nine circles of my birthplace in their entirety, the screams of the tortured souls echoing in my brain just like they would if I was physically all the way down there. Wide coriaceous wings spread from his back, the thick and rough onyx-colored skin that covered them sporting a slight bluish hue, barely noticeable. Of similar color were the goat-type horns that now protruded from his forehead, their bases slightly covered by his shaggy bangs. A long, pointy tail swished dangerously behind him, before twisting itself around my ankles, trapping them together.

He wasn’t an incubus. Wouldn’t have been able to overpower me so easily if he was - strength through us sex demons is measured by the power we steal from a human’s life energy rather than the biological sex our vessels embody. And he could do all that after being stripped of his energy while I was supposed to be at my prime from the best feeding of my life.

No. ‘Craig Tucker’ was something much above me, more ancient even, a being who manifested Sin itself in a way I never could. And that same being knew my true name. He had the ability to do whatever the fuck he wanted to me.

Hovering over me now was the silver cross chain, like a hypnotizing pendulum, about to bring me into something I could never snap away from.

“You got what you came for, demoness. Now, it’s my turn.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[zerosconsort]

Zero's Fic Binding - Archive Anthology - Stony Volume 1

A collection of fics all written by Areiton (@areiton)

let me hear (your battle cry) | chains around my daemons | monsters of sea & sky | inspired | muse

Fandom: Marvel

Ship: Steve Rogers / Tony Stark

Start Date: 10/07/24

End Date: 11/25/24

Pages: 355

First Archive Anthology book. This is a collection of 5 of my favorite Arei Stony fics. They are all also from 2021, which I did not mean to do but just so happen to realize as I was typesetting. I wanted to start this proof of concept project with someone who I A) knew and B) would be cool with me using their fics as a test.

So, the cover. She's beautiful. For the AA series, I want the covers to be the uniform - so every Stony book will copy this cover type, but the colors will shift to blue and white for Vol 2, and then back to red and gold for Vol 3. I sketched out the Iron Man that I wanted myself and made an SVG for the first time, leave me alone, adding the swoosh marks to him and to Steve's shield. I wanted a simple, classic looking font for a universal text title. This book series wont have quotes on the back so instead I have a full spread of the graphic. Tony's the icon on the spine this time - and I think he looks great~

Ah! The side shot. I used my guillotine for the first time - so the chop on this bitch is CHRISP. Headband is gold and handstitched. The whole side profile? Crispy like fall leaves.

Title page shots. A TOC (that I only notices was a little low after I had printed both copies) with a new and customized copyright page. I looked at a bunch of pages in the Renegade Bindery discord and compiled something that felt right AND specific to this project going forward.

Typesetting this was not…bad. It did take a while while I worked out fonts and overall ideas, but ones I had them I was able to fly through. There are quite a few here, so lets take a peak...

I kept Let me hear a little simple - with more medieval drop caps and banner headers. This fic is the only one with a nontypical drop caps - but with how simple the titles were I wanted a little bit more. I also - as per my standard - did this fic first, and then started to dig down and get more complicated the further in I got.

Chains has a little more flavor - each chapter has a splash of color. Originally I had hyper detailed headers for this fic, but they just look like SO MUCH, and I couldn't figure out a way to make them look uniform with the different daemons I was showcasing. Scaling back with a flash of color, but not to much, feels much better for this fic. Also realized that I need to figure out how to trim to what my printer considerers a 'full page'.

mos&s has a little more character for the headers, where I pull peace out from each chapter to add to the title. This chapter header - and the last one - are my favorite. I used hand drawn lines to highlight under each chapter title, and pulled a color for the splash image to match with both that line and the matching line breaks in the chapters.

inspired is told from Tony's point of view - so I kept the chapter titles black and white, with harder linework and a focused idea from in each of the chapters.

In contrast, muse is told from Steve's POV - so every chapter header is an explosion of color. They're all based on a variety of art mediums - spray paint, stamp art, charcoal, oil pints, anything I could find that I remember ever doing myself. I also colored each of the drop caps a contrasting color to what the header art is.

All in all, I'm very happy with how this came out. This is the blueprint I'll use for any of my Anthology books going forward. I already have at least three more in mind for Stony specifically, and then a collection of Raven Boys and Good Omens ones that are not long enough to be a book by themselves but I still want THEM ON MY SHELVES.

Thank you again Arei - your wonderful <3 Go read Arei's fics ASAP!

[a-very-tired-jew]

Got told I'm lying again by another antisemite in my inbox. So let's take the time to learn about forensic entomology. What is forensic entomology? Well, you might also hear it called medicolegal entomology as many of the insects we look at have medical relevance as they relate to humans (there's also wildlife forensic entomology that was coined by Dr. Brundage, but we won't go into that nitty gritty detail) and the justice system. Typically when people think about forensic entomology they initially think about CSI Las Vegas and Gil Grissom, who was in part named after Dr. Neal Haskell who is one of the "godfathers" of my field. But the stuff we see in that show is exaggerated and/or completely inaccurate. This is the same for other procedural forensic shows which I'll talk about in another post. Most people are then familiar with the concept of "Time of Death". This is a common phrase that is used throughout procedurals, legal dramas, and so on. We used to develop what was called a post-mortem interval (PMI) that was usually presented as another way to determine Time of Death. However, after the 2009 NAS Report on the state of forensic science in the USA there came about some restructuring of the language we used and the development of new frameworks.

The argument goes that we don't actually develop a PMI that determines ToD because that would mean the insects are in the room immediately upon the victim's demise. While insects can show up in a matter of seconds based upon the volatiles that are released upon death, the likelihood is that minutes, hours, or even days can pass before they get access to the body and start doing what they do.

So post 09 we have the introduction of the terms minimum Post-Mortem Interval (minPMI) and maximum Post-Mortem Interval (maxPMI) that were intended to encapsulate the window of time that might have elapsed between insect oviposition and development on the corpse. This min/max method was the first framework that was put forward by entomologists such as Dr. Jeff Tomberlin and Dr. Aaron Tarone (and others), and was adopted for some time.

However, a recent development is the introduction of the term Time of Colonization (ToC) which changes the terminology from being focused on the post-mortem interval and instead focuses on when the insects arrived at the corpse itself. This term encapsulates one of the major issues that we experience in cases where a body might have been concealed in some manner that prevents insects from accessing it.

For example; if a body is frozen for some time and then thawed out, then the insects will have access to the corpse days, weeks, months, or even years after death occurred. This means that PMI or min/max-PMI that would be produced based upon their development rate would be inaccurate because they are only just getting access. ToC addresses this concern by stating that based upon the development rate and stage of the insect that the insect had access to the body and X amount of time has passed under Y environmental conditions for them to develop.

That's it.

It's not saying that insects determined Time of Death, but that they were on the body for X amount of time regardless of the body's condition and that said amount of time might coincide with a medical examiner, forensic pathologist, or coroner's report. But ToC can also help explain why there might be gaps in the timeline of events and is often used to bolster evidence in a case.

This term is being used more frequently though there is some pushback from older forensic entomologists like Dr. Haskell and Dr. Leon Higley who have testified under the original PMI framework. There is a fear that the ToC framework would undermine their work and testimony from before, but the fact of the matter is that it is just expanding and formalizing things that they would already testify to. As such, it has caused a bit of contention in the community and there has been quite a bit of headbutting amongst us for the past decade and change.

So let's stop there and if anyone has any questions I'll be happy to help. If anyone wants to peruse the 09 report that set this all off, here's the link: https://www.ojp.gov/pdffiles1/nij/grants/228091.pdf

[writinandcrying]

TMNT HEADCANON - Turtle of choice x reader (GN)

Reader’s Birthday

the first slice goes to.. / showing love through cake lol

It’s a tradition in my country to give the first slice to the person you love the most during your birthday, so here a tiny Headcanon for how the turtles would react to it!

Here a demonstration of this wholesome act, TW cute kids

Reader and TOC (turtle of choice) are still on the “crush stage”, doing with the 2003 boys cuz I’ve recently started watching the show! (I only remember bits it cuz I was pretty young when it aired lol, I love how the very beginning shows how they found out a new lair, how they met april, how they barely got any human contact before meeting her, it’s super cool and has some fresh concepts comparing to most canon narratives, if you haven’t watched the 2003 series I highly recommend it)

Anyways, let me know if you would like me to do other versions as well :) hope you guys like it, feedback is welcomed 🫶

English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar mistakes !!

Mikey

🛹 He’s deadass behaving like this after you tell him the meaning behind giving the first slice (i love this gif lol)

🛹 “AWW !! ANGELCAKES!!” Hugs you so tightly you barely have time to move the tiny slice to the nearest surface you can find, one second later the cake would have gotten smushed between you two

🛹 good luck if you have labyrinthitis, he WILL spin you around a few (at least 5) times to show how appreciative he is of the gesture

🛹 he’s not letting you go for a hot second

🛹 Sees this as an opportunity to finally kiss your cheeks, he has always wanted to but never really had a “reason” to without making things awkward, this is his perfect chance!

🛹will randomly give you kisses through out your stay

🛹 Gets addicted to it, your skin are much softer and smoother than theirs, does a mental note to give more attention to this area from now on

🛹 If you blush to his antics tho? Oh he is DONE for

🛹if you placed a microfone to his chest it would def broadcast the sickest beat

🛹 boom boom boom boom 💥

🛹Actually he will cling to you, will do anything you want or ask for, it’s your princess / prince / royalty day!

🛹 Pls confess to the poor boy lol he’s actually anticipating it now

🛹 Literally vibrating with joy, expect lots of hugs from him

🛹 Your bday will become his favorite “holiday” (yes for him it’s a holiday now )

Donnie

🔬”Cake time! “ Mikey sings out loud as he has been patiently waiting for your arrival to sing happy birthday

🔬you insist that Donnie gets the first slice tho, and he definitely reads into why you are persistent of him instead of younger brother

🔬he of course accepts it, but D keeps it quiet most of the evening, doesn’t want to put you on the spot, but he can swear he saw a faint blush adore your cheeks when you looked towards him

🔬 will ask to speak in private with you, hopefully when the “birthday commotion” dies down a bit, he definitely doesn’t want to deal with Raph’s and Mikey’s “oooooh” and “get it Donnie!” Teasing remarks

🔬He still deals with it tho, cuz I mean, brothers.

🔬 Donnie shows the reason why he pulled you over, a PowerPoint complication of several different birthday traditions around the globe he has read some before setting up the party earlier

🔬 “Isn’t it interesting?? “Totally trying to cover up his main question, did you or did you not give him the first slice? aka just said in front of EVERYONE that HE is your favorite person in the entire world?????

🔬 “one of the most wholesome ones I’ve fond was this one, apparently, I mean, if you wish to, you give the first cake slice to your- erm, to the person it means the world to you…”

🔬 “that one is pretty cute, yeah” you chuckle, looking down as his nervous hands, fidgeting with a random prototype he decided to hold it for moral support while showing of his presentation

🔬”were you.. aware of such tradition? “ Donnie finally looks towards you, searching for any indication of you confirming his suspicions, eyes shining with anticipation

🔬 “I was- I am aware of it Donnie” you smooth your hand on top of his as you caress it tenderly

🔬 literally let’s out the dorkiest giggle you have ever heard in your entire life

🔬 the “school girl / Kicking my feet” kinda giggle

🔬 cover his mouth right after he lets it out. Don is mortified, embarrassed as hell, deadass wants to crawl in a hole and die after he lets it out

🔬 Relaxes a bit after he sees you giggling as well

🔬 asks more about your birthday traditions, past birthdays memories you had to break the ice (that’s his way is being smooth)

🔬 please be noted, He does not let go of your hand, man is making his moves

🔬 but just a heads up; this moment will live rent free in his mind for MONTHS on end, for his sake (and his brothers sake as well) confess as soon as you can

Raph

🧨 says he doesn’t want it right off the bat

🧨 It’s not that he doesn’t want to accept your feelings, he actually has no ideia about this tradition whatsoever, if you have ever told him before, he definitely forgot it

🧨 Plus, I’m a firm believer most Raph’s aren’t really into sweet treats, they doesn’t want to mess with his diet or can’t handle much sugar (gym rat tendencies)

🧨 You try to empathize how special it would be for you if he accept it

🧨 you really don’t wanna say why tho, like, this is already really embarrassing as it is

🧨 just take the cake man, damn

🧨 mikey for the rescue! literally shoves the cake down his throat after Raph guarantees he doesn’t want it

🧨 Things get a bit awkward after that, you really don’t want to showcase that such a small thing had an affect on you

🧨 But there’s a tiny part of you that feels rejected, unconsciously start to shut down

🧨 Raph is extremely perspective of this, much the second youngest, he start to analyses what could have gone wrong, did something happen before you came to celebrate your birthday? Is someone bothering you? Should he teach them a lesson?

🧨 Will antagonize Donnie to check cameras around your area and work place

🧨 But it’s donn who comments about the birthday tradition

🧨 Will literally get so mad when he finds out lol

🧨 Feels SO stupid, Jesus Christ

🧨Will bark at mikey to spill the cake out, that was his slice

🧨”Dude, that was a week ago!

🧨 “I don’t care. Spill. it. out.”

🧨 “Raph, he probably already, uh- processed it out? “

🧨 “you guys are freaking disgusting, do we really have to discuss this at the dinner table?”

🧨 Will randomly show up at your place with a tiny red cake, a bit messy, but still pretty cute

🧨 “my birthday was last week, im pretty sure you were there to witness” you let out a chuckle, trying to ease out the undeniable tension in the air

🧨” this is my cake “

🧨 “ok..?”

🧨” …and I want you to have the first slice “

🧨 Oh.

🧨 OH.

🧨 oh.

Leo

🎏 Unlike his brother, Leo could never forget it

🎏He literally has a folder in his brain just for stuff you tell him

🎏Stores it like the most precious piece of information anyone has ever given him

🎏 It took him a really long time to process his feelings for you, but once he does it, he treasures every single moment he has with you

🎏 you don’t even have to say anything when he sees you holding the plate to his direction, holding a mix of surprise and yet seriousness look on his face

🎏it’s like eveything it’s suddenly in slow motion, The determination behind his eyes makes you concerned a bit

🎏”Thank you, y/n”

🎏He bows to you

🎏 His brothers have no ideia what that was but they are def crackling up a storm

🎏 “what was that????”

🎏 “Tone it down, splinter junior, it’s just a cake”

🎏 what the boys don’t see it’s you being absolutely speechless and looking like a tomato as Leo takes his slice

🎏 you are the one over-analyzing the situation here

🎏What did he meant by that bow? does he remember what you told him ages ago? He wouldnt simply just bow for a slice of cake, would he?

🎏It fuels a fire inside of you and him, both extremely aware of each others lingering touches and thoughtful gestures from now on

🎏This goes on for a while, this whole… mutual pining stage can be tricky, but when reciprocated, it’s so nice to navigate through, and honestly quite addicting

🎏 a confession won’t even be necessary, leo and you get together over thoughtful acts, your first kiss was under the mistletoe on Christmas was an easy feat, yes, it was barely a brush over eachother lips, but still just felt natural, like it was supposed to be

🎏the midnight kiss in new years was a whole other thing, hands gripping on each other, his hand holding the nape of your neck like his life depended on it, you two couldn’t get enough of each other, waiting for so long to actually make a move after the cake incident

🎏 you finally make it official on his birthday, gracing you a smile and a light peck as he gently places the slice right in front of you

[betterlivingindustriesss]

[Image Description: a fuzzy photo of white daisies and other red flowers in a glass cup END ID]

Got my physics final back today, I scored 83% despite it being one of the worst tests i have ever taken in my life!

Stayed up till twelve last night finishing up (!) the syllabus review stuff so now i'm fully ready to go, i’ll take a mock this afternoon

After i get home: wash hands, watch an episode of the bear, make a fun drink, start on the mock

After i finish the mock: go downstairs and have a snack (noodles!!!) and then grade the test

After grading the test: clean room, finish upcoming homework, final review of any concepts that weren’t crystal clear and highlight them in my notes

This is my last day of skipping dance class, i need to start getting back on track with my extracurriculars making plans for the summer

Summer goals

10k on tiktok

Post regularly on tumblr as a journal

Start photography business

go mushroom foraging

geocache with four different people

go to at least three estate sales

Write a book

make a short film

start teaching art classes and coding classes

Win a hackathon

win an art competitions

finish summer courses with full understanding of materials

fix my weird hack job of a haircut

run a 5k or a marathon

read 100 books

stay on routine and find a well-paying job

start cooking regularly

start an Acapella group

Next year's goals

Concurrently enroll for multivar

Self study ap psych and apes

Apply for a summer program for next year before everything closes again TvT

qualify for TOC in Lincoln Douglas debate and start doing some speech events on the side

attend at least four dance competitions

5.0 GPA with all a's

make at least five new friends

create and maintain an official resume

alsooo does anyone have any recommendations on matcha kits I could buy for my matcha-obsessed friend's birthday? she loves it but she only has the powder right now and i'm not sure how she prepares it

[lightninghikaru]

A parallel of Ch.13 and some of Ch.14 of "Tides of Chaos" where Sonic's family confront the pirates and attempt to rescue him but end up losing the fight:

For "Reverse Tides," maybe instead of Sonic just recognizing Shadow's crew off the bat (pun intended 😉), perhaps Shadow gets grabbed by a member he does not recognize and assumes someone is trying to kidnap Shadow again.

Naturally, this ticks off a very protective Werehog and he goes off roaring and bearing his fangs.

I do not know who you have in mind for Shadow's naval crew- asides from Rouge and Omega of course. They're his ride or die. I understand if you choose not to use your pirate OC's as they were made to be fierce and cutthroat ruffians for ToC Shadow's pirate crew. Will you be making new OC's who are all naval officers? Or perhaps Tangle and Whisper will be a part of his crew? (Whisper in RT would have probably lost The Diamond Cutters to pirates a while ago I and worse, Mimic could've sold them out like he did in the IDW Comics). Did ToC Whisper ever knew Mimic?

Maybe Mighty and Ray will join up? (Especially since they've just appeared in "Turning Tides."

Given that the concept of robots existing in the pirate AU got introduced in "Tide of Embers," perhaps Omega gets to be a robot this time. (After all he got to possess one temporarily and had a lot of fun with it).

Perhaps he was a gift given to Gerald from Ivo Robotnik so he could have a guard robot... And also Eggman may have wanted to impress his grandfather.

(I know that Eggman in "Turning Tides" is a pure evil bastard and I'm rooting for his death for what he has put poor Sonic through.

But if you want to give him the sympathetic angle he had in the third Sonic film for "Reverse Tides," than rather than have him be the evil mastermind he unknowingly becomes the pawn who thinks he's in control of everything when in fact he's being duped by the only person he genuinely respects.

Maybe after learning of Shadow's capture, Omega chooses to leave and go with Rouge and the others to save him.

When they finally find him, Omega or someone else grab him from behind him or from behind a tree. (You know the classic snatch and grab when you cover someone's mouth before dragging them away.) Cream/Tails witnessed this and started to freak out and warn Sonic of the "abduction."

Then as Shadow is trying to leave and/or explain everything to his crew, Sonic shows up (in his Werehog form most likely) and upon seeing Omega's large metallic, clawed hand wrapped firmly on Shadow's arm, he gets PISSED!

Sonic just gets in Omega's face snarling as he grabs Shadow by his other arm (but not tightly enough to hurt him) and he snatches Omega's arm applying pressure threatening to rip off his robotic arm until the robot's forced to release Shadow. The black hedgehog is then pulled behind Sonic as the naval captain tries to stop everyone from attacking!

Sonic: (growling) "Listen pal... I REALLY don't like guns..!"

I don't think it would be surprising for Sonic and his crew to have unfortunate run-ins with Eggaman or his forces. He immediately figured that Omega was just another one of his evil creations. (Which in fairness, is partially true. He was created by Ivo and while he's not evil, he's not completely good either. He's destructive and triggers happy at the most. Just like his ToC counterpart).

At the end of their story, Sonic works up the courage to apologize to Omega for the misunderstanding:

Sonic: "I'm really sorry for almost tearing your arm off. I thought you were just a dangerous robot."

Omega: "YOUR CONCERN IS VALID. I AM A VERY DANGEROUS FOE WHO IS HIGHLY DESTRUCTIVE AND PROUDLY MAINTAINS A HIGH KILL COUNT."

Sonic: "...Umm..."

Omega: "BUT YOUR APOLOGY IS ACCEPTED. ANYONE WHO IS WILLING TO PROTECT SHADOW IS AN ALLY OF MINE."

...Umm... I don't know if you plan on making a cameo for a certain lovely tenrec woman from "Tides of Chaos." (Oh Thiosa! What a beauty you truly were! You did not deserve your fate!)

I understand if she doesn't as she was mean't for the mysterious Chaos Born lore.

It's ironic in a twisted sense. Poor girl was menaced by werewolves when trying to run away for the final time. Now somewhere in another AU an alternate variant of her son ends up in a loving relationship with a Werehog...

If she somehow ends up in the RT AU, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to become a monster hunter after going through a similar situation. Only this time to be lucky enough to escape with her life and her sense of self. It would cause a lot of conflict but eh, you know these things work out. You could go with the Long-lost mother/Long-lost son angle for part 2 of the series and although Shadow doesn't know her or recognize her the instant thier eyes meet, boom! A connection is made. Maybe Thiosa tries to keep silent because in her mind she's keeping Shadow safe. But of course, there's a lonely, vulnerable part of her that can't resist. So she subtly tries to be around him by asking random questions that aren't necessary or important but it keeps Shadow around long enough. Shadow doesn't know why he even bothers to answers questions that he would normally deem a waste of his time, but... He's drawn to Thiosa for some reason.

"Sunsets create tall Shadows..."

That would be a banger line don't ya think!

Okay, there's a lot so let me go over your questions:

Will you be making new OC's who are all naval officers?

No, For ease of not having to make more OC's I will be using those of the Final Hazard crew, they will just be regular Mobians instead.

Will Tangle and Whisper be part of his crew?

Maybe? Or they might be Bounty Hunters ;)

Did ToC Whisper ever knew Mimic?

No she did not But perhaps in Reverse Tides

Maybe Mighty and Ray will join up?

I haven't decided what Mighty and Rey will be doing. Maybe they will be a part of Team Chaotix since that's the path people believe Darkness is heading lol

I absolutely love this idea that Omega was a gift to Gerald to show off his capabilities and Omega hates that.

Oh ho! I have ideas as to Sonic's beef with Eggman, but that would spoil the surprise!

Thiosa will be Shad's Mom once again, it's not going to be a happy one for sure but I like the concept that she's a monster hunter. (let's just say TOC Thiosa might have been better off...)

"Sunsets create tall Shadows..."

That is such a banger line like dang!

[thoughtfulobservationcollection]

out of order. march 2025. I'm in the mood for this right now

[miss-biophys]

My artistic side is not lost in the world of science!

My art featuring antibiotics that slow down or dissolve domains in bacteria membranes was selected as the cover of the latest Nano Letters issue! The cover art combines hand-drawn bacteria and 3D rendered atomic force microscopy images of bacteria membranes.

My process of drawing and shading the coccus bacteria:

And the final cover:

I had a great time thinking about the concept of this cover, drawing the bacteria, making the 3D bacteria membrane views from my AFM data, and putting everything together. It was a great creative work, although it was under a stressful deadline for the manuscript resubmission including the cover art suggestion.

The Nano Letters issue and the article here: https://pubs.acs.org/toc/nalefd/24/38

[nacho-calamity]

(Spoilers for the Negaduck comics) My thoughts on Mega-Negaduck:

This is just a big ol' opinion dump post to empty my brain, nothing all that important.

Having read the rest of the Negaduck comics (so far) gotta admit, Mega-Negaduck was a huge let down. 😓

This guy was the entire reason I was so eager to finish the series, because I had seen him on the issue 8 cover, and as the resident enjoyer of robot-replica antagonists, this ofc had my interests piqued.

On paper, “Robot copy of Negaduck” admittedly is a slightly odd concept. (An evil lookalike of the evil lookalike?) but I was still hopeful he would be cool, his character design actually does look pretty rad imo, so I had my hopes up! His design vaguely reminded me of Toc-Man from pac-man world, (a character who the more I thought about it, did actually bare a lot of similarities to Negaduck in personality), so in my mind I was envisioning something similar to that, which had me excited.

Alas, he didn’t deliver. :/

Ok, first let down. He's not even like a "sentient" machine...he's more like an Alexa/siri thing? Like, an A.I. but not one that really "thinks" he's not really a character? Honestly, he was basically just like chatGPT but for evil schemes, Just "Mega-Negaduck, plan me a bank heist" essentially is his purpose. Which while not as cool as him being a character, did bring me a few laughs, because (idk if this was intentional or not) he ended up feeling like a critique/satire of Generative AI? XD (Negs complains about how he can only just barely imitate his work, but without any of the creative thought behind it, and he complains about how "lazy and uncreative" the league of villains are for relying on this stupid robot to think for them. I'm dying guys, the allegory of Negs as a frustrated creative continues. Just like me fr fr-) That had me thoroughly amused tbh. Love me some roasting of AI slop! >:D So I was able to get over him not being "Negaduck meets metal sonic" and just accept him as a fun little spoof character. He had some value as a parody.

Then the "twist" hit. Apparently, this bot basically doesn't do anything, and it's just the mad scientist character making the robot say whatever she wants it to?? Whu-HUH??? It doesn't even like...generate schemes the way I thought it did, it's just basically a glorified puppet?? So now he doesn't even have the AI spoof thing going for him, he's just like...a really overdesigned glorified ventriloquist puppet. wow, so cool/j I try not to be so critical of other people's writing, because I am no professional, and am extremely inexperienced with writing myself, but you don't have to be a chef to not like a dish, so I'm giving my two cents here regardless. This "twist" felt like it was arbitrarily put here because "hey wouldn't it be cool if we did a twist" and not because it needed to be there or adds anything of substance. They just kinda throw this tidbit in randomly at the last millisecond, and I have no clue what it's supposed to add. It actually made the comic less enjoyable to me personally, because Mega-Negaduck got reduced to being...basically nothing, for...what reason exactly? Because they wanted a twist I suppose.

Gonna be real, I'd have preferred if they went the Super predictable route, and just had Mega-Negs gain sentience and rebel against his creators and fight Negs. Predictable, sure. But infinitely more entertaining? Definitely!

Honestly, I'm sad they did this boy dirty by NOT doing something actually cool with him. Waste of a perfectly good character design!! Look at him!! >:0

(I'm still tempted to draw him, ngl. He looks very, very cool cannot deny)

Sorry for the opinion dump, and I mean no disrespect towards the writers, I'm just one opinionated person on the internet whose words don't really mean more than anyone else's here, so if you liked this arc than cool, zero hate, personally I just felt let down. (Especially after how much I liked the first ones.)

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Thoughts on Kris x Ralsei, continued

(this is a continuation of my first post on this subject, creatively titled Thoughts on Kris x Ralsei. The parts all build upon each other, so it's best to read from the beginning. Here's a little TOC so you can get up to speed:

Part 1: And They Lived Happily Ever After Part 1.5: I Believe Your Choices DO Matter Part 2: A Pair of Star-Cross'd Lovers <- (You Are Here!) Part 2.5: In Another World, We Could Have Been (Just) Friends (Future parts to be added as they are written))

(Please be aware that this series will go over topics including coercion, non-consentual romance, and an observation pertaining to potential incestual undertones. If any of this makes you uncomfortable in any way, please proceed with caution. Thank you)

Part 2: A Pair of Star-Cross'd Lovers

Kris Dreemurr is doomed the instant the player assumes control of them.

If Undertale is a game about how your choices can affect the world, then Deltarune is about how sometimes, your choices mean absolutely nothing. Fate grinds on, irrespective of your wishes. Onward you march, towards your ultimate destiny.

This concept features heavilly in a lot of RPGs - the idea that the protagonist is the "chosen one" who will save the world, which due to the constrains of narrative and gaming, is what ends up happening 95% of the time. Much like the Knight and Princess dynamic I discussed in the previous part, this trope is so heavily ingrained in the gaming psyche that we do tend to accept it when it happens,as part and parcel of the RPG experience.

This very familiar setup is where Kris and Susie find themselves upon meeting Ralsei, who waxes lyrical about the very Non-Specific-and-Light-on-Any-Identifying-Details Legend. They are told that the balance of light and dark is being disrupted and a "terrible calamity (will) occur", are shown some apocalyptic imagery, three heroes who are identified by their race/species (and not their name - a detail which may become important later on), who will stop something nefariously dubbed the "Angel's Heaven". It is Prophecy 101, the most barebones framing for a quest you can imagine... but hey, the game needs a hook, doesn't it? Some grand stakes to get the ball rolling.

And so, the roles are doled out: Kris is the human, the unwavering leader; Susie is the no-nonsense contrarian who doesn't really care much for concepts of fate and determinism, and Ralsei is the exposition fairy, doing his best to keep his comrades on the path he has set out for them.

Ok, cool. But where does Kralsei fit into this? Well, in Part 1 and 1.5 of this series of posts, I brought up how Deltarune goes to great lengths to bring the idea of this pairing to prominence... but I didn't really talk about why the game is doing this. And the answer is, because it ties in with Deltarune's central theme of destiny and determinism. Or to put it another way:

Your Choices Don't Matter.

And here, you might protest. Because surely when the game says that, it's only refering to Kris's choices, right? We, as players, can choose from different dialogue options, we can choose to FIGHT or SPARE our adversaries. More fundamentally, we are the ones in control of Kris's movements and actions, while they are almost entirely powerless to fight our influence (note how I say almost - this will be important later).

But think for a moment about the choices we are given as players, and ask yourself - what meaningfully changes as a result of our actions? In Chapter 1, it doesn't matter whether we fight or spare anyone, they'll all return regardless in Chapter 2, with a single line of dialogue added as a handwave to explain why. And while Chapter 2 gives us a little more say in this - we can lose potential recruits to Castle Town by fighting rather than sparing, and they won't turn up in Ralsei's dark world at the end - the main points of the story do not meaningfully change to reflect this.

(there are, of course, things that we CAN do to change things in a pretty big way *coughSnowgravecough* but given that the means to achieve this are rather well-hidden, and it involves doing some very, VERY messed up things in pursuit of it, we can consider it an exception that proves the rule - technically your choices CAN have consequences, but those consequences are so horrific that you're probably better off not choosing in the first place.)

Okay, sure, you say. But this doesn't apply to the interpersonal relationships in Deltarune, now does it? If we don't want Kralsei to happen, then we simply don't choose any of the options that hint at it. That much must be in our power, surely?

To which I have one riposte: the Acid Tunnel of Love.

Brief overview of this sequence: Kris and Ralsei are tasked with "distracting" Queen while Susie and Berdly go to rescue Noelle. Literally on the next screen, the only way to proceed is across a giant river of acid, atop a swan pedallo, while soft carnival-style music plays in the background. Partway through, Ralsei has a heart-to-heart with Kris/the player, Rouxls Kaard does what he does best, and a photo may or may not be taken at the end.

You don't get to choose not to do this (unless you do that other thing which we're not discussing here). This just happens. And it's difficult to get away from the fact that this entire scenario is dripping with romantic undertones, especially when it's contrasted directly afterwards with Susie and Noelle's equally-romantically-charged Rescue and Ferris Wheel ride.

But then, perhaps it's a parody. A funny contrivance that sends up the absurdity of Kralsei by comparing it to a romantic pairing with actual weight, Suselle. But there are two problems with this; the first is that if we write off this scene as parody, then we must also do the same with the ferris wheel, because they both operate under the same logic - they're both based on a massive contrivance.

The second problem is that Ralsei doesn't seem to have got that memo. And no matter how you respond to his questions, the scene will end with his admiration for Kris strengthened. There is NO dialogue option you can select which will dissuade him from his feelings.

Exhibit A: calling Ralsei a lackey will have him cheerfully exclaim "Ooh, I've never been somebody's lackey before!" (because he's a darkner, that's literally what he was designed to be). Exhibit B: saying "It's strange" has Ralsei write off his question as, erm, "sarcasm". Which would perhaps be read as a rebuttal, except that his understanding of social situations is so minimal that he might genuinely believe he's committed a serious faux pas here, rather than interpret the response as a rejection. It also doesn't change his follow-up response, either. Exhibit C: Saying nothing when he says "it's good that you're you" has him laugh at how "Kris-like" not saying anything is, before saying that he "[likes] you-like things".

Cue Ralsei haters throwing their hands up in exasperation.

Contrast again with Susie and Noelle's scene. Here, too, we're presented with options to influence how things will happen. But the crucial difference is, we have absolutely zero sway over Susie, and she will always choose to say and do her own things. Here, too, we are powerless to intervene, but in a more direct way, whereas with Kralsei, even though we CAN choose an option, none of them make a difference to the scene or its outcome. This serves to show just how much agency Susie actually possesses, and is a stark contrast to Kris's severe lack of agency... as well as our own.

What does that mean, exactly? Well, consider this: Susie is free to make her own decisions, up to and including choosing NOT to pursue Noelle romantically. Kris, on the other hand, has no such freedom, and thus cannot choose to opt out of entering into a relationship with Ralsei. And, as I have alluded to a few times, neither can we, despite what our own feelings on the situation might be.

And thus we come to the title of this part - Kris and Ralsei are Star-Crossed. No reference to this line is made in Deltarune as of present, but it has numerous connotations which I believe are relevant to these two characters. Firstly, the idea that their connection is destined to occur - it's written in the stars, woven into the game's literal architecture. As such, there is nothing that anyone can do to stop it from happening - not Ralsei, who probably would be quite thrilled with it, not the player, who try as they might cannot influence it either way, and certainly not Kris, who is almost entirely unable to voice their own desires. We are each as powerless as each other in this instance.

Secondly, the idea that this destined relationship, no matter what form it might take, is doomed to end in tragedy. From the reaction to the various teas, we can infer that Kris is lukewarm on Ralsei at best (this may change as future chapters are released, but it's not exactly a ringing endorsement). And as time goes on, it becomes increasingly apparent that Ralsei is likely labouring under a false notion of who Kris actually is, and has fallen for the idea of Kris that he has conjured up in his own head, rather than the genuine article.

But the problem is more fundamental still, for if we understand the prophecy correctly, light and dark must be in balance - they cannot mix. That means no new dark fountains, which means that Ralsei can never manifest anywhere as a darkner once the events of the game are concluded. This would of course preclude any sort of interpersonal connection, romantic or otherwise. The best that could be hoped for in such a scenario is that Ralsei returns to whichever object he represents in the light world and Kris keeps him around as a memento.

This all assumes a great deal, of course - Kris's stance on Ralsei may well change, and for all we know Ralsei is more than likely very aware that we exist separately from Kris, as evidenced by his clandestine conversations with Kris while we see what Susie's up to. Additionally, it is entirely possible that Ralsei has instead fallen for US through Kris, which presents... additional complications. More on that later.

All of this leads us back to the central conceit of Deltarune: Our choices do not matter. Nothing we say, nothing we do, can change what is going to happen. We don't know exactly where this is going to go, whether they will fall into a full-on romance, or if they become something more akin to queerplatonic partners, or good friends, or something like siblings, or perhaps even mortal enemies. But one thing is for sure - Deltarune is going to continue cramming Kralsei down our throats, whether we like it or not.

...okay, think I best stop there for now. And look, I know I haven't really gone too much into the why of all this just yet. But patience - much of the past few essays have been establishing the groundwork - the what and the how, if you like. I'n Part 3, I'll attempt to go over what I believe the Narrative (i.e. the game) is trying to accomplish with Kralsei - what it's trying to say about games, stories, romance, and how we can be manipulated into endorsing a potentially problematic relationship, irrespective of the wishes of the vessel we control.

Thanks for reading!

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 60)

Prologue/TOC | Previous (59) | Next (61)

Content Warning: Nudity, vular language, vore themes

Word Count: 2.6k

------ Chapter 60: Shrinking ------

“Huh?” Ronny balked. 

“Well, either you or me. One of us will have to shrink,” Bianca continued. 

“But… what will that accomplish?” Ronny asked, baffled. He glanced down at Eren, who seemed just as confused. 

“We can’t give the potion to him directly. We can’t use weapons or poison. But… we can use ourselves as a poison. Even if Chester detects our scent in the food, I doubt he’ll figure it out or view it as a hostile agent. We'll allow the king to eat one of us and infiltrate his body, and then wait until the shrinking effect wears off and grow back to normal size. He won’t survive that.” 

Ronny was stunned. “Are—are you INSANE? That’s your plan?” 

Bianca crossed her arms and pouted. “You have a better idea?” Ronny frowned. 

Eren cleared her throat to get the attention of the two arguing behemoths above her. “Princess, how are you going to convince your father to eat one of you? Won’t he recognize you?” 

Bianca grinned. “Not if we shrink too small to be noticed.” 

Ronny paled. “You are insane.” Being eaten was terrifying enough, but to be the size of a speck of dust in front of a sadistic monster like King Richard sounded like a living nightmare. If he was discovered, the consequences would be fatal. “Is that even possible?” 

Bianca’s grin faded. “I don’t know, to be honest. Only one way to find out.” She held up the potion. “I… I guess since it’s my idea, I’ll try it…” She hesitated, twirling the bottle in her fingers. She couldn’t deny that the concept was scary. So much could go wrong. 

Ronny gulped. He feared his father, but he feared losing Tanya even more. His placed his hand firmly over his sister’s. “I’ll do it,” he reassured her. She relinquished the bottle to her brother with relief. He popped the cork out and brought the potion up to his lips, but couldn’t bring himself to drink it. His hand trembled. Stalling, he instead inquired, “how am I going to make it into his…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Into his dinner?” 

“If this potion really works,” Eren piped up, “and you shrink tiny enough for me to smuggle you into the kitchen, you can accompany me to his plate. Bucky has a vendetta against me, so he always serves me to the king, since he’s always the worst option out of you three. No offense.” 

“Ah.” Ronny licked his lips nervously and sat down on the bed. He brought the potion up to his mouth a second time and stopped, staring down at the glowing green liquid with trepidation. He thought about Tanya. “Welp. Here goes nothing.” Before he could change his mind, he downed the whole bottle like a shot. His heart palpitated madly as he waited for the effects to kick in. Bianca and Eren stared at him intently. 

He didn’t have to wait long. The potion spread like wildfire from his center out to his extremities, prickling him all over like the quills of a porcupine.  He squirmed and groaned and balled up with pain. His body crumbled like paper, folding smaller and smaller inward on itself. Grisly cracks rang out from his shoulders, hips, and knees, as well as squishing and popping internally as his organs rearranged themselves. Ronny gasped and panted, struggling to breathe through the warped contortions of his muscles and bones. His vision went dark. 

When the pain finally ceased, he unfolded his limbs and cracked open his eyes, but found himself smothered by heaps of heavy blankets. He was in a world completely foreign to him. He strained and struggled wildly to escape the fabric prison constraining him, until he burst into the light and sucked in a lungful of fresh air. 

Ronny squinted, not comprehending at first what his eyes were feeding him. He was standing on a checkerboard of threads thicker in diameter than his leg. He caught movement in his peripheral vision and snapped to attention. He was shocked to behold a naked giantess, looming over him as big as a castle. He craned his neck back, mouth agape, and blinked rapidly.  

“Look at that,” the giantess boomed. Ronny flinched at the volume. A huge hand descended over him, casting a dreadful shadow, and a stab of fear slammed into his chest. Out of pure instinct, he turned and fled, tripping awkwardly over the crosshatched threads. He shrieked when two immense fingers pinched around him, compressing his torso. His legs wiggled wildly as the floor disappeared beneath him and he ascended into open space. 

“Let go of me!” he cried. He whimpered as a massive smirking face hovered in front of him. He couldn’t believe the horror unfolding before him. This was the human, the tiny creature that could easily fit into the hollow of his hand, blown up to colossal proportions. So what did that make him? Little more than a dust mite.  

“Not very nice, is it? To be given a dose of your own medicine?” Eren teased with a mocking grin. Ronny squeezed his eyes shut, unable to respond. He was hyperventilating and shaking convulsively. Eren tempered her smugness as she recognized just how overwhelmed the prince was at his new size. As fun as it was to ridicule the giant who had tormented her previously, she knew he was trying to make a change and do the right thing, and she respected his resolve. 

“Hey, hey, I was just kidding around,” she murmured in a more soothing tone, wrapping both her hands around him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” She was amazed to hold a tiny life, a tiny person, in her hand. She could feel his microscopic heart beating with fear against her fingers. The giant, once mighty and proud, was now so vulnerable and small—cute, even. Was this how Joey felt when he held her? Eren grew warm at the thought. Ronny struggled to calm down and catch his breath. He needed to be brave for Tanya. 

“DO YOU HAVE RONNY? I CAN’T EVEN SEE HIM,” a vast voice bellowed from above, thrumming through the air with a physical force that nearly blew out his eardrums. Ronny yipped and gazed up, speechless. His sister was unfathomably massive, beyond his capacity to rationalize or even see her fully, like a planet with her own gravitational pull. Her hand lowered, darkening the landscape of the bed like the night sky, before leviathan fingers scooped up the smaller giantess, and the hand transformed into a great sea of skin below. Ronny figured he could hike through the ridges of her palm like canyons. The mental image made him physically ill. 

“He’s here,” Eren assured Bianca, holding up her hand with Ronny perched within. The prince’s stomach lurched and dropped to the floor as the bigger platform of flesh and bone underneath Eren raised at a rate that flattened him. He collected himself and gazed up into a panorama of hazel, intricately woven with verdant vines of various shades. A great black void in the middle, large enough to engulf him, contemplated him with endless fascination.  

“OH! THERE HE IS,” the goddess’s voice blasted, knocking him down. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. “OH, SORRY.” 

“You should take us back to the kitchen,” Eren suggested. “Dinner will be here soon.” Bianca nodded. Ronny could feel the gesture, the displacement of the air around him, even though his eyes were shut. The giantess began to walk, and the strides rocked him chaotically, much like the motions of a ship in turbulent waters. He hoped he wouldn’t get seasick. 

Bianca worried for her older brother, now smaller than a gnat, but the smoldering flames within her carried her forward on the path to revenge. She dripped some anti-digestion potion on Eren and Ronny on the way to the kitchen, smothering her brother in a droplet large enough for him to swim in. She avoided Bucky as she snuck into the kitchen, since she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Chef Cruor was hanging out in the corner, holding Addison and fawning over her, so the princess slunk over to him and tapped him on his bulky shoulder. 

“What?” the chef snapped, cranking his head back while shielding Addison protectively with his body. His clothes, clearly too tight on his bulging frame, stretched taut against his fat rolls, with the buttons threatening to pop off. His skin resembled lumps of raw pizza dough packed on all over his body, particularly on his pudgy face. When he realized he was speaking to the princess, he turned all the way around and began to grovel with an apology. 

“None of that now,” Bianca interrupted, leveraging her regal authority. “Just put this human away for me, please.” She handed Eren off to the chef and briskly walked out before he could question her any further. 

Chef Cruor, seeking above all to keep Addison safe, didn’t protest. He dropped Eren carelessly into her glass cell and left. Eren sat cross-legged while hiding Ronny in her clasped hands. She could feel how scared he was, with his constant trembling and his tiny heart racing. She wished to comfort him, but she didn’t want to raise any suspicions. She couldn’t help but marvel at every miniscule shift of his teeny arms and legs. The sensation was like holding a bug, but one that was soft and fleshy, lacking spikes or chitin. Her lingering resentment towards the prince dissolved into a more generous sympathy. She knew all too well how it felt to be small and powerless in the hands of another. She petted him gently with her thumb. 

Before long, it was time for dinner. Bucky lumbered over to Eren’s cage and snatched her up in his beefy fist. Eren squirmed in a convincing show of resistance, but she was careful not to squish the miniature prince in her own smaller fist. 

“Ready for another fine evening of pleasing our glorious king?” Bucky jeered, giving Eren a mean-spirited squeeze. He dunked her into an ocean of pasta headfirst. Eren quickly stashed Ronny inside one of the rigatoni noodles so he wouldn’t get squashed as she struggled to resurface. 

“Screw you, fatass!” she screamed up at Bucky. He leered at her before shoving her back down with his pointer finger and sending her off to the dining room. Eren sank down into the heavy top layer of gooey cheese and marinara sauce. Normally, she’d be furious, but now she was just anxious. 

“Ronny, are you doing okay?” she whispered to him. The veil of cheese obscured them both from the giant servant. 

“Y-y-yeah,” Ronny squeaked, shuddering hard. He wiped sauce off his face, disgusted and frightened after being stuffed into a gigantic plate of food. “My first order as king will be to fire that son of a bitch.” 

Eren cackled. “Hell yeah.” She frowned and went quiet as they entered the dining room. The servant set down the plate with a clunk and backed off. Ronny peered out from his pasta haven and experienced a terrible jolt. 

Under normal circumstances, he’d be ashamed to admit that he was afraid of his father. He’d only confessed such an embarrassing secret to Tanya, in a touching moment of vulnerability and pain. That normal dread, however, was completely eclipsed by the sheer terror that he encountered upon witnessing that horrible, dreadful, dangerous man scaled up to an impossible size. He was practically his own living country at these dimensions. Ronny could clearly see all the nasty little details that were imperceptible or unremarkable before, from a chip on the side of his tooth to the subtle wrinkles of his face, now like cracks in an embankment. Ronny almost pissed himself with fright.  

“WHERE’S RONNY?” the galactic giant thundered. Ronny had to harness all his willpower not to yelp. He recoiled into the pasta pipe with dread. He couldn’t let King Richard find him. His father would be delighted to torture him, when he was no bigger than a crumb. He’d seen enough humans suffer the same fate. He would toy with him, torment him, roll him around in his fingers, hurt him, squash him. Place him inside his mouth, bite down on him, taste him—perhaps even swallow him. 

Eat him! This man, this enormous hungry giant, was going to eat him! Even if he wasn’t discovered, he would be consumed unaware with his dinner, lost inside the labyrinthine guts of that foul, wretched, stinking, hulking mountain of flesh! Ronny just about lost his nerve, petrified by the thought. He realized with horror that he was trapped. He couldn’t escape even if he changed his mind. He was infinitesimal, but the giant would still perceive activity with the astute eye of a predator as he sprinted across the table. Just trekking to the edge of the plate, through a sticky, steamy swamp of sauce and cheese, would be a herculean feat in his diminished state. Ronny let out a frightened little whine before clamping his hands over his mouth. He needed to be quiet. 

From across the table, miles away from Ronny’s perspective, Bianca’s voice resounded back, “HE’S SICK. HE NEEDED TO REST, SO HE RETIRED TO HIS ROOM.” 

Hardon narrowed his eyes and grunted with dissatisfaction, but said nothing further. Ronny wanted to disappear, to be rid of this nightmare that was his life. As regret and panic flooded his mind in a feverish haze, he caught a ripple beneath the king’s silken garment, just below his collar. His heart stopped. Tanya. She was there, pressed to the giant’s mammoth chest. 

Ronny’s panic was calmed, replaced by a simmering anger. Tanya. He was doing this, not for Bianca, not for the kingdom, not even for himself—for Tanya. He needed to save Tanya, at all costs. He exhaled an unsteady breath and slowed his galloping heart. Clarity was restored. His misery and pain didn’t matter, so long as Tanya could be rescued from that devil. 

His calm was merely a momentary beat, for his heart rate spiked again as Chester approached. The giant loomed high above with a terrible foreboding that chilled Ronny’s blood. He was the gatekeeper, the final arbiter of their fates. Ronny could only hope that his scent wouldn’t arouse suspicion. The giant bent down over the plate, sniffing intently. The prince held his breath with suspense. Chester’s eyebrows knitted together with confusion and concern. He inhaled deeply through his nose.  

Ronny collapsed and scrambled out of sight into the noodle cavern. The piece of pasta he was hiding in was pierced with massive prongs of metal, then lifted. Ronny was electrified with raw panic. All at once, everything was going horrendously wrong. If Chester smelled him, they would lose. If Chester failed to detect him, he’d be sent to the wrong digestive tract, and they’d be screwed. 

Ronny was paralyzed, not to mention glued down by strings of cheese in the pasta, as an enormous green iris focused in on him from the noodle’s inlet. Ronny held on to hope, for the briefest snapshot in time, that he was too small to be seen, or that he’d be mistaken for a bit of seasoning. Maybe he could slip out at the last second, before being engulfed in Chester’s mouth. His momentary hope was stamped out as the giant’s eye widened with recognition. Their plan had catastrophically failed. 

Chapter 61

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