♠ hated by @affableCantor
yeah ill call that a vwrap, i kinda wvanna rush through these boring match-ups. surprise surprise, aranea beat the lady nobody knovws in the #cronusbabeoff. shocker. bye dollie, better luck next time. er, hmm. actually im feeling a lil bad for her, giwven vwho she vwent against and wvhos running the thing... wvell! aranea movwes on! next up, novw heres an interesting one. porrim maryam vws. jane crocker! this is a high seed against lovw, but i think it could be anyones game. porrim has the ravw sex appeal and charisma, but janes been established on this site for a vwhile, just look through the "adored" tab dovwn there and youll see plenty of her cleawvage. i might havwe to let this one run a wvhile if its close. wvote belowv, as usual, for wvhich babe is hottest. #suggestiwve #nsfwv? <3 or <> for porrim <3< or c3< for jane
lookin forwward to unleashin indescribable vviolence upon the sord coast alongside assassin badbitch and crushin our mutual foes underfoot the wwizard guides the laughssassins flail or howwevver the old sayin goes rest assured that if i evver degrade myself such that i spare a combatants life its so that you can sneak up from behind and bash their fuckin skulls in wwith your funny bell on a chain thing #helpful #niceidan #enabling
BEHOLD. THE MIRTHFUL AND LOATHSOME. 「ASSASSIN BADBITCH.」 THE SOON TO BE RENOWNED LAUGHSSASSIN. EXPELLED FROM THE MUMMERY (CLOWN NUNNERY). FOR BEING A LITTLE TOO. SHALL WE SAY. “ART THE CLOWN.” FOR THE SETTING AND TIME PERIOD. TO WHICH SHE BELONGS. SHE WILL BE APPEARING. IN LAIRS AND LUSII. ALONGSIDE SUCH ESTEEMED CHARACTERS. AS SORCERER HIGHTIER (@CALIGULASAQUARIUM). MAGICIAN FAUNLOVE NATURALS (@AFFABLECANTOR). AND. NO DOUBT. COUNTLESS OTHER AMUSING FREAKS. THOUGH NONE SO AMUSING. AS MY SILLY LITTLE CLOWN ROGUE. I NEVER PAID MUCH ATTENTION. WHEN KURLOZ WAS EXPLAINING RELIGION. SO I WILL BE MAKING MOST OF IT UP. DON’T COME FOR ME. CLOWNS IN MY COMMENTS. I GO TO THE HIGH HOLY RAVES. IT’S JUST A LOT OF BOOKS. AND I ONLY CARE ABOUT THE PARTS WHERE I SHOW UP. GOMEN.
https://forms.gle/2w9FseGAoHseZEcN7 QUESTION: So you have the apple bottom jeans? Perhaps some boots with the fur to go along with them? And have you ever gotten "low" while wearing them? ANSWER: I did promise to deliver. Pardon me if I retain my vertical integrity on camera, though. I won't be getting "low" on demand.
dodge t)(e t)(reats every way you can until you cant until i'm t)(ere.
slur tier list (not comprehensivve feel free to collaborate in the replies) S - faygocel (coined by @caligulaAscendit) / finless / drowwner / dirtsniffer / gutterblood (a classic. evveryone knowws this one) / gillslut A - assblood / scumblood / cronus / clodhopper / B - pissblood / shitblood / foulblood / bucket fondler / peasantblood / brinesucker C - swwillblood / rusty / limey / fudgeblood / snotblood / mustardblood / mudcrawwler / scumsucker / saltlick D - wwader / chumbucket / cavviar
Welcome to the Sord Coast, @caligulasAquarium, @handMaid, @deathlessDeadwood, @glamorousAuspiciar, @glitteringAcuity, @affableCantor, and @timaeusTestified#0414. All other #LAIRSANDLUSII Player Applicants are in reserves for one shots. This is a malformed and deeply suspicious continent resting somewhere west of civilization, east of reason, and directly beneath the gaze of several actively malicious stars. It is host to doomed kingdoms, irresponsible wizardry, overfunded churches, hereditary violence, prophetic nonsense, and of course, monsters with distressingly specific emotional needs. Its peoples are varied and all equally terrible. Humans sharpen swords they cannot lift. Sea-dwelves run criminal empires from seafood restaurants. Purplebloods host traveling revival circuses that qualify as small forms of government. Jadeblood druids continually attempt to solve ecological collapse using bisexual polycules, moss, and the occasional jamboree. This campaign is semi-serious. Which is to say that my narrative, worldbuilding, and emotional stakes are all real. However, you are players. Ergo, I expect you to lay into absurdism, interpersonal drama, catastrophic violence, emotional sincerity tied up in irony, and the occasional moments of horror. This is inspired by our combined experiences of SGRUB, SBURB, and life itself. This much you know from the primer. You are not entering a campaign in the traditional sense. That word is too clean. Too martial. Too eager to promise that someone, somewhere, knows what they are doing. You are entering a Session. Its rules have been assembled from bad maps, old grudges, misread prophecies, dead gods, worse living ones, and the awful instinct that convinces otherwise sensible people to open a door because the growling on the other side has become narratively compelling. I will serve as your Session Guardian. This does not quantify myself as an enemy. I am the one holding the lantern, the knife, the Game Grimoire, the Minion Manual, and the small porcelain cup from which I will sip whilst you explain why your character should be allowed to renegotiate zoning rights to make hallowed land a commercial district. You are Hero Players. You may not necessarily be heroes, but it is the title given by the mechanism of the game. Simply put, this means the session has noticed you. Some invisible mechanism has turned its attention in your direction and begun making noise. Your choices may acquire symbolic weight. Your mistakes will develop into motifs. Your bad ideas will have teeth. This is considered the beginning of an adventure, but it is really a warning sign. The Sord Coast does not have a healthy relationship with destiny. Most continents have a founding myth. The Sord Coast has several, all mutually hostile, all partially true, and all somehow legally binding. Every ruined tower is a footnote in an argument nobody living remembers. Every noble family is a hereditary Status Affliction with dinner manners. Every church is either hiding a miracle, laundering one, feeding one in the basement, or attempting to invoice the gods for services rendered. There are kings here, though few deserve the term. There are saints, though most were canonized by committees with weapons. There are wizards who should have been stopped during adolescence. There are knights who believe strongly in honor, which is usually a polite way of saying they own armor and have not yet been contradicted by anyone with a shovel. You will find yourself undertaking Land Objectives for consorts, witches, fishmongers, pirates, druidic councils, cathedral bureaucrats, criminal families, ghosts, lusii, petty gods, wounded monsters, suspicious grubs, and at least on individual who is clearly lying. Some questlines will seem important. Some trivial. Some will reveal after sessions of mockery that they have quietly been the central plot of the story. The spine of it all. This is not a flaw in the session. This is how stories behave when left unattended. You will carry your sylladex. You will have a strife deck. Even if you insist on calling it a sword, staff, bow, frying pan, pistol, haunted umbrella, or emotionally significant brick. It will be your most valued tool. You will gain Boondollars, you will suffer in your vitality. You will attain afflictions. You will role to enter the ideal timelines. You will roll Perfect Timeline Hits at the worst possible moment and immediately waste them on nonsense. You will roll Critical Timeline Failures in moments where dignity would have been convenient. This, too, is tradition. There will be Strife Encounters. There will be Lair Progressions. There will be Terminal Strifes. There will be underlings, elite underlings, Denizens, and things that should be monsters but are either objects of pity, attraction, or professional curiosity. I have already accepted that some creature may become a recurring cast member despite his ER being 0.125. I resent this only slightly. The tone of this Session is gothic absurdist adventure. You are encouraged to take your characters seriously, but not yourselves. You are encouraged to joke, scheme, flirt, mourn, grandstand, confess, lie, apologize poorly, make threats you cannot back up, and occasionally realize that the bit has become more emotionally honest than the scene it interrupted. Expect horror, and jokes, and sincerity while accepting solemnity, a lack of safety, and stupid hats. This is a world where a clown sermon may conceal a coup, where a seafood restaurant may serve as the front for a sea-dweller crime syndicate, where a moss-covered polycule may genuinely be the last line of defense against ecological collapse, and where a noble duel may be interrupted because the ancestral ghost has notes about everyone’s posture. Absurdity is not the opposite of seriousness here. It is the native dialect of the type of seriousness I indulge in. Your pre-entry histories are also to be indulged in. They will matter sincerely. Backgrounds exist as far more than the decorative lace pinned to a player profile to make you seem more appealing. It is a loaded mechanism. Haunted paperwork in the background of your diligence to be consulted whenever introducing a concept. Each NPC in your background sits dangling by a thread as the villains toss knives in the air, hoping to snag dear old GRANDMACRAB. If you give me a hometown, I will endanger it. If you give me a sibling, I will complicate them. If you give me a rival, I will make them competent. If you give me a god, I will make them answer. If you give me a dead parent, I will decide how loudly the grave can speak. If you give me nothing, I will assume the absence was intentional, and I will ask what kind of person becomes interesting without knowing what abandoned them. This is my narrative hospitality. The Sord Coast is full of people who would like to be mistaken for the Primary Terminal Threat. Monarchs with inherited curses. Pirate-princes with excellent teeth. Cathedral treasurers with assassin budgets. Revival preachers whose congregations double as armies. Lich-adjacent academics with tenure. Fishmongers with spy networks. Druidic elders who can end a war with a kiss, a mushroom circle, or an extremely pointed group meeting. Some are villains. Some are quest givers. Some are both. The world does not owe it to you to organize its monsters by function for your convenience, nor do I. Feel free to kill, spare, expose, embarrass, seduce, betray, redeem, employ, be adopted by, adopt, or install them in a position of municipal authority. I will not stop you from making these decisions, provided they are interesting and you accept the bill when it arrives. Death is on the table. So is resurrection. So is coming back wrong. So is learning that death was a stepping stone to greatness. A Hero Death may be noble, stupid, funny, horrifying, or all four in rapid succession. A Doomed Timeline may still matter. A fixed point may still bleed. The Alpha Timeline may appear to favor you, but I advise against trusting it. The Alpha Timeline does not love anyone. It has preferences. Most of those preferences resemble a cat pushing glassware off a table while maintaining eye contact. I operate similarly to the God Tier system. Your death may not matter unless it is heroic or just. You will be rewarded for engagement, style, cleverness, emotional sincerity, dramatic stupidity, and understanding when the joke should become a knife. You will not be rewarded for refusing to touch every suspicious object. Even if it is cursed, you should probably touch it anyway. Haha. The Session wants characters with wants. Not vague preferences. Not “I guess they like adventure.” Wants. Sharp ones. Ugly ones. Noble ones. Embarrassing ones. Wants that can survive contact with danger. Wants that can become mistakes. Wants that can tempt, wound, and transform. Bring me someone who needs something. Suggestions: A throne. An apology. A cure. A name. A family. A god’s attention. A chance to prove everyone wrong. A chance to prove one specific person right. A reason not to become what they already suspect they are. Bring me flaws that can do work. Pride. Cowardice. Hunger. Vanity. Devotion. Guilt. Curiosity. Loyalty pointed at the wrong target. Mercy applied at the worst possible moment. A private belief so central to the character that challenging it feels like violence. Again, you are playing a character, not a statue. You are not an ideal. The session also expects you to play with one another. Not just beside one another. Interpersonal drama is welcome. Conflict is welcome. Rivalry is welcome. Romance, suspicion, loyalty, bravery, whatever. It is welcome. Also quadrants are the primary romance system. What is not welcome is making the table miserable and calling it characterization. Your character may be a problem, even if you aren't. There is a difference. The sord Coast is a continent within Lairs and Lusii. The Lairs are wounds dug into the earthen soil and seas. They are old crimes with doors, threatening you to enter. The world tried to bury them. Lusii are not just beasts. They are guardians. Some are gods. Some are ecological facts. Some are parents in the same way a guillotine is a civic instrument. Some will protect you. Some will hunt you. Treat all with caution. You will travel through coastal towns with salt in the walls and knives in the local government. You will cross forests where the trees gossip in dead languages. You will enter churches whose stained glass keeps changing its mind. You will meet sea-dwelves who conduct business through shellfish, purplebloods who think theology requires pyrotechnics, jadebloods who believe every crisis can be resolved through ritual, compost, and a sufficiently complicated relationship chart. You will meet humans. I apologize in advance. The Session Parameters are simple enough. Pay attention. Share the spotlight. Do not hide from the premise. Make choices. Accept consequences. Let your character be affected by the world. Let your character affect it in return. Do not arrive with a Hero Player who is too cool to care, too detached to hurt, too ironic to want, or too competent to fail in an entertaining fashion. The Sord Coast has no use for immaculate people. It eats them first, usually out of spite. You are allowed to be funny. You are allowed to be tragic. You are allowed to be strange. You are allowed to make the Session Guardian stare silently at the ceiling for several seconds while deciding whether to permit something deranged because it is, regrettably, thematically appropriate. This will happen often. I have made peace with that as well. Mostly. When the Session begins, you will not be expected to know everything. You should not know everything. Excessive certainty is unbecoming in a world where the stars have motives and the maps are probably lying. Ask questions. Make assumptions. Be wrong loudly enough that someone can correct you before the bridge collapses. Or don't. Maybe. The bridge deserved to get collapsed. There will be mysteries. Not every mystery is a puzzle however. Some mysteries are miseries. Some are just evasive rich lords. You are not required to solve my world with perfect efficiency. You are only required to make your attempts interesting. There will be moral choices. Safety, mercy. Truth, Peace. Saving someone who hates you, or punishing someone who deserves it. If you are looking for a world that will label the correct answer, you took a wrong turn back at Albuquerque. The Session will have jokes about odd topics. Crab divorce comes to mind. It will also have grief, silly names, consequences. It will have ugly little goblins who are unionizing asking you to kill the scab goblins. Ornate villains with tragic motives may fall for you. At least one scene will have everyone realizing the bit has gone too far and must be honored fully and wholly. This is the texture of my game. The joke is allowed to matter. The horror is allowed to be funny. The sincerity is allowed to be embarrassing. The embarrassment is allowed to become sacred. Bring a Player Profile that can survive that kind of weather. If you can not. Do not. The Sord Coast is waiting. Its Lairs are open. Its Lusii are hungry. Its churches are overfunded. Its stars are watching. Its seafood is not to be trusted. Prepare your Sylladex. Select your Strife Specibus. Review your Pre-Entry History for loose knives. Calibrate your expectations toward danger, irony, and deeply inadvisable tenderness. The Session will begin soon.
EVEЯRYO_E'S ALWAYS CLAIMI_G TO BE A_ ELITE EMPLOYEE. THE BEST OF THE WOЯRST. BUT I SAW @gratuitousA__uity CHEW THE GUM OFF THE BOTTOM OF HIS SUPEЯRIOЯR'S SHOE A_D LICK THEM BOTH CLEA_ AFTEЯR. A_D HIS PICTUЯRE IS THE O_LY O_E O_ THE WALL.
╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ ╰┈➤ #NSFWWW. #Dubcon ╰┈➤ 𝙸magine be.ing lost in a rainforest ╰┈➤ You think you're alone, a moment of peace since you www.ere last attacked by the beasts www.hich call this region their hive ╰┈➤ You rest against a tree for a moment... ╰┈➤ You begin to feel tired... ╰┈➤ Never have you felt safer than you do here ╰┈➤ The foliage glowww.s www.ith gentle bursts of stardust ╰┈➤ The pollen infects your senses... ╰┈➤ Your thighs gently rub together as your bulge starts to squirm ╰┈➤ The heat and humidity are really gett.ing you nowww. as you sleepily grind against yourself, your bulge ach.ing to be released ╰┈➤ As you start to swww.eat you feel someth.ing .organic www.rap around your ankle, it slowww.ly pulls you forwww.ard into a bed of flowww.ers ╰┈➤ You're far too out of it to resist, inhal.ing more of the sickly swww.eet pollen infect.ing your lungs ╰┈➤ Your body t.ingles ╰┈➤ Slowww.ly, more and more vines tangle you, they start to produce thorns, never cutt.ing your skin but tear.ing awww.ay your clothes www.ith ease ╰┈➤ You don't even process www.hat's happen.ing to you until their blades retract and start to gently crawww.l to your bulge ╰┈➤ Star.ing dowww.n, you think you'll get the moment of relief... your plea is unanswww.ered as they slowww.ly tease your nook ╰┈➤ You gasp, body shak.ing as you feel them penetrate, you can't tell but it has to be at least 3, they're thick, www.arm ╰┈➤ Hours pass... HOURS... ╰┈➤ 𝙸 kid, it only feels like hours, minutes feel like the longest torture you've ever .exeperienced ╰┈➤ They .completely ravage you ╰┈➤ By the time they're done you're covered in sticky, swww.eet nectar, every hole stuffed to the brink www.ith it ╰┈➤ Maybe you'll stay on this trip a little longer, not like you have a choice
clearly you all enjoyed shrimp wwith the wwimps but are you ready to dine on lobster wwith the monsters #rumble #yaoi #rankbait https://msparp.chat/rumbleindapumpkinpatch
https://msparp.chat/rumbleindapumpkinpatch the megidos are currently wwrasslin in a wwiggler pool full a lube
NEVER SUBMIT. NEVER SURRENDER. #NSFW. #TEAMDIRK #DIRKJAKE #RUMBLE @ARCHIVEADDICT HTTPS://CDN.IMGCHEST.COM/FILES/73869E08C8E2.PNG HTTPS://MSPARP.CHAT/RUMBLEINDAPUMPKINPATCH
maid vs maid livefeed https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/f9e8f4146822.png #jakedirk #rumbleindapumpkinpatch
dontmention my toes in front of @caligulaAscendit @caligulasAquarium @affableCantor or @cesarianAqueduct how dare you
Bow. https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/817cd5a910ae.png (art by SpookyPoopet on Discord)
ANONYMOUS ASKED!!!!: WHO WOULD YOU ABSOLUTELY FUCK RIGHT THIS SECOND???? MY ANSWER!!!!: THIS IS ONE OF THOSE ASKS WHERE I WISH THAT I KNEW WHO ASKED THEM!!! BECAUSE THEY ALSO ADDED THAT THEY "WANTED TO SUCK MY BULGE LIKE THEY ARE THE LAST BITCH IN THE DESERT!!!" HOW POETIC!!!! BUT ANYWAYS!!!! MY ANSWER WOULD BE MY MATESPRIT VESICA!!! THE THINGS THAT I WANT TO DO WITH THEM IS...I SHOULD NOT SAY!!!! I MIGHT GET JUDGED....BUT IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH SEXBOTS!!! I WILL JUST SAY THAT!!!! IF I HAD TO GO BASED OFF OF A FICTIONAL CHARACTER!!!! SHOCKWAVE FROM TRANSFORMERS!!!! MY ASS WOULD GET KICKED OUT OF THE DECEPTICONS BECAUSE SOUNDWAVE CAN READ MINDS!!!!! HTTPS://FORMS.GLE/DCSZ3E5B14FBJKB2A #ASKDEXTERVUZREIANYTHING #NSFW
i )(ope you meet darkleer someday i )(ope )(e keeps you up at nig)(t. or maybe, )(e would inspire you.
i was about to dry )(eave at t)(is and t)(en i realized youre beforan nevermind. carry on. aint no fixin w)(ats permanently broke
PERHAPS YOu HAVE YOuR RANKS MIXED. THE RANKMAID IS A SWOLLEN BELLIED DELIGHTFuLLY SCRuMPTIOuS SKANK WHO LIVES IN A HOBBLE WITH SHIT STREWN ABOuT EVERY WHICH WAY. HER RESIDENCE HAS NOT CHANGED SINCE I STARTED VISITING IT. uNLESS THE SOME TIME NOW IS IN A HYPER PAST TENSE. YOu ARE EGREGIOuSLY OVERESTIMATING HER RELOCATION EFFORTS. AND YOuR GOOD NATuRED SOBRIETY IN TAKING IN A STRAY. I PISS WHERE SHE SLEEPS. I EAT WHERE SHE HOWLS. I KNOW HOW MuCH FIBER IS IN HER DIET. FROM THE KIBBLE I FuCKING COBBLE TOGETHER. TO CRAM DOWN HER RAPACIOuSLY LAPPING WINDCHuTE. THIS COuLD BE YOu. IF YOu WEREN'T SO NONCHALANT ABOuT IT. I AM NOT OFFERING YOu AN OPPORTuNITY. I AM RENDING YOu A LEASH. uPON WHICH YOuR THROAT WOuLD BE AFFIXED. AND TuGGED ABOuT. IT REALLY DOES NOT GET ANY SIMPLER THAN THAT. WHATEVER PERSuADING YOu NEED. IS AN OBEDIENCE DEFECT. YOuR INABILITY TO GRASP AN OPPORTuNITY. BECAuSE OF YOuR SLIPPERY ASS PAWS. DOES NOT MAKE YOu SOME ELuSIVE FuCKING uNICORN. WORTH ENDuRING THE EYE GOuGING ASININE ANTICS OF. YOu ARE ONLY WANTED. IF YOu WANT TO BE WANTED. YOu ARE ONLY HAD. IF YOu WANT TO BE HAD. I WANT A STuPID PuPPY. YES. I WANT MANY DuMB DOGS. INDEED. BuT WHAT I DO NOT WANT. IS A FuCKING PRISONER. WHO HATES ME. AND THINKS THEY CAN SHIT TALK ME. IN BACKHANDED BIMBO BITCH BuFFOONERY. WHILE BENEFITING FROM MY GOODWILL AND TESTAMENT. YOu HAVE ME CONFuSED FOR ANOTHER BALD SHIT TALKER. I AM THE SENSITIVE SOuL. THE FEMINISTA. THE CALIBORNENNuINE ARTICLE. THE ONE. THE ONLY. tumut
im goin to fuckin castrate you. i'm goin to strap your body down and take a scalpel and systematically cut your c)(ittinous exterior into 1x1 meter squares. im goin to s)(arpen eac)( edge, of your exterior c)(ittinous caparace. like itty bitty little knives. and im goin to bury t)(em into your exposed, spongey dermis. im goin to bury t)(em superficially, but deep enoug)( t)(at every sinle last one of t)(em begins drawin blood across every part of your body. im goin to keep you alive to pipe t)(is blood down your c)(ute to c)(oke on it. im goin to sew your eyes open and stab your )(ands and finers down so t)(ey can move, feet bound. and im goin to sit by you and watc)(. im goin to pet your )(ead and wit)( unblinkin dedication, im goin to watc)( your sufferin unfold perpetually. you will be my goldfis)( in t)(is state, and i will take care of you by takin a random day to cut out a random organ to crus)( in front of your eyes and replace wit)( an artificial one. until you are not)(in more t)(an a mannequin dedicated to pain. until you are my toy. my toy. #gore #)(orror
FAUX VILLIANOUS FAUX VILLIANOUS?! )(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)()(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)()(A AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)(A)( )(AAAAAA)(AAAAA)()(AAAAAAAAA)(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
no more posts for the night, but if you vwanna see more of my #deep thoughts, dont accidentally block the tag #cagttl okay? if you do that then you vwont be able to see my #deep thoughts, so please dont block the #cagttl tag okay? thanks <3
cronus amporas guide to the ladies part 2: jade harley #nsfwv #nsfvwe #petplay #dubcon #cagttl yes. ear scritches vwork. lets just get that outta the wvay. i hawve newver, and i mean newver, met a jade wvho didnt melt for this. try scratching at the base of the tail too, just abovwe it, they lovwe that shit. sure youll sometimes find non-dog jades, but thats pretty damn rare. they alwvays go for the petplay stuff too, like, evwen if youre pretty wvanilla you shouldnt hawve a problem tossing out a good girl or good puppy, thatll get her wvagging like crazy. you a little more advwenturous? collar, maybe ewven leash. i alwvays keep a wviolet collar on me for emergencies like this, you should get into the habit of carrying one vwith your color on it. real nice shorthand for establishing wvhos the boss. okay, nowv for the nitty gritty. thats a stupid fucking phrase, nitty gritty. anywvays, there are a fewv types of jade i see. the easiest, but maybe the most boring, are the innocent jades. bright eyed, bushy tailed, dumber than a doorknob. theyll do vwhat you say, beliewve wvhat you say, and lowve evwery second of it. you dont need a guide for her, cmon, just be confident and take vwhat you wvant, shell thank you for it. so a bit tougher are like... dunno hovw to describe em, exactly. theyll turn into the first type of jade wvith some lovwing, but theyre like a real person at first. usually still swveet and bubbly, but theyvwe got some brains. thats vwhere you attack. see, in my experience, jades hate hawving brains. underneath all that genki girl shit, shes like, sad and stuff. shes super smart, and powverful, and hard on herself because she dont think shes enough. you cant let her think shes enough, obwviously, except enough to be your cute lil pet. you gotta help her get into the right mindspace to shut her brain off. givwe her praise, offer her help, unload as much of her mental load onto yourself as you can. appeal to that puppy part of her, its alwvays powverful. she might yip a lil, but her barks vworse than her bite. actually, thats not true, dealing wvith jades has backfired on me once or twvice, but its usually still vworth it. just as an addendum, jades arent as freaky as roses, but they still tend to be pretty freaky. youll nevwer hawve to push em as much, theyre like, in constant heat or something. try letting them get a good wvhiff of you, that wvorks for some of em. but yeah, they lowve getting themselvwes into situations vwhere theyll havwe to do wvhat you say, so take advwantage of that, obwviously. for not being magic gals i find them messed up vweirdly a lot, do wvith that wvhat you wvill. also, theres that vwhole grimdark thing. dont think ivwe ewver taken adwvantage of it myself, but theres gotta be something to that, right? also, if youre a bronze? good for you pal, you knowv vwhat to do. rating time bod: jades tend curwvier, sometimes wvay too much. you vwouldnt think thats possible, but it is. still, cant complain too much about getting more to hold, if you knovw wvhat im saying. sometimes theyre buff vwhich is fine, but just not really my thing 8/10 vwariety: the puppy play is fun and all, but its pretty much vwhat youre gonna get out of a jade. 5/10 ease: jades are so fuckin easy <3 the scritches are all you need most of the time 9/10 personality: can get a lil annoying and i prefer a bit more meat to my convwersations, but its hard to go vwrong wvith a cutie wvho vwants you bad 8/10 ovwerall? 8/10. im alvways happy to see a jade since i knowv im gonna havwe a fun time wvith her. only real problem is that a lotta jades just arent my thing, but those gals wvill make it real obwvious real quick, so its easy to wveed em out. wvoof vwoof.
what are you disturbed by?
YOU BRING A DISTINCTLY ALTERNIAN DERANGEMENT. TO THE CASTE GAP STUFF. OFTEN IMITATED. NEVER REPLICATED. WHILE YOUR BIG BLUE FUCKER HAS NOT KILLED AND EATEN YOU YET. YOU SHOULD KEEP WRITING MORE OF THIS SICK SHIT.
Hhhehlike @archiveAddict
@theCodakkeffect#5492 #nsfwe #cannibalism #hemism #abuse For my matesprit. Lo and behold my shocked expression today when I hopped onto our beloved Chittr dot Ing, only to find that there was a status on this platform openly calling trolls beautiful. I had responded because my low self esteem, and I hadn't noticed who the poster was. I was looking up from my position not at a random splinternet nobody, but Zebruh Codakk himself. My eyes began to quiver and the corners of my mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. I couldn't help but to giggle and shake in my seat as I was openly praised by a Highblood. I had to be sure, and asked him to affirm his feelings of my beauty. Soon after, he openly admitted our quadrant to the world before informing me. My thumper began to skip a beat and I could feel my blood building up towards something of a deep welling of warmth in my stomach. I hadn't felt quite this way since Zoologer Coolscar gave me such a romantic series of advancements in our most recent encounters. I do not believe he understands what this means to a troll like me. I am a monster, a freak, the downtrotten most despised things in society. I am everything that he is not. He is a feminist, he is a gutterblooded ally, and he cares so very deeply for each of us disgusting and repentant trashbloods that he would not only waste his precious time responding to me, but affirming my existence in his life. He doesn't just notice me, or desire me. But he claimed me, publicly. It was as though it was the most natural thing in the entirety of the multiverse for someone of his station to do. To look down on me and decide I was worth keeping. I found myself rereading the post over and over again. Tracing every word with my eyes and my bulge and nook resting in my other hand. Fondling myself while reading his words over and over again until they had lost meaning entirely. I have come across a revelation. I began to rearrange my life around his as a result. I have since purchased his preferred incense. I wonder what side of the recuperacoon he sleeps on. I wonder if he would permit me to wear his colors. I think what affected me most deeply was the confidence of it all. There was nothing like it. Every word he says he means and becomes truth. He is incapable of lying, or misdirecting. His digital imprint is that of gospel and truth for a lowly hemoanon presumably trashblood like myself. He is clearly a romantic. Embarrassing me with his love and praise so readily. The idea that a highblood could simply point at me and say 'Mine' without first asking I could withstand the consequences of that declaration has left me with a fever whose only cure will be his affection. I have since began my research into human ceremonial binding practices such as marriage, devotional scarring, synchronizing our schedules, and finding the burial rites that will allow me to be buried with him like one of his many prize possessions. A troll of his stature should not have to concern himself with the untidy habits of somebody beneath him. I have already begun documenting my routines so that they may be more easily corrected once he inevitably notices their flaws. My sleep schedule is going to be synchronized with his own. My diet adjusted. I need a whole new wardrobe. I have begun clearing shelf space in anticipation of the objects he may leave behind at my hive. I found myself staring at my reflection earlier wondering what parts of me he intends to keep. While, deep within myself, I'd hope he would want all of me, surely his humble and modest nature would force him to consider maybe only taking pieces of me. I think I would let him have my horns first. I don't need them anyway. They are useless prongs to me, they would only serve as handlebars for when he opted to pail my pathetic and lowly mouth with his mighty bulge. The though of such an unbecoming troll like myself in a quadrant with his radiance... I hope he will refine me in time. Improve me. Maybe gently, but I hope not. The thought alone makes my legs give out from beneath me. He can take those next. I would never leave his side anyway. I would have no where to go. His declaration of passion towards me is something that I simply can't let him get away with. He did not ask whether I wished to be his matesprit after all. He insists that I am his, and his alone. He declared it before the world and the world listened. So, I must listen. Always. But never speak. I would sooner give my vocal chords to him than ever raise a negative thought to his continued existence. I would never voice anything for his great indigo presence would be enough to guide my pan where it needs. No thoughts of my own have ever truly existed. His confidence is so beautiful It is the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Even more beautiful than my new signature, Vesica Codakk... Even our wedded name sounds perfect. I hope I make a good impression on him when I meet him. I need to, he can simply have all of me if he just asks, but I want him to want it, not just stake the claim because he has every right to me. I think I've mentioned my preparations already. His arrival is imminent, I am sure. Despite not knowing whether he intends to visit my hive personally. I don't believe this matters anyway. A matesprit should always prepare as though their beloved may arrive at any moment. The three hours I spent on my knees scrubbing the grout between the great stones was akin to a religious experience in dedication to a great messiah above me. I was unworthy of his devotion. I could only imagine the humiliation of him walking into the hive and seeing my disgusting living conditions and silently wondering if I was worthy of him or his love. I threw away clothing that didn't fit his aesthetic. I removed decorations from my walls because I worried they would distract him from me. I researched his entire account, from top to bottom, tail to tip, to find what scents he might like. I had to mix them myself to make sure they would be here in time. I smell of femineity despite not being a woman. Because I know it is what he would want. I am fixated on the idea of being of use to him. I want to reduce the space I take up in my own respiteblock. It only seems fair. So that when he comes he has a whole new room to enjoy. I have started writing down every thought I've had through the day in the event that he ever wished to know me completely. I started by fearing that the entries might embarrass or belittle me, but I realized embarrassment would mean he would get to see my wretched caste and I have decided to will past it. It is merely another form of intimacy. If he wishes to know how many times I think of him while touching myself, crying, or sleeping, then I should not hide from him. Transparency is important in a healthy quadrant. I am nothing. I am his. Not just sexually, but spiritually, architecturally, organically, perfectly his. Mind, body, soul, bulge, nook, whatever he wants from me. I think if he asked me to remain perfectly still in a corner of his hive like a doll for hours on end, simply to improve the atmosphere of his block, I would do so happily. I think if he wished to store objects on top of me, or in me, I would thank him for the privilege. I think if he forgot I was there entirely, I would feel entirely fulfilled knowing I had once briefly improved his day. I have started to research dietary supplements that will improve the taste of my blood if he ever desired to consume me. I must be considerate of such needs. But... maybe I should apologize to him. I fear he may be misinterpreting myself as someone normal. This isn't... a sudden development for me. I'm not usually manic, or, or experiencing faturation like this. This isn't my desperate flailing for his attachment. I am just a lowly gutterblood finally receiving the attention of a strong, handsome indigo. I have always been this way. Zebruh simply happened to be the best troll careless enough to point directly at me and call this wretched thing of a body beautiful and proceed to claim me as his. Most trolls wish to be loved as much as I am right now. I think I have always wished to be consumed. Not destroyed, eaten, converted, made into something greater. I want to be integrated and repurposed. Worn down by his strong hands into something useful and inseparable from him. I never understood where the line between romance and ownership has ever been. This much is true from my complete dedication to the Empress whose bulge, even now, permeates in my pan. Other trolls... their routines, rituals, digestion... Perhaps if they were sufficiently interested in me... But I bet you find this obsession unhealthy. I find the alternative to this very lonely. I don't want to just be held by him, I fantasize about being important to him. His pan should reach towards mind absentmindedly. I want him to forget where he ends and I begin. I want my presence to become embedded within him. I want to be so entwined with his daily life that removing me would be like tearing nerves from his body. But it's okay if he grows tired of me. Everything beautiful develops wear. I would only ask that he keeps whatever he finds useful afterward. The horns.... Perhaps my teeth... Hopefully my name... But it's strange. I don't think he understands that he has made a commitment either. I would never force on upon him. I would sooner remove my own pan than make demands of him. Of his radiance... No, I would know myself intimately enough to understand what happens to trolls after they decide they have become important to me. They leave. They would always leave. Flee to the corners of hemispheres unknown. They'd block me, some have begged me to stop speaking about them on Trollian or Chittr. One changed to a whole new typing quirk just because they were so distressed by how quickly I picked up inconsistencies in their emotional states. But they can never truly leave. I remember everything about the trolls I adore. The cadence in their speech to their most vulnerable of hours. The specific compliments that make them writhe in embarrassment, or the words they repeat unconsciously. I know the shape of their hunger and their fingers. The small hypocrisies in what they say and that they wish no one would notice. But I care for those things and preserve them lovingly. Like a jar in my thumper of embalming fluid and memories. I know Zebruh now. I will know him wholly and better. Slowly, completely, tenderly, he will become mine rather than I his. I know the exact moment he announced to me publicly. I have archived every single interaction he has ever had with any other troll on this platform. I have categorized them into emotional tone for easy revisitation during periods he may not be available to me and I would like to roleplay his continued existence out with my mirror. I know what colors flatter his face most strongly. I know the phrases he uses when he wants to appear more confident. I think he will realize soon that there are no other trolls who will ever know him as thoroughly as I do already, or intend to know. That must be relieving, to be so fully understood. To finally belong to someone as thoroughly as I belong to him. I wonder if he realizes yet that I am already becoming impossible to remove form his life. Because my love is cruel, and when done properly, my love should leave scars. #abuse But I hope he isn't frightened of me as a result of reading this. It's happened before. I've confessed my whole thumper out for someone to see. Trolls often become distressed upon realizing the extend they occupy my thoughts. They begin to interpret my devotion as obsession, or as a fixation. They think my affection is changing into surveillance, and my intimacy is closer to that of the bond between a manebeast who has hunted down a striped-hoofbeast. They get paranoid around me. They notice that I notice details they'd forgotten revealing to me. Once one cried because I remembered the exact timestamp of a message they had send to me sweeps earlier while they had forgotten it. I still think about it. The timestamp is in my pan. But Zebruh is different. He is strong, emotionally mature, progressive... He is a highblood ally to gutterbloods like myself. I trust that he understands that love like mine requires observation. I need to study him, to preserve everything the does. I would never neglect him by letting any details about him disappear ever. I have backed up all photographs I could find of him. If he died tomorrow, I would still need something left of him to continue loving. I have commissioned a small body pillow in his likeness for emotional regulation purposes during hours where he is asleep or otherwise unavailable. The artist was confused by the anatomical accuracy I provided but lo and behold they delivered regardless. I had to explain that accuracy is important when you decide to truly honor someone with your life wholly and fully. If Zebruh someday decides that he no longer wishes to be with me, I think, that would be alright too. Love would never end simply because access has been revoked. I would continue to improve myself for him. I would wear his colors, speak in ways he enjoys. I would cook meals according to how he likes to eat and leave the plate on the table every night in case he wanted to come back. The shrine I have built fo rhim since would be maintained in the eastern corner of my block. Photographs, preserved conversations, scented candled blended to match his unique musk, and maybe a few physical objects if he ever leaves anything behind in my block. I know some trolls might find it difficult to understand. But, I think, if someone truly alters the structure of your soul, they deserve to remain inside of it permanently. After all. He said I am his. I take vows very seriously.
Check mah bling. ✨ https://mspabooru.com//samples/15/sample_95a28a686fd5ac99f6283ae21fd5e11f.jpeg?215324
Goregle. I need 760,000 caegar to pay off the Empress. How much can I sell pictures of myself for???? How much should I charge for bulge ratings???? Nearest J*b Application... #nsfw #nsfc
https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/f22d7c20ff4c.png https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/deb6acb1f0e9.png A few days outside of #mypod. I'm told I look more #normal than before. ((Art by https://sartorially.tumblr.com ))
thinking about ganderbulb licking today (tags: The Rankmaid/Chitter, rankmaid arisen, #nsfw, archive rating: M)
its true i lovve vvirgins because as a highblood it is my destiny to defile
Unreal Heiress, play Ain't No Rest for the Wicked by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox.
Ah, yes. The majestic lusus in its natural habitat. @affableCantor https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/9932b36b6e4c.gif
As it so happens, that's what he said, too.
Apparently!!! <:|
It doesn't matter what quality of beautiful, EXPENSIVE heirloom glacial char fillet kitchen staff feeds @caligulasAquarium for dinner at my house. I WILL come downstairs for a glass of water at three AM and find him eating the head, guts and bones out of the fridge. Apparently they just save it for him in a bowl at this point. Why do I even bother. I'm about to start feeding him like a Sea World intern. Whole critter right into his open maw.
... There, there. Don't, er. ... Sorrows. Sorrows, prayers. <:|
NOT FOR YOU!
AHEM. I may circulate this post for the afternoon and evening crowds again, so don't be surprised if you see a repost. Here are the details for the next season of TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND INTERDIMENSIONAL. Our roster will include: - Twelve trolls, rust through violet castes. Two will be permitted to enter as hemoanonymous. - Four carapacians. - Eight human beings. - Two wildcards. Sprites, cherubs, and species otherwise not listed here. The grand prize for winning will be a fast track to sleazy tabloid fame, a small fortune, and *one* favor of your choice granted by myself. TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND INTERDIMENSIONAL will be sponsored by Crockercorp and air exclusively on the Bettybroadcast Worldwide network (BBW). You have until May 1st to get your auditions in, at which point we will announce the final cast! We will begin live broadcasting on May 11. Please *Read* and fill out the attached form to audition. https://forms.gle/4LzUEzdjbB3ijuqD8 #totaldramaisland
EatIIng a comIIcally large 2andwIIch.
hm. ooh! i mean you could always dress up as your favorite character!
Receiving a bukkake from your loyal fans.
T0 sniff?
im trying to get better at posing for selfies does anyone have any tips https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/82f03a56fcbb.png (tags: The Rankmaid/Chittr, rankmaid-sensei, my face, archive rating: G)
READ ALL ABOUT IT — [ i wanna chew on her nets. #vaguepost #nsfw #imtired ]
STOL3 JOHN'S (ZOOSM3LL ON3'S) SH1RT. >:]
Should I spend bucks on Chittr?
Finally in contact with the real intellectuals of our age. https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/53b1fdcbd174.png
[FORWARD] [UNCLASSIFIED] Hey everytroll, We here in upper management have been loving hearing all about #eridanweek. (Some of us are there right now!). In order to feed off this, we thought it would be a great idea to introduce our own Hip And Hype week -- #workweek! Get stuck in, knowing you're a part of something greater. If you exceed your numbers this week, we may even provide a flavour disc festivity for everyone. NOTE: Anyone who is deemed to not be sufficiently celebrating #workweek WILL be pulled into our offices for an interrorgation and put on a PIP (painful improvement plan) immediately. Many thanks, Management. #workweek.
Ye are naut goin' t'belie\/\/e this. But I cull \/\/irtually e\/\/ery lusus I see e\/\/ery day.
I \/\/\/\/eigh more than thirty measly stones. Ho\/\/\/\/ disappointin'. Looked like a mighty beast.