♥ liked by @beforianTimes
i tried to get one and they laughed at me then they realized i wvas serious then they laughed some more then one of them said hey arent you coolscars descendent theyre gnc af and i said youre crazy and they laughed at me some more
shit wvait should i get a tramp stamp vwhile im here
Sure, I've got a comment for you. En route right now.
I AM NOT SEX YACHTING WITH THE OTHER CREATORS IT IS A SIMPLE BIRTHDAY PARTY THERE ARE AGENTS OF DISCORD ACTIVELY WORKING TO BESMIRCH MY GOOD NAME you know what. I'm going to calm down. It's fine. I'm an adult. #nsfw
OH SHUT THE FUCK UP.
READ ALL ABOUT IT — [ She wandered Eridan Week, a step and a half, a stumble and some more. Her thinkpan flares up with more and more pain. Nugthrobs were a bit of a bitch for her. Not a great feeling, you know? She stepped past other guests at the venue, many of them are familiar obviously from previous cycles, but a majority of them she has no interest in. Her eyes follow the ground up to the horizon in the sky, then she finally sees her. Stood about a foot and then some taller than Darlin is an older woman. One side of her hair is red, another side of black. She's focused on a dispute between an English, and a Strider. She's starstruck, as always. She had an energy which betrayed her age, her eyes were spirals that you could fall into and never come back from. Glistening in her own sweat and with her own blood running down her nose, a visage of beauty and perversion. Her title is Rankmaid, an incredible woman. Darlin hasn't ever asked for her name. Maybe because she didn't need to know. The columnist is froze for a moment, maybe more. She's unsure why, she can't tell if she's nervous or if she thinks she's not capable of talking to her. Her hands gripped the strap of her messenger bag and she's lost in thought. She's an ancestor. Way out of Darlin's league and age-range. Her hair was long enough to reach down to her waist, thick and soft. Her horns curled outwards like a ram. In her lips was a cigarette, lit and smoke waft in the air. Darlin had a lot of shame, but around her.. it felt good to be shameless. The columnist swallows down her fear and stepped forward despite the doubt. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her bag, puts one in her mouth and with a quiet breath, she speaks up. "..Hey, devotchka." It took the Rankmaid more than a second or two to respond. She turned to Darlin, big smile and all. "Oh, hi Darlin!" There was this quality to her voice that Darlin couldn't describe, it was wonderful simply put. The columnist has to look up to respond. "Hi. Er—- I think you have something of mine?" The Rankmaid leaned back, the blood still running fresh down her face. Pressing two fingers to her chin. "Oh!" Without missing a beat, she produces the lighter from nowhere. "You mean this?" Darlin rose her hand. "Yeah—- that- that's it. …If I could ask—- why do you have that?" "You told me to keep it?" She titled her head. "What?" Darlin confused as ever looked to the side. "Why would I do that?" "You were really out of it and handed me your lighter. Something about how you needed a reason to come back to me? I couldn't deny that! It was adorable!" The Rankmaid rose her hand, ruffling up Darlin's hair. Darlin froze. "Haah… really?" The Rankmaid hands her back her lighter. "Really!" The columnist pauses, she took another drag of her cigarette and grumbled. "Stupid of me." "You're so cute I can't handle it.. " Her smile is brighter than ever. "Thank you.. devotchka…" Darlin pocketed her lighter. The ancestor's cigarette fills the air between them with smoke, the air they share. This air they share. The Rankmaid looks down at Darlin, before putting a finger on her chin. "Psst." She guides her head upwards. "C'mere." She sat still as the Rankmaid kisses the tip of her lit cigarette into her unlit one. Her fingers drum at her side and smoke is drawn into her body, her eyes met with hers. The cycle at Eridan Week was gonna be fine. (agegap, #substance, #leijonwriting. #eridanweek, cigarettes, cigarette kiss, f/f) ]
((Turning off my quirk for this one because it's A LOT to read! And there's MORE backstory that I wrote if anyone is interested in reading that portion, the total thing is just under 20k characters. I DID NOT PROOF-READ THIS lol I've stayed up for far too many hours and almost passed out while writing this, but here is my submission for @beforianTimes #leijonWriting challenge! Featuring @archiveAddict and a special guest, #substance #suggestive #slowburn #lovetriangle #envy #yuri #yumeshipping #eridanweek but specifically the morning after #rumblenight ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You're at a bar. It's late. Later than usual, anyway. You've been living on Alternia for a short time now. More of a vacation, you'd call it, but you had gotten surprisingly used to the atmosphere and culture in that short time. You and your cousin have since made amends. He's even more popular on Earth's surface now than he ever was underground. He hasn't quite caught on with Alternians, but with his exorbitant fame among humans and monsters, he's made quite a lot of money, and he'd taken the liberty of being one of the early adopters of having a vacation home on Alternia, and as a show of goodwill between two reconciling cousins, he's generously allowing you to live there, along with your half-sister Melody. Her deal is complicated, way more so than yours. A story for another time. What matters is that you've been quite comfortable with your body (although the programing in the voicebox tends to mess with your speech patterns). You're settling into things on Alternia, eagerly learning troll culture and language, and all-in-all having a grand time. There's only one problem; You still haven't been able to feel anything with your new body. Your cousin insists it's natural, all part of the process, and that every ghost has their own timeline of becoming fully, truly corporeal, so it's unfair to compare yourself to others. You think he's full of shit. He reassured you that he didn't start feeling sensations with his body until at least two years in. You've been numb for eight. Sure, occasionally you'll feel some twang of sensation somewhere deep inside your core. Usually pain though. Undyne originally was surprised to hear you'd gotten a new body after the barrier had fallen. She didn't want to use something so revered as an anime character as a punching bag, at least at first. Then she found out anime wasn't quite as real as she had hoped. Your technician and Undyne's girlfriend, Alphys, ended up having to spend a whole week reassembling your broken pieces after the beating Undyne unleashed on you, fueled by the fury of discovering a key tenant to her world view was just flat out wrong. After she found out you had started being able to feel pain, even just slightly, the two of you had a serious talk. Fortunately you both agreed that it was actually kind of really hot that she was strong enough to make you actually feel something in this new body. Plus, the fact that you were able to feel ANYTHING, even just the deep aches of a bent metal endoskeleton and the sting of snapped wires, meant that your transition to corporeality was making slow but steady progress. She still beats you up a few days a week, and you always thank her when she's training especially hard, because in the end it's all to help both of you. You take a long, slow swig of your SHITTY BEER. You'd think a robot doesn't need to eat, doubly so for a ghost inhabiting one, but Alphys has modified this animatronic body to be able to convert food into electricity to keep your batteries charged. If you run out of battery power, you end up BASICALLY USELESS, since you can't exactly move around without the hydraulics and springlock systems in your metal skeleton. Regardless, eating is fun since taste is one of the few feelings you fully get with your new body. And inexplicably, some substances also affect you. Beer, for example. You impatiently tap your empty mug on the bar, hoping to get the barkeep's attention. Even if it tastes shitty, a beer is a beer, and alcohol burns in your combustion engine of a stomach far better than most food. Same goes for things like cigarettes, joints, pills, or gummies. For some reason, you get way more battery power (and side effects) from illicit substances. And having a celebrity in the family means lots of disposable money to make BAD DECISIONS with... The bells of the door jingle. You don't look up from your empty mug. Footsteps approach you. Sounds like three pairs. You see a hand reach out to you out of your peripheral vision. You hear the sound of your shoulder being tapped. You don't feel it. Of course. You finally look up from your empty drink. The one who tapped your shoulder was ERIDAN. You hardly know this guy. He vaguely reminds you of a weird mix of some characters from a monster dating sim you played ages ago. It's like he had the personality and figure of the vampire hipster twink, and the posh, regal persona of the genocidal merfolk princess. Really all you ACTUALLY know about him is that he's the one hosting or at least sponsoring this whole #eridanweek event. He says something to you but you weren't listening. Your ears ring a little. Then he gestures behind him, toward the two other trolls that came in with him. One tips her hat, the blue brim something you vaguely recognize from somewhere but can't quite place in your tipsy haze. The second troll however... You could recognize those curled red horns anywhere. This was none other than the fabled RANKMAID ARADIA MEGIDO, of Archive Addict fame. You and Alphys would read her works any chance that you get, and she's been the main driving force for you learning the local culture and troll language. She is quite honestly an inspiration to you. She gives you a polite head bow, which you quickly return with a flustered expression on your plastic face. You exchange polite conversation, words on auto pilot as your mind races. What's she doing here? This is some crummy dive bar, you only came here tonight because of the 2 for 1 sushi special. Eridan is saying something to you. You reply with whatever words you think make sense to reply with. He looks at you puzzled, then smiles a faux-confident grin before nodding his head and walking off to who knows where. You don't think about him any more. Maybe you would have, if your creative writing idol wasn't standing before you, like a goddess descended from Fujo Heaven. Another troll-esque shape starts encroaching on your vision. The greenish blur, topped with blue, was threatening to eclipse Her Unholyness Herself. You blink and the form comes into focus. A camera is practically shoved in your face, and clicking reverberates through your mostly hollow skull. When the flashbang photography settles down, you can just barely make out the appearance of MUCKRAKE, MISS LEIJON from the BEFORIAN TIMES. You recognize her cap now, she had been at the event last night too for Eridan Week. After a nod towards Rankmaid, the reporter gives you a wordless thumbs up and then the two of them head towards a booth away from the bar, their conversation out of earshot in the suddenly noisy establishment. You start thinking again. You're back at the rumble the night before. The noise of the crowd is deafening. You had snuck your way into VIP seating after convincing to trade some nobody for his ticket. You got his ticket, and in exchange he got to have his teeth back after you knocked them out. #violence is typically the fastest way to get what you want on this planet, you've come to learn. Sitting near you is the illustrious Rankmaid, her hair practically drenched in sweat and oil from the ongoing festivities. Her hands are shaking around the disposable camera she brought with her to photograph the event. You offer to send her the photos you take on your palmhusk, your tone trying to stay as calm and collected as you can. Then you notice her as well. The blue cap bobs back and forth excitedly, the boxy news-reporter camera darting back and forth from angle to angle to capture all of the homoerotic action up in the ring. Muckrake is here as well, and Rankmaid seems absolutely enthralled by her. The oliveblood's catlike reflexes are perfect for getting just the right shot. A subtle jealousy starts to smolder inside you... or it could just be the cigarette you snacked on before you sat down. Either way, Miss Leijon seems to be getting a lot of attention from Rankmaid-sensi. You bite your tongue to try and distract yourself from the envy you're beginning to feel for Muckrake's position, so close to Rankmaid; You don't feel anything as your teeth clamp down on your sandpaper tongue. Finally your logical brain kicks in, trying to silence the doubt and envy you're feeling. You've never actually talked to her in person before tonight, and you're still somewhat processing that she's a real person, who looks just like her author pictures. Rankmaid doesn't know you. As the night goes on, you get the opportunities to help change that, but if you want your senpai-sensei to notice you, it will take time. And being patient is something you excel at... for the most part. You still haven't gotten a refill on your beer. Nor have you received your sushi. You start looking around for the bartender. They're over at Rankmaid and Muckrake's booth. They place a pair of plates on the table and a cup containing two sets of chopsticks, said plates adorned with sushi of all kinds. You feel a fuse somewhere inside you pop. You watch as Rankmaid-sensei reaches for the chopsticks, Miss Leijon's hand also gravitating toward the center of the table. Their fingers touch, gently nudging one of the chopsticks. Rankmaid blushes, and you can read her lips as she starts stumbling to say "Gomen..." Muckrake's hand instinctively retracts as well. You think back to that moment. At the rumble... The noise made it difficult to hear much of anything. Rankmaid was sweating, partially covered in a thin layer of oil, and had blood dripping from her nose. The action up in the ring was almost too much for her to handle. Muckrake had tossed you a spare towel to help her dry off and clean up Rankmaid-sensei. You were dutifully, diligently dabbing up the sweat with one end of the towel while wiping up her blood with the other end. It was a futile effort, the towel would end up fully saturated with oil and blood by the end of the second round. But you still wished to help support her Unholyness any way you could. Your eyes look up at the two, now three men struggling to decide a victor. Then it happens. You feel her touch your hand. You FEEL her hand. Her soft, supple fingers gently resting on your thumb while you grip the towel. How long has she had her hand there? You could hardly know. All you did know, was that SOMETHING was different. Something about Rankmaid. You could feel her touch, something your partially corporeal body has never felt before. You look at her face, one of pure fujoshi ecstasy, and you can't help but feel a kinda similar way. A feeling of euphoria for finally knowing what someone else's hand feels like. You're stirred from your flashback by the bartender placing a mug of more shitty beer in front of you, the froth absentmindedly spilling over the second he lets go. Just in time too, as it seems Rankmaid and Miss Leijon are standing up, preparing to leave. Almost wordlessly, Rankmaid glides past you, and you can hear her whisper "Domo, Maddie-chan". You blush intensely, but before you can do anything else, you get a second surprise; You feel a hand on your shoulder. More than just the symbol of reassurance. You actually FEEL her hand. Th-this can't be correct, right? You look up from your sad mug of beer, and nonchalantly, Muckrake is standing behind you, hand on your shoulder. Why, now, of all days, of all people, could you suddenly feel not only Rankmaid's touch, but also Miss Leijon's??? She's looking toward Rankmaid's slowly retreating form as the goddess of yaoi leaves the bar ahead of her companion. She gives you a grin, purring softly before saying this: "Miss Rankmaid sure is something, huh?" She pats your shoulder, then without another word, she too leaves the bar. You're left thinking about not only Rankmaid-sama, but also what the feeling you just experienced could mean. It's getting quiet again, the bar almost empty. You take a sip of your beer, expecting it to taste like garbage. Instead, it's the most flavorful beer you've had all day. The bartender says "This one's from one of the gal's at that booth, they must have just left though..." You're no longer paying attention to the barkeep as he starts to rattle on about other things. Something about the taste of the beer makes you think. It kind of reminds you of... That's when you remember. There was someone else sitting with you at that rumble last night... The bells of the door jingle again. The President walks in. He looks at you, smiles, and holds up his hand in a dignified wave. "Hello there, Maddie. A pleasure to see you here." ~ TO BE CONTINUED??? ~
READ ALL ABOUT IT — [ After she left her hive, the columnist took a moment to really consider this complicated journey ahead, though remembering just how important that lighter is to her; she settles with it. She takes her scuttlebuggy down to Eridan Week. It was an event hosted by Jane Crocker and Eridan Ampora, trolls who Darlin had no clue the larger importance of. All she knew them as was the alien girl and the whiney highblood. Her hand is pressed to her forehead in disappointment, looking at herself in the rearview mirror. Her mind is occupied. Too occupied. With too many people. She really doesn't know how she's been attracting so many people lately but it's been overwhelming… in a good way. Darlin has arrived at Eridan Week. She exited her buggy, patting the side of her vehicle with a metaphorical "that ain't going nowhere." She's learned a good life in the slums, so she skips past merchants and other trolls. Narrowly squeezing in-between trash bins and walls, crouching through tight spaces and dashing past so many different blood colored trolls that she thinks she's at a painting convention for purplebloods. The moonlight above grants brief respite every time she sees it, as if it's guiding her along the path to getting her lighter back. Okay, well that's putting it nicely, it's more so illuminating the path that she's taking. In the meanwhile, her mind continues to flood itself with so many thoughts that she really hasn't stopped to think of what she'll do after she gets her lighter back. Pushing forward with only one goal in mind, she supposed. As she comes up to the bar, her bloodpusher tells her she's on the right track. Turning to the left, she notices the entry to the bar. Perfect. Darlin walks on over to the door and nudges it open, making her way inside quietly. What she first notices is how shoddy the bar really is, no offense meant to those who run it. Maybe that's the aesthetic? With tables strewn across the place and a pool table in the far back room -- a dangling lamp highlighting the fact that the pool balls haven't been rearranged for what seems to be a very long time. And somehow, the second thing she noticed is a very loud troll in what seems to be the midst of a fight. None of the other patrons seem to pay him mind, probably an influencer purpleblood? Kicking around lowerbloods with a large grin in his face, he speaks a coded language before headbutting someone. By him is an indigoblood shilling some sorta crypto-currency, using the fight as free advertising. Darlin walked past, over to the real bar where there are a few recognizable faces. Spades Slick, a couple of Eridan's (who are arguing about something, she's not really sure…) and Muckrake. She took a seat by Muckrake, a hand raised to signal a drink from the bartender who politely gets to it.The oliveblood wore a green coat and a flatcap, not disimilar to Darlin's own flatcap she used to wear all the time. Darlin didn't exactly hate Muckrake, but hated what she represented… "Nice 't see you, droogie." She whispered. "Nice to see you too Darlin!" Muckrake spoke. Darlin catched the bottle slid her way. "…I eh— I wanted to ask.""Yes?" The oliveblood perked up. A head tilt much like a felines. Darlin took a sip of her beer. "Do you know where Rankmaid is?" Muckrake thinks, leaning back with a finger on her chin. "I think she walked by earlier! She was here to catch something involving human boys, you know how she is." She rose her arms, her wrist limp like paws. She spoke with such fervor and immaturity. "And why do you want to know… :33" Her face forms a classic :3. A bit smug. "Just trying to find something, 's all." Darlin looked off to the side, trying to find something she could she was staring at instead of avoiding eye contact… but there's nothing, really. "Nothing?" She purred. "Nothin' at all? Come on, there's gotta be something!" "It's nothing really." Darlin huffed. "Is it rrrrreally?" She rolled her r's, fangs peek from her lips. "Rrrrrrumor is, you're starstruck!" "Just rumors—-" She's cut off. "I don't blame you, you know?" Muckrake continues. "She's.. grrreat. In so many differrrent ways! I'd say I'm in the same boat as you, you know?" Darlin groaned. It was no offense meant to Muckrake. She just didn't… try to think about it. "Look. Do you know what direction she went in or not?" She sat up. "Buzzkill!" Muckrake purred. "Fine, she went that way." She pointed off North. Darlin leaves a couple of caegars behind for the bartender and headed off. "Good luck!" Muckrake calls, her voice further and further way as Darlin walked into the distance. #substance #bar #part2 #eridanweek #leijonwriting #cameos #muckrake #f/f ]
READ ALL ABOUT IT — [ RING RING RI- A palm shot out from the green thick sopor in the bowels of a recuperacoon, latched onto the edge -- whatever's under the surface pulled itself up from the depths. Within a few seconds, the head of a rustblood surfaces from the goop, the most identifiable feature is her red curls running through grey hair. running through the mid part of her damp hair. A deep breath, a deeper sigh. Her gaze followed the floor up to the alarm clock positioned next to the cocoon. She pulled herself out, her body wrapped in bandaging like a mummy. Her name is DARLIN DEARIE. Darlin rose from her cocoon much like a rainbowdrinker would from a corpse box, a stinging pain persisting within the crevices of her head. Being a consumer of vices, the rustblood concludes that the aggravation within her thinkpan is derived from a hangover, a very nasty one; one bad enough she doesn't quite remember what happened the day before. Darlin shambled around her respiteblock, feet pulled forward with effort and exhaustion, the bags beneath her eyes drooped much like an older barkbeast. First thing first, Darlin would go to put on her clothes. Her respiteblock is a mess. On one side of the room is a corkboard, with photos and articles linked together with red string. She hadn't talked about this with anyone, but that was something she was working on. On the other side is her commerical typewriter, stacks of paper strewn about in a frenzy. Not that she didn't care— she just worked best in disorganization. The moonlight was cast in excellent beautiful beams through glass, parts of her room highlighted enough for her to work without the real lights on. Drawers gather dust, filled with personal photos and moments of life kept to herself. Other than that, on the wall by her recuperacoon is The Typewriter -- the design is heavy and unwieldly; guaranteed to give those who wield it wrong strained wrists. -- it's pristine with a small glint on the edge. It is a work of art, possibly the most expensive thing the rustblood owned. It hadn't been used for direct violence in a while, but that wouldn't stop it from clicking away. Drafting scripts and ending stories with a pull of a trigger. We return to our rustblood, whom had been dressing herself slowly and quietly. She slid on leather gloves, tight against her hands, that material creaking and groaning with every movement. She always enjoyed the feeling of leather on her hands. Or the feeling of leather in general. It was just an additional benefit that it kept her fingertips secret and kept her hands from getting bloody. Her body was covered in bandages, treatment she had to adminster herself after the night she had. On her back were the initials N.L. clawed into the skin. That was probably the most annoying scar of them all. The next were her baggy pants, made of cotton and flexible to her ever-moving attitude. And after that—- she slides on a comfortable turtleneck. This was her favorite outfit. Her only real one. Darlin checked her pockets for her box of cigarettes, yet didn't find anything. Then she scrounged around for her favorite zippo lighter, a custom designed comission from a metalworker she knew. Nothing. Annoyance settles in before she pats down a piece of paper, crumpled in her clothing and coming from last night, it seemed to be a note. A lead on her missing lighter!"Meet me at Eridan Week." It was written neatly. "I think I have something you want. 0v0" This wasn't a great help. She gritted her teeth, then put the note back into her pocket. The last place she remembered being at was the wonderful bar at Eridan Week. Guess the Outglut Observer is on hiatus for a while, she collected the rest of her items. She knows exactly who she's looking for. #eridanweek #leijonwriting #yuri #hangover #lostitem #part1 #mentionsofcycle5 #nsfw #gore ]
It seems like a fun and harmless writing exercise. I will attempt to portray Ampora in the most dignified manner I can muster.
god damn it really
rechit
... Official stadtement maybe. In light of yesterdasy evening's festrivities, this day of #eridanweek will bes our day of rest. #dayofrest
Was scrolling thu my palmhusk and found this pic I took last night at #eridanweek mew~ Managed to snag some VIP seating with the GOATs 👑 @barackObama 🏓 @archiveAddict and 📸 @beforianTimes https://i.imgur.com/ibfX7m1.jpeg #substances #blood mew~ 💖✨
A formal statement on the events of last night's MARVUS XOLOTO performance. It is my sincerest regret that our star performer was not able to enchant you all with the musical stylings of his newest single #BIGFATA$$. However, it seems the arrival of some additional bad actors, in a desperate plea NOT to change the ideologies of the people, but merely to gain my attention, detonated an explosive in the arena shortly after the announcement of the night's closing performance. UNFORTUNATELY, the sheer quantity of oil sprayed amongst the arena and crowds acted as an accelerator. Crockercorp pledges to utilize a water-based lubricant for all future events featuring two men in skimpy shorts slamming one another before a roaring crowd. Anyway. Reanimations and mass healings have taken place throughout the evening and are now completed. Thank you all for attending. Announcement for this evening's festivities are to come shortly. #eridanweek #bombing #oiledup #badcombo
I definitely like men.
iz drawing fanart of people u know irl weird? i draw fanart of real people i know here zometimez xux httpz://i.ibb.co/wwqpxz29/2025-12-09-12q-kleki.png httpz://i.ibb.co/rpk3fnrq/2025-12-09-132-kleki.png httpz://i.ibb.co/mpwmzdz/2025-12-09-139-kleki.png
im not there but i agree with evill john grab his dick and twist it
Shared a beer with the Purrresident at #eridanweek OMFGGG mew~ 💖✨ -with @barackObama @archiveAddict @beforianTimes [Attached is a somewhat blurry photo of Trollbama with a beer in his hand, looking intently at the stage. Rankmaid is in the next seat over, slumped back in her chair with blood dripping from her nose as Muckrake is fanning her with a sweat-drenched towel]
I expect to see every single individual present at #EridanWeek to be at church.
ok i might zhow up to eridan week guyz
Be there or be square! At #eridanweek! https://msparp.chat/eridanwweek https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/35f8069316fd.gif
i have my sanctioned paddle i was told im allowed to bring to get signed no one else bring weapons please there are no weapons allowed other than my paddle im really nervous #imcoming to #eridanweek https://msparp.chat/eridanwweek# https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/3d65a7400704.png
Horrific! Thank you!
:33< #girls :))
#BIGFATA$$ OUT NAO ON ALL PLATFORMZZ ⏩ https://youtu.be/6SsqOFk_0z0?si=lsHrniMKWo_Aj6LV share w ur friends or ur l8me && wont git a billion bux https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/82a821e604c8.png
wasingon State
SAMUŖAI TIP #1!: Tȭ be a samuŗai, yȭu must be stŗȭng in spiŗit and sȭul! wħȭ caŗes if yȭu pass ȭut if yȭu stand up tȭȭ fast if yȭu aŗe nȭble ȭf tħumpeŗ!
Abyssally eldritch depths. Enormity beyond compare or hope to reconcile. A shadow that encompasses me and space as far as my eyes can meander beyond. An undulating maw with a cavernously deep gullet waiting at the back. Spit-glossed teeth better described as the sparkling juts of a cave's stalagmites than true dental fixtures. A pinch to the nape of the neck that ferries me through the air on a perverted course defying destiny or conventional reason. The hypoxia of being lifted up towards a face and set of eyes so gargantuan it cannot be viewed all at once, nor fully comprehended for what it is. And aftercare.
Tasting the fear that laces blo+o+d when I sink my fangs into+ so+meo+ne who+ do+esn't kno+w what they've go+tten themselves into+ is the so+rt o+f thing I co+uld write no+vels abo+ut. Especially the way it makes them squirm under me. #nsfw #vio+lence?
If yxv need any slime meet me behind a gas statixn and I kan get yxv any drvg yxv need. #nsfw #begaydxkrime
I LOWK NEED TO GET HIGH AS FUCK AND GET DOMINATED. SEND CHITT. #SUBSTANCE #NSFW
TIPS I WISH I KNEW. WHEN I WAS GETTING INTO "LOVE." FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. 1. LOVE IS PAIN. 2. YOU WILL EITHER KILL THEM. THEY WILL KILL YOU. ONE OF YOU WILL DIE FOR A BORING REASON. OR YOU WILL BREAK UP. YOU CAN ALWAYS SKIP TO THE GOOD END. BY BREAKING UP. AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. 3. ALL MEN DO IS LIE. AND CHEAT. AND GAY. YOU CAN AVOID THIS PROBLEM. BY CHEATING FIRST. AND HARDER. THIS NEUTRALIZES HIS INEVITABLE BETRAYAL. AND ALSO. ENSURES IT. LIKE BALANCING A SCALE. OR CREATING A TIME LOOP. 4. WOMEN WILL HURT YOU EVEN WORSE.
× Alwvays Havve A WVay Out If You Are Concerned About Your Safety. Especially WVith Higher Castes Than Your Owvn ×
fight them and spar them and stabbing that seems to get me far
Always shoot your shot, don't waste it. You've no idea how phenomenally good things can really get when you disregard the possibility they'll go awful.
dont hooK up with the guy you met playing duoZ on twinwipe or you will have THE meZZieZt breaKup Known to trollKind all my v-bucKZ. gone.
|< n€v€r l€av€ a claus€ op€n for pot€ntial op€n quadrants b€caus€ th€y will always tak€ advantag€ of it.
Congratulationx! You've earned 43 Anissy Coinx! https://file.garden/acSEE28XdjJpG1Nj/anizzy_coin.gif
did anyone miss me
【 Tick tock, #EridanWeek. I'm feeling the anticipation. Are you? #MayICome 】
no no no no no please no npplease no no please no
Δ Uh... Bad time to join...? Δ
I saw you.
THIS IS A LIE HE CANT DIE HES IMMORTAL. HE JUST GOT BORED AND PAYED ME A VISIT
WHAT DUDE JERMA IS DEAD WHAT THE FUCK
HE'LL BE FINE.
*Shower sounds* #nsfw https://wimg.rule34.xxx//samples/923/sample_cd8cdcbd9e2ef1842acd0ff9074bf0005fc23001.jpg?922950 https://open.spotify.com/track/5FqULKbIuLb5fNKvbAPsj6?si=209d9bb97bd44a37
Batten the hatches and prep your bling! The world isnt ready to gander your official skaianet sponsored #eridanweek SWWAG (super wowing wearable authorized garments) as you tear through the crowds and turn up to your favorite transdimensional trollian artists! The fun isnt over when the festivities conclude keep donning your duds and swinging from the rafters in these funky tees commemorating ERIDAY1. Ordering online?? Use coupon code RUMBLETHURS10 for 10% off your purchase! For 10% off of physical retailers unload your ammunition into one of our handy rounds disposal jars and keep on keeping on as you rejoin the frisk of this kittyfray. (All proceeds from troll bruno mars commemorative tees will be donated to his inevitable psychological treatment.) https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/20ff77af8399.gif
Do you ever hear me callin'? Oh-oh (Oh-oh-oh), oh-oh (Oh-oh-oh) Oh-oh (Roxy) (You have my charger)
For sure! Shoot me a DM whenever you want.
hmmmm......... ! l!ke how your th!nker works th!nk!ng lady... real th!nker of a lady th!nker... auguste rod!n the th!nker they call you? ! know th!s the gnomes ca n be smooch!ng yes yes
Some of you animals are brutally misusing the #eridanweek commemorative plastic cookie buckets.
I love the nozy gozzip columnz. They're alwayz zo mezzy.
READ ALL ABOUT IT — [ wow, really? that's really impressive. ]
:/
( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < Shuuucks!!! If its fer th’talented folks in the editorial column… ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < I would love t’see more yammerin’ about the distinguished folks ‘o this ‘ere Chittr dot com! The hottest goss ‘n tavern polluting whispers, rumors, ‘n nailbitingly tense tensions…mmmmfffg~! ( Ꮚ⚅ᨎ⚅Ꮚ) < Er hem! ( Ꮚ⚀ꈊ⚀Ꮚ) < Gets me happier than a Nat 20 on a skill check in the climax of a BBEG smackdown! Giddier than a date the whole flaysquad can finally link up ‘n slay! Perkier than a…y’get the gist!!!
oh 3m g33s y3sss gog im kinda 3ating it up atm tbh
3833 < WE HAVE! A HORN! > 3833 < IT IS BREACHING! EGG!!! >
Hello, I am the #theman. I am about to own you with a harsh fact and truth of life: You enhance the lives of those around you, and you are loved.
Looks like we're scoping our first disembowelments of the evening, folks! #igotgoredateridanweek #gore #nsfw
READ ALL ABOUT IT — [ Outfit for #EridanWeek, I guess. https://files.catbox.moe/h7xx2m.png https://files.catbox.moe/p6rrru.png ]
OH GOOD GRAVY.
confession #12- i think eridanweek is a cover up for tax fraud lol
(^･ω･^) < WHAT A SPICY TURN OF EVENTS!!!
ok sure
D --> At your leisure Ms. Leijon
D --> A reasonable position to take D --> Do let me know the ne%t time you plan on coming by my office D --> I have that list of names you requested prepared
#imcoming to #eridanweek its really cool to have troll bruno mars but i heard that troll cher was also going to be making an appearance has anyone heard anything else regarding #hercoming or no?
D --> Rest assured I am unalarmed D --> If anything I am relieved to see another sensible, functional troll with whom I am familiar
im so happy to see your column come to chittr i love reading them over my breakfast cigs what a rank confession! 0///v///0 (tags: #eridanweek, the leijon gossip column, caste difference, caste fetish, #substance, archive rating: T)
i cant wait to read it thank you so much for joining me and sharing in this #eridanweek with me #imcoming 0///v///0
[PART TWO] THERE’S ROOM ENOUGH IN THE PILE FOR BOTH OF YOU, BUT JUST BARELY. EVERY SPOT WHERE HIS BODY IS PRESSED TO YOUR OWN FEELS COMFORTING AND COOL, SOOTHING THE HEAT THAT HAD BUILT UP JUST UNDER YOUR SKIN. YOU RESIST THE URGE TO PRESS YOUR BURNING CHEEK TO HIS CHEST. YOU’VE ALREADY DEBASED YOURSELF ENOUGH TONIGHT. “you really shouldnt a run off like that" "WHAT, YOU WANTED ME TO DIG MY HEELS INTO THE GROUND AND DRAG EVERYONE INTO ANOTHER HALF HOUR OF POINTLESS BACK AND FORTH?" "but you wwerent evven wwrong though and you wwould havve heard me tell them as much if youd stayed" YOU DON'T SAY ANYTHING TO THAT, BUT HE SEEMS TO BE ABLE TO HEAR HOW LOUDLY YOU'RE THINKING. "if cant trust me to havve your back then wwhat am i supposed to do you didnt evven come to me yourself i had to come find you" HE'S RIGHT, AND OF COURSE HE KNOWS HE'S RIGHT. "I'M SOR–" "stop i didnt come to get an apology from you i came to make sure youre okay" YOUR TEETH DIG INTO YOUR LIP AS HIS COOL FINGERS WIPE AT YOUR WET CHEEKS. "so are you okay" YOU'RE BETTER NOW THAT HE'S HERE, BUT YOU DON'T TELL HIM THAT. YOU JUST NOD. "good" YOUR EXHAUSTED PAN STARTS TO SLOW AS YOUR MOIRAILS FINGERS COMB THROUGH YOUR HAIR IN CALM, SHORT STROKES. YOUR EYELASHES ARE STILL DAMP, BUT YOUR CHEEKS ARE MORE OR LESS DRY WHEN YOU FINALLY SUCCUMB TO THE URGE TO REST THEM AGAINST HIS CHEST. THE STEADY PUMPING OF HIS PUSHER LULLS YOU THE REST OF THE WAY TO SLEEP. #IMCOMING #ERIDANWEEK #RPF #ERIDANXREADER #PALEROMANCE
:33 < finally some good fucking news outlet!