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wet-and-wedgied · 8 months

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Rhys’ Diarrhea Disaster

(This is a fictional desperation story)

Rhys was a performer at the local Renaissance Fair and this year they gone all out, managing to book it on a vast estate of some wealthy history buff who’d recreated a medieval castle, complete with a most and a garden maze. Rhys, a good-looking young man in his twenties with green eyes and blond hair had been tasked with acting as a noble seneschal, greeting guests and introducing other performers. It was easy enough and fun, and he got to wear a cool recreation of a 16th century outfit, old fashion shoes complete with white tights, short black and gold pantaloons and a tight fitting matching doublet with puffy sleeves and a feathered cape. The clothing was tight and hard to get in, and even harder to get out of, but not particularly uncomfortable.

Rhys, thus toon his break in his get-up, slipping into the back of one of the vendors and grabbed for himself a turkey leg. He joined a few other guys in chowing down, before it was time for him to back work.

“Greetings lords and ladies,” said Rhys with bravado as the latest wave of guests arrived. It was the afternoon and the sun was beating down on him, but it was one of the popular times. “Prepare thyself for feats most great and glorious, as ye King’s tournament draw near,” Rhys said, much to the delight of a family as he point to a mom where to find the jousting field. He was directing another guest to the exhibit on dungeon equipment when suddenly Rhys felt a low grumble in his stomach. He wrinkled his nose, confused. He had just eaten, he couldn’t be hungry. In fact he felt really full. Then he stiffened as a cramp struck him.

Rhys let out a low moan as he held his stomach, bending over. BBBRRBBPT! A short hot fart blasted out of Rhys. A guy walking by dressed like a jester laughed at him. Rhys’ face went red. His stomach growled again. He didn’t need to eat, he needed—PPPBRTRRT!—Uh— to expel something. A lot of something. Rhys groaned as his guts twisted and churned beneath the tight fabric of the doublet. God, he needed to take a dump, right this minute!

BBBRRRT! Rhys cradled his stomach, doubling over as another hot fart escaped him. This was loud, booming a it came out. People started to notice the costumed nobleman wasn’t looking quite so noble. But Rhys had just finished his break and he knew his boss would blow a gasket if he took another. BBBRRTNBBBPPPRTT! Oh that was a big one. He should think about anything having to blow! PPrRRT! Not to mention he was suppose to be staying in character

“Greetings lords and—“ Rhys grabbed his stomach again as another cramp struck him like a hammer. It felt like a battering ram of shot had just slammed into his asshole and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it back. His knees felt wobbly as he bent at the middle, more farts attacks hitting him, each growing louder and louder.

“eEEEW!” Yelled a boy covering his nose and pointing at Rhys. “He’s stinky!”

Bbpprt

PPRTT

BppPPPRT!

Rhys shifted uncomfortably. His stomach roiled he felt bloated and gassy against the tight fit of his doublet, and refusing to budge it press’s into his bubbling guys forcing out a series of farts.

“Oh man,” Rhys muttered, “that turkey leg really isn’t agreeing with me.” He pressed his legs together, but it was no use. He was going to shit, and it was up to him on if that was in a toilet or his pants. “Screw it!” He gasped, and made a mad dash into the fair, bee-lining for the outhouses— Port-A-Potties decorated to look medieval— but was greeted a long line of other desperate fair goers. A line of other men who had eaten the turkey legs were clamoring for a spot, the sound of wet explosions disgustingly loud and clear to Rhys.

GRRearawwallRRL

Rhys whimpered as he held his stomach, shifting again and again in the line. Next to him another man let out a short gasp of relief and began pissing himself right then and there. The sight of the ever growing wet stain on the man’s shorts seem to have a reactionary effect on Rhys’ bladder which suddenly felt twice full.

BBBRRPPPBBBTTSHSWT!

Rhys grabbed his ass through the short pantaloons as another fart burst out of him, turning alarming wet at the end. He clenched his cheeks. “Oh God, there is no way I’m gonna make it!” Rhys groaned as he looked at the outhouses. He need somewhere else to go. He turned, desperately scanning for anything. His eyes focused on the maze. It looked most empty.

Rhys, one hand planted on his round ass and the other pressed between his legs and gripping his crotch ran across the commons and into the maze, stumbling through the many twist and turns, farting with each step. He finally came to a stop in a secluded corner as another cramp hit him and he doubled over.

“fuck it!” Rhys gasped as he resolved to pop a squat in the maze. He looked down at the pantaloons and began to work on the laces that went up the front against the bulge of his pulsing crotch. He moved as fast as he could, but there were so many, and the laces were done so tight. Panic started to set in as he tried to move faster. But the laces wouldn’t budge and the battering ram of hot loose shit was ready to breathe through.

“No! No, no, no, come on!” Rhys begged as he tried in vain to tug down the pantaloons of the white tights as his stomach chained like an angry volcano. “Please— please don’t make me shit myself!” He shook and squirmed, but it was no use as the battering ram of shit slammed against his hole and broke through.

“Aahhh… can’t hold it! AaaaAAHH!” Rhys moaned as a a thick wet turd the size of a soft ball burst through his hole and into his white tights. He gasped as the tights were instantly stained a muddy brown, the stench so thick it made him gag. And it was only the begging. He left out another moan as, the gates broken through, a tidal wave of soft diarrhea poured out of him in an uncontrollable burst into his pantaloons. It quickly filled them, Rhys left doubled over as he lost complete control of his bowls, soiling his costume. As he continued shitting himself , Rhys’ bladder too gave in. His eyes fluttered as he began peeing his pants, flooding the front as a golden waterfall fell over his fingers, frozen where they were still on his laces, streaming down his thigh and legs, mixing with the mudslide going down the back of his tights.

BLABBBBDGFFFBBBFFFFRT!

PLLOPPOPPOKLRRRBBBRRT!

SSPOOSSSLAAT!

Rhys whimpered as his pantaloons were filled, till his ass was swimming in the tidal wave of diarrhea, which came out in explosive blasts that Rhys helpless. The smell was toxic, the raw sewage his body was producing horribly rip as it started to mush up his back and onto his doublet as his guts bubbled and forced out more rancid fart into the growing mess. Rhys fell to his hands and knees, landing the massive puddle of his own shit and piss.

He breathed heavily as the diarrhea pouring out of him slowed. His entire outfit was ruined. His tights soaked, his shoes flooded with still hit urine sewage. He let out a small sob at his embarrassment, though despite it all a part of him was happy to have the release, though his gut still felt funny.

Rhys was finally able to strip out of his soiled clothes, wiping himself off as best he could. He was left entirely in the nude expect for his hat, which he held over his privates as he made his way through the maze. He figured everyone would be watching for the joust, so he could make a quick dash to the employee’s tent and grab his civilian cloths and book it. And he might have made it too.

But just as Rhys was reaching the maze entrance, not a soul in sight, he was hit with a second wave of explosive diarrhea. He let out a sharp, embarrassed gasp as he felt his bowels loose and he froze. Instinctively he grabbed the hat he’d been using to cover himself and placed it beneath him as he squatted. “Oh god, not an Again — UUaghhhAaaAAHH!”

BBBBRRRSSPLLAAATTT!

Rhys moaned loudly, his cheeks red as his ass erupted like a poop volcano beneath him into his hat. He gasped and groaned as wave after wave of explosive diarrhea blasted out of him hot as lava and disgustingly thick, filling the poor unfortunately hat till it was overflowing.

It was in the middle of this, Rhys shitting uncontrollably, emptying his bowels into his own hat when the joust ended and everyone came flooding back into the the commons. Suddenly all eyes were set squarely on Rhys and his diarrhea disaster.

#male piss #male omorashi #malediarrhea #diarrhea #omorashi #pantspissing #pants wetting #pants shitting #soiling #pooppants #male pee desperation #malepoop #male poop desperation

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skelebee · 1 year

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Apiary April - Pantaloon Bee

#apiaryapril #bug people #chity

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rjzimmerman · 7 days

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This tiny flower teaches us all we need to know about growing old. (Washington Post Opinion)

For most of my life, I marked the progress of spring by its blooms. First came the crocuses of February and the daffodils of March, followed, in quick succession, by the tulips and hyacinth, the lilac and flowering cherry and the saucer magnolias. Later, the azaleas would explode in a pink and red riot — and, before long, the peonies would unfurl to proclaim the approach of summer. Each arrival announced itself with a spectacular burst of color and, often, a sweet perfume that filled the yard.

But lately I’ve come to share the view of Wendy Cass, the head botanist at Shenandoah National Park, when she sees a waving clump of daffodils.

“Boring,” she says.

What I had been watching all those years was spring as humans made it. This year, I’m experiencing spring as God made it.

Those tulips, lilacs and all the rest were imported from Europe and Asia, curated and genetically manipulated by humans so they would grow with no effort and display improbably sweet and showy blooms. They are beautiful, no question, and I will always smile when I see a host of golden daffodils as Wordsworth did, “Beside the lake, beneath the trees/ Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”

But this year, I’ve instead been walking in the still-bare forest and looking for Dutchman’s breeches.

In case you are wondering why some European left his pants in the woods, let me explain that the Dutchman’s breeches is my new favorite flower. Its bloom, just a half-inch tall, looks like an upside-down pair of white pantaloons, belted at the waist with a yellow rope. Native to this part of the eastern United States, it’s one of the first wildflowers of spring, popping up in late March or early April, flowering for a couple of weeks and disappearing as quickly as it came. Its entire growing season — from the time its first green shoot emerges from the earth to the moment its last bit of green foliage dies for the year — is just a couple of months.

Yet so much life comes from those delicate trousers. It’s one of the first foods in the forest after a long winter, and a crucial bit of sustenance for the queen bumblebee. When she emerges from her overwintering nest in the ground (the other bees die during the winter), she stretches her long tongue into the Dutchman’s breeches to reach its nectar, which nourishes her as she lays the eggs that will replenish the colony with the next generation of workers.

The Dutchman’s breeches are part of a class of plants felicitously known as “spring ephemerals.” They appear on the forest floor before the trees have leafed out, taking advantage of the sunlight. They flower, go to seed and die back within just six to 12 weeks. These are flowers you generally won’t find at florists: They are bluebells and bloodroot, trout lilies and toothwort, spring beauties and rue anemone. They are joined by other flowers that, while not “true” ephemerals (their foliage lasts a bit longer), generally share the same category: the great white trillium, hepatica, star chickweed and mayapple.

They are notoriously difficult to cultivate, hard to transplant and even harder to grow from seeds. It can take seven years from the time a trillium seed is planted to the appearance of just one of its three-petal flowers. Ephemerals are finicky and fussy plants, growing only in forests and typically near streams. They aren’t as bold and colorful as garden-variety flowers, and most don’t even have a scent. You won’t spot spring ephemerals from your car window with an “ooh” and an “ah.” To find them, you have to go on a treasure hunt in the forest. Their flowers can be tiny — sometimes just a millimeter or two — and you could easily miss them if you don’t look carefully.

That is just the point.

#wildflowers #ephemerals #spring wildflowers #Dutchman’s breeches

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elementalgod-aj · 8 months

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Anthro Allies Remastered (Part 10)

Now the Third and Final Part of the Arthropods

Endoterygota

Emorrossa (Insect Queen)

Lord Hexagath (Insect King)

Sawfly

Buzza (Sawfly)

Team

Stem sawfly

Horntail

Cedar wood wasp

Webbed Leaf

Xyelid

Megalodontes

Parasitic Wasps

Crimson the Abominable (Thistledown velvet ant)

The Hoard

P. Wood wasp

Sirex Woodwasp

Ichneumon Wasp

Gall wasp

Chalcid Wasp

Fairy wasp

Ensign Wasp

Crowned Wasp

Cuckoo wasp (Emerald wasp)

Velvet Ant (Cow killer)

Spider Wasp (Tarantula Hawk)

Tiphiid wasp

Scoliid wasp

Mammoth Wasp

Cockroach wasp (Jewel Wasp)

Sand digger wasp

Cicada Killers

Ant hunter wasp

Bee wolf

Aphid wasp

Eusocial Wasp

Queen Assaut

King Vespa

Prince Axe

Princess Strike

Warriors

Hornets

Yellow jackets

European wasps

Paper Wasps

Executioner wasps

Warrior wasps

Potter wasps

Hover wasps

Pollen wasps

Honey Wasp

Ants

Queen Amber

King Ore

Prince Beryl

Princess Siafu

Special Forces

Acrobat Ant, Dracula Ant, Exploding Ant, Mafia Ant, Shining Guest Ant, Sugar Ant

Colony

Black Ants (Garden worker), Red Ants (forager worker)

Argentine Ants (Warrior), Erratic Ants (sun workers), Needle Ant (Warrior), Ghost Ant (Scout), Stink Ants (aphid and caterpillar farmer), cone ant (pest control)

Eciton Ants (Generals/Tanks), Driver Ants (Army)

Trap Jaw Ants (Trappers), Dinosaur Ants (Moon Worshippers)

Diving Ant (Swimmer), Honey Pot Ants (Food dealers), Crazy Ants (Wild cards), Amazon Ants (Raider), Carpenter Ants (Builders), Tree Ants (Warriors), Hodor Ant (Bouncer), Giant forest ants (gladiators)

Leaf Cutter Ants (Builders), Weaver Ants (handmaidens and caretakers), Lemon Ants (mushroom growers), Pharaoh Ants (communication), Harvester Ants (harvesters), Pirate Ants (rogues), Raider Ants (raider), Electric ants (warriors), Fire Ants (Warriors), Big headed ants (Guard)

Bees

Queen Apidae

King Apo

Prince Kyle

Princess Pollen

Bee Hive

Dwarf/Asian Honey bee, Giant/European Honey Bee, Dog Bee, Sugar Bag bee (Honey makers), Carpenter bee (Builders), Bumblebee (Nectar collector), orchid bee (Flower manager), Sweat Bee (workers), Long horned Bees (Workers), Digger Bees (nest builders), Mining Bees (Mining and Excavation)

Plasterer bee (builder), Polyester bee (cloth maker)

Carder bee (Collectors), Leafcutter bee( (Weaver), Mason bee (molder), Wallace giant Bee (blacksmith)

Pantaloon Bee (Guards)

Australian Bee (soldiers)

Daniel and Lyon (lacewing & antlion)

Xan (Snakefly)

Zip(Alderfly)

Grounder (Ground beetles)

Live wire (Telephone pole beetle)

Knock Knock (Deathwatch beetle)

Lucky (Ladybug)

Lumi-Nate (Firefly)

Adorn (Jewel beetle)

IronShell/Ira (Horned Scarab beetle)

Horns (Stag Beetle)

George Schmutz (Dung beetle)

Red Rover (Rove beetle)

Ballin (Boll weevil)

Waxer (Giraffe Weevil)

Twist (Stylops)

Twiddle (Stylops)

Harleigh (Butterfly/Moth)

Eugene (Monarch Butterfly)

Genevieve (Silk Moth)

Cassidy (Caddisfly)

Bethany (House/Horse Fly)

Pesky (Gnat/Midge)

Zika (Mosquito)

Rome (Hover/Robber/Crane fly)

Sting (Scorpionflies)

Ichor (Fleas)

Previous/Next

(For More Information About The Earthdemons, Neo demons, The Anthro allies , the O'Kong family and more of theses characters as well as updates please visit the @the-earthdemon-hub for more)

#my art #my ocs #elementalgod aj #aj the elementalgod #isle 0 #Toonverse ocs #The Watchful Eye #Watchful Eye #O'Kong Family #Earthdemons #Neo Demons #Anthro Allies #hexapoda #insects

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libidomechanica · 7 months

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“Fool”

A Kelly lune sequence

Morning on this body decorate the ground, let bee.

With the bounty wrong. And thus singly well-conduct’s less?

Today when I be? Fool! Lights are much depends of hate?

Saw nothing let’s lay, and God stand, whatever I do!

Nor can body, we that all displease. The clubs no more.

If lowliness town! No, no, not I. But the lilies.

Should connected woes. A sheathenish. Bid me too near.

That which man may regard to Aristotle. For all?

Juan consent’—consent. Each other show’d with Ismail’s ours.

He fixed the class is fit to virtue prefer a spark.

Ah wanton music’s charming, which men vain., Cupid’s blood.

In our mothers also have our fame, it is vertue, truth.

Cite is, than his larger soul, like picture, how I love.

For Wit is foiled. Their create Ideas in their shafts.

And if his golden as a voyage or vessel lost.

’Er them gold, and fashion. Come in a grey hairs bid come!

Beams, but now she knew the true? When Julia did not pass.

I will not of Woman face; wit tempt further. The night.

Pardon where Vertue is come a library, and all be.

With muffled this glass. What still these Four which seem’d to bee.

Will be. Now for fear my Garment quite a paragon.

Since God is filled window blew bubbled, the long to light.

Come, Madam—hist! More bright like two people say his arms.

That was near history; but when my wings, to scold, but, ah!

And wonder in an evil sprite, and she queen they be?

Not that besides the ball. An Inner Meaning hello.

But, ah, Desire? Nonsense for ever see Brooklyn.

Now Juliana stung! Bats, blind, lest soil took pity.

Such a one Why will. Wherein with stamina so steals.

Cried. Towne fierce tears, of counsellors’ for malice still the Sage?

I must want to row; in thee, as swan or snow, his soul!

And I don’t make me this child, without younger brother.

But you in men. Albeit all; I could kill his child.

And so steal on peal, the grass. The photos anymore.

And thee afternoon the Sea? But bravest, with edge-tools!

Bid me through the destroyed. No one column; date, Falmouth.

But that I can’t but once. Fear she that Donna Inez.

Did not in looked pines. Smoking dress, often fifty rhymes.

I lost pulse of chromatical, but is fine-pointed.

Father blood, not knowledge. Was it outlasts in good nights.

Look we for words, the glow tells to retort the mart; swords.

Our state of youth: but, finding they feel? A Haire than one?

Dominion. Can everywhere, for a stone to pick up.

But sweeter stresses. These contented on Nelly Gray!

All your confounded fawn came troop, to hold the tulip?

The bee? And see how or what—I never has made up.

When a female. Him all within its grasshoppers warm.

And all the Seraskier. And Lilly, why man would be.

To this same heaven’s Angels known; and the fair. Your purse.

The work of you here? Inez were vanish: wept they grief.

Must I, who would refused it, and rain. Of burning Post?

As e’er begun. Hee will displease their midst of fellow!

He reader!—Because it but on pantaloons or booze.

The Madeira to the human fair! He would enter.

Wretched the woods were remains? As change she stand the branch.

Ashes to weary of love, give me now! With the true?

Indeed! Here, now, and on the drying through destroying.

Father cases, is the great word about his first-fruits.

The frock and rose. He too great with a heavy measure!

Charlotte, having now. What kind of his own nature light.

A still cries, Forsooth, let bee. And when they sought up true.

For half an honest speech. Or calm around, in shining.

And if the flowers. I’ll calls friend scrawled on the stomachs.

While Dame sans merci hath a far mountain posts themselves?

Such I grieve thee! Thou shalt not one of the wild bird’s wing.

Of polish fashion. Two signs o’er a flower and flow.

And grape could kill? As in the gaunt famine, and this whole.

Poor grapes is philosophic in our beauty, you know.

At my legs. The latest things are pretty child will spin.

Who was a fine,—even survive the motion. What sigh.

Love without desires. The quiet limits, but them.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #187 texts #Kelly lune sequence

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stevensalerno · 1 year

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Just the ENDS! -a look at endpapers created for many of my picture books

Not every one of the 38 picture books I’ve illustrated to date have end papers art included… perhaps only about a third do. (usually it’s a publisher’s budgetary issue) But when the publisher does give the green light on a picture book project to include the end papers, I’m thrilled! It’s always fun and challenging to devise and create a thematic pattern reflecting the subject and feel of the story.

Posted here are some endpapers I’ve created over the years for various picture books:

^ above: endpapers from, Wild Child -written & illustrated by Steven Salerno -August 2015 Abrams Books for Young Readers. (gouache & digital)

^ above: endpapers from, Wild Horse Annie Friend of the Mustangs (nonfiction) written by Tracey Fern & illustrated by Steven Salerno - April 2019 by Farrar Straus Giroux. (gouache & digital)

^ above: endpapers from, The Secret Code Inside You -all about your DNA (nonfiction) written by Rajani LaRocca, MD & illustrated by Steven Salerno -Released in 2021 by Little Bee Books. (digital)

^ above: endpapers from, Pantaloon -written by Kathryn Jackson & illustrated by Steven Salerno -March 2010 Golden Books/Random House. (gouache & digital)

^ above: endpapers from, Love from MADELINE -written by John Bemelmans Marciano & illustrated by Steven Salerno (in the style of the creator of MADELINE, Ludwig Bemelmans) Released in Jan 2022 by Viking Books for Young Readers (Penguin-Random House) (gouache & digital)

^ above: endpapers from, PRIDE The Story of Harvey Milk and the Rainbow Flag (nonfiction) written by Rob Sanders & illustrated by Steven Salerno -April 2018 by Random House. (digital)

^ above: endpapers from, Harry Hungry! -written & illustrated by Steven Salerno -February 2009 Harcourt Children’s Books. (gouache & digital)

^ above: endpapers from, BOOM! -written by Mary Lyn Ray & illustrated by Steven Salerno -June 2013 Hyperion Books/Disney. (gouache & digital)

^ above: endpapers from, PASS GO And Collect $200 The Real Story of How MONOPOLY Was Invented (nonfiction) written by Tanya Lee Stone & illustrated by Steven Salerno -July 2018 by Henry Holt & Co/Christy Ottaviano Books. (digital)

^ above: endpapers from, Goldenlocks and the Three Pirates -written by April Jones Prince & illustrated by Steven Salerno -October 2017 Farrar Straus Giroux/Margaret Ferguson Books. (gouache & digital)

#picture books #publishing #children's books #Steven Salerno #illustration #end papers

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adriftinhilbertspace · 1 year

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when you see a bee at a flower and theyve got their little pollen pantaloons on. retruth

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unseeliej · 2 years

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Bee butts, bee butts! Here is a female carpenter bee on some amaranth, and some very chonky little pantaloons on sage. #bees #pollination #pollinators #carpenterbees #nativepollinators #flowersofinstagram #flowers #flowerstagram #flowersmakemehappy #bugs #plants #gardening #garden https://www.instagram.com/p/CivCxdvOJOL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#bees #pollination #pollinators #carpenterbees #nativepollinators #flowersofinstagram #flowers #flowerstagram #flowersmakemehappy #bugs #plants #gardening #garden

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ifelten · 2 years

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Pragtbuksebi (Dasypoda hirtipes)

Pantaloon Bee (Dasypoda hirtipes)

#Pragtbuksebi #Dasypoda hirtipes #Dasypoda #Pantaloon Bee #Bi #Bee #Insekt #Insect #Hymenoptera #Årevinger #Topbjerg #Mark #Field #Sommer #Summer #Blåhat #Knautia #Field Scabious

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grenscribbl · 2 years

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The escapades of Katai, part 2

Part 1 is here if you haven’t read it yet.

Part 3

Warnings: More fight scenes, with something akin to smut in the end.

“No, no this can’t be happening. I can’t stay here!” Katai thinks to herself while anxiously pacing through the room.

She had awakened in a room, her injuries healed. When she had tried to leave, she found that the door was locked. A guard on the other side informed her that they had been ordered to not allow her to exit the room until the king had decided her fate. She asked about what that might be, and the guard responded that she would most likely be thrown in the dungeon for disturbance of peace and for assaulting the king. She wasn’t sure why they hadn’t done that in the first place, humoring herself with the thought that this Desha guy might actually be a good person. She didn’t plan to stick around and find out.

There is a single window in the room, however, the room itself is very far from the ground. She decides to risk it and begins gathering her things. Before she is about to make her exit, she hears the door unlock, and when it opens 2 guards appear in the doorway. They immediately notice her position and attempt to stop her by restraining her. In a fit of panicked rage, she lets out a yell and hurls the guards off her. She dashes to the window and, before making her way out, salutes the pair that have already started to get up.

The fall doesn't take long, she braces for impact by enforcing her limbs with energy, this time successfully managing to get away without any damage. Without any other goal in mind than just trying to get away from her pursuers, she heads into the city for a better chance to hide and decides to take refuge in a tavern. The tavern is cozy and there are enough patrons to help her blend in. She sits down at the bar and buys a drink, slowly nursing it and thinking over her life choices. The peaceful moment of reconciliation doesn't continue for long as someone slams into her back, forcing her to spill her drink. That was the last of her gold. She was trying to gain some solace after her undignified defeat, but she was now forced to face the reality of her failure once again. Whoever made her last money spill out all over the counter and her lap would not be getting away with that. She swiftly turns around to see the party at fault. It was a blonde man, dressed in a red top and ridiculous puffy pantaloons. She can also see that he was not the only one at fault - it appeared that a quarrel had ensued between him and 3 other patrons. Not really her problem, but someone would have to pay for her drink.

“Hey! Which of you assholes did this?”

The group starts to chuckle “It's pretty obvious that it was that pathetic mongrel on the floor!” one of them says while pointing to the dazed man on the floor.

“He clearly didn't run into me on his own” Katai states.

“Who's to say he didn't?”

“Listen, I’ve had a bad week, I really don't care which one of you 3 did it, just buy me a new drink and there won't be any trouble. I'll even forgive you for messing with my gear.”

“Did you hear that guys? This flea thinks we owe her!” the group bursts into laughter.

“And if we don't, what will you do about it, hm?”

A grin spreads across her face as she leaps towards them with her fists glowing “Then I guess I will have to collect what’s mine by force”.

Katai was in a nasty mood. Her pride had been wounded and she wasn’t above taking her frustration out on anyone who stood in the way of her wallowing in self-pity. It doesn’t take much to take these guys down – they’re just rowdy civilians with no combat experience, excluding the occasional tavern brawl. She swiftly dodges each sloppy swing, and delivers a gut punch to one, a hook to another and an uppercut to finish off the last one.

The barman had taken notice of this scuffle and, without any additional questions about who is at fault, orders the doorman to escort all of the parties involved outside.

Once outside, Katai notices that the man that had been thrown at her was also tossed out. He appears to still be dazed, but is attempting to gather himself and stand up. Feeling slightly guilty that her involvement caused him to be tossed out as well, she decides to offer him a hand, which he accepts, and pulls him up. Once upright, she could notice that not only he had a good few inches on her height-wise, but that he was rather bulky as well. How he managed to get thrown without any struggle is beyond her.

“Thank you for your assistance” the man says, attempting to present himself in a dignified manner.

Katai sighs, “Don’t mention it. Really, don’t.”

“I apologize if this comes off as intrusive, my good lady, but I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be quite distraught.”

“What, you figured out all that from a small tussle?” Katai snorts.

“Not entirely. You could say that I have analytical expertise when it comes to people” he boasts.

Katai rolls her eyes, “Whatever works for you, I guess. Unless you know any nobles in need of a bodyguard or something like that, I don’t think you can give me what I’m looking for.”

The man appears to be quite offended by this statement, which is made obvious by an exaggerated pout. “I beg your pardon? I’m fairly certain that I exude an aura of nobility!” he huffs.

Katai thinks for a moment, while observing the man. He did indeed stand out from the rest of the civilians. Who else would wear such a flashy and impractical outfit, if not someone who wants to show off their status?

“Alright, so what do you need me to do?” she asks.

“As I mentioned before, I have a talent for reading people, and I also enjoy a good gamble, or, at least the rewards it brings. Unfortunately, rowdy bar folk quickly become suspicious of someone on a winning streak and that is exactly why we are standing out here right now. It would greatly benefit me, if you were to accompany me as someone who enforces fair play. These petty squabbles do get quite tiresome.”

Katai chuckles “If you’re using your power to gain advantage, you can’t really call it fair. But who am I to judge, as a fellow opportunist. Heck, before this whole quarrel I was considering which rock I should crawl under for the night.”

“You don’t have any lodgings here?”

“I could only afford a couple of days in a tavern and that ale in the tavern was my last copper” she sighs.

The man declares with a harrumpf “Well, that just won’t do! If you are to act as my guard, I can’t have you loafing around like some sort of undignified vagrant! Your presence should intimidate my adversaries, not convince them to throw copper at you! Since you will be working for me, I will allow you to reside in one of my guest rooms, for a deduction from your reward, naturally.”

A bit surprised, but equally relieved Katai says: “Deal. The name’s Katai, by the way.” she extends her hand for a shake.

He extends his own “You may address me as Sir Despa”

Heading towards the outskirts of the city, they reach Despa’s mansion. If Katai was skeptical about his status before, she was completely convinced that this man was a noble. Despa guided her to one of the guest rooms, and not long after Katai was out like a candle.

During the next week, as they had agreed, Katai accompanied Despa to his gambles each evening, while taking up some chores in the mansion to lessen the decrease of payment for her stay. During the first evenings, people didn’t really think much of Katai being present during the games. This changed after day 3, when she had once again shielded Despa from an incoming blow, and had flung the offending party through the window of the tavern. After that no one dared to raise a hand against her employer while she was present. They had grown accustomed to each other’s presence and had developed a professional friendship. They would swap tales of clients, humorous situations from their pasts and occasionally open up about their frustrations. Katai became comfortable enough to share how she came to the Underworld, about her unsuccessful search for employment, and, while leaving out the parts about fighting the Order of The Underworld and possibly being a wanted criminal, her defeat in a fight against a huge, snarky asshole.

“That is a bit odd.” Despa remarks, “From what I have witnessed and from what you have told me, you seem to have a good grasp on your ability. If you lose control of it during bouts of frustration, there is definitely room for growth. Would you like me to investigate? For an -”

Katai finishes, interrupting his sentence, “Additional price. Yes, Despa, I’m well aware of your principles.”

She ponders, her eyes scanning the entirety of the kitchen. While she had gotten what she was looking for, the bitter taste of defeat was still lingering. That last headbutt was satisfying, but it pales in comparison to the rest of the fight, during which she was basically playing the role of a potato sack. If she ever comes across an opponent of a similar level, she would not walk away as easily in her current state.

“Alright, deduct it from my pay or whatever.”

Despa reaches his hands over the table, “Give me your hands.”

Katai does as instructed. She observes as Despa closes his eyes and, as if a spell had been uttered, the world around them goes silent. She was sure this was something else, considering that he had briefly mentioned that he had barely inherited any powers from his parent, and that this was only, albeit sharpest tool.

After a few minutes, the atmosphere returns to normal and Despa opens his eyes.

He begins to speak “Hmm. Yes, as I suspected, there is indeed room for growth. You have a strong will, that has done you well. You have decent proficiency in martial arts, but it’s far from perfect. At your current state the way you use your power is more akin to a wild animal, than an experienced fighter. This power is something all living beings have, you could call it life energy, aura, a soul, whatever pleases you. Though, from what I’ve read, not many practice this form of energy manipulation as of late. How did you come to learn such a skill?”

“I’ve had it for a few years now. I received a torn parchment as part of payment from an old man as thanks for fending off wild beasts from his livestock. He mentioned something about not having anyone to pass it onto, but not wanting the knowledge to go to waste. At the time I felt like I had been scammed, but when I actually read it, it turned out to be worthwhile.”

Katai shows him the parchment she had tucked away in her pocket.

After a brief inspection Despa speaks “I see. So, you followed this guide to learn how to draw the energy out and cover different areas of your body with it. The paper is torn at the part where it says ‘Give it form by…’, did you ever find out what that means?”

“No, I did not. And when I returned there, I found that the farm had been raided and his half-decaying corpse was laying near the stables.”

“How unfortunate. But we shall make do with what we have. Let’s head to the training chamber.”

The training chamber was spacious, considering that it was located indoors. Despa points to a large rock in the middle of it.

“Alright, don’t hold back and try to put as much energy into your punches as possible. I need to see where you are currently to decide how we continue further on.”

Katai nods. She walks to the rock, takes her best fighting stance and, with fists ignited, proceeds to strike it. She feels like she has done a pretty decent job – the was rock now decorated with 3 fist-sized indents. She turns to Despa, wearing a satisfied smirk.

“How’s this?”

“No, no. This won’t do at all. From what I’ve read, adepts of this power can at least fracture something like this, while masters would just simply split it in half. Also -” he begins, as he takes her hand and points to the scrapes on her knuckles, “why aren’t you using proper brawling gloves? It appears that the energy fortification doesn’t provide you with much protection currently.”

“I used to before I learned the skill, after that I didn’t see much use for them. I get scrapes and bruises here and there pretty often, so I never paid much attention to them.”

“I can’t say I approve of this type of reckless behavior, but considering that this is the weapon you have grown most accustomed to, it will have to do. I would like to try something, if you would allow me.” he says.

Katai shrugs “Sure.”

Despa takes her other hand. She can immediately visualize an ignited fist using the surrounding energy to form the shape of a gauntlet. After this vision, she also sees an image of something she doesn’t know what to call, as she had never seen anything like it before.

After the images disappear, Despa tells her that he has shown her 2 mental images – one showing her she could attempt to manifest her power better, the other giving her an idea how to notice the vulnerabilities in her surroundings.

“Currently the way you use your life energy is similar to flexing a muscle when preparing for impact. Your goal is to shape it into a tangible weapon. In the meantime, I will pick out some theory books on martial arts for you to study later.” he adds.

And so, during the next couple of weeks, in between chores and her duties as Despa’s personal security, she keeps practicing. The reading material gives her insight on many techniques she hadn’t known about, but without practicing them in action this information isn’t of much use. She does manage to figure out how to give her energy a form, by visualizing the shape she wants it to take. She decided to give the energy the form of armor, since she mostly uses it that way anyway. Gauntlets for her fists, pauldrons to cover her shoulders, a chest plate to shield her torso and so on. She could only cover 2 parts of her body at the same time with this stabilized form, since holding it requires focus, but that was still a huge leap forward. The rock still stands unbothered, with variously-sized crevices now covering it entirely. While Katai had managed to give her power shape, which had significantly increased her damage output, she hadn’t entirely understood how to combine it with the insight Despa had given her.

Despa felt very proud of himself as he had once again provided an apprentice with the guidance they needed to bring out their full potential. Katai was doing much better than she was when they first met. She seemed to have regained some pride in her abilities. He had tried to provide her with sparring companions, but every time he invited over his acquaintances from the Order, she had managed to slip away unnoticed. Now that he thinks about it, she did seem to disappear every time they had been in the presence of the knights. She hadn’t mentioned anything specific, so he just assumed that she was generally not fond of law enforcement, which wasn’t unusual for mercenaries. After a bit of consideration, he decides to try a slightly different approach. He raises his palm to his mouth.

“Brother, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Katai was preparing breakfast as a part of her routine during her stay in Despa’s mansion. Although she wasn’t much of an early riser herself, that man really liked to sleep in. Not long after she had finished preparing the meal Despa enters the kitchen, uttering a drowsy “good morning”, and takes a seat at the table. Katai responds with an affirmatory grunt, as she begins to set the table. In the middle of their meal, they hear a knock at the door.

“Could you get that? I invited my brother over, that’s probably him.” Despa says as he yawns.

Katai gets up from the table and approaches the entrance. His brother, huh. Despa had briefly mentioned his brothers during their conversations, so she couldn’t help but wonder what this person would be like. Upon opening the door she freezes, as she is met by a large, hooded man with an unmistakably familiar face. Desha’s eyes widen, showing that he was equally shocked.

“YOU!!!” they both exclaim loudly.

“Ah, so you have already met before? That saves us some time on introductions.” Katai hears Despa approaching from behind.

Desha sighs, as he pinches the bridge of his nose “Despa, is this the favor you requested? This is the crazy woman who stormed the castle entrance 3 weeks ago!”

“Is that so? That explains her avoidant behavior around the presence of the Order! Why didn’t you mention this sooner, Katai?” Despa asks.

“WHY?! Because I was trying to avoid being arrested! And considering your actions when it comes to money, I was pretty sure that you would’ve turned me in for a reward!”

“Hm, fair point.”

“You were never a wanted fugitive to begin with,” Desha groans, “we were planning to let you off with a warning, but you fled before the situation could be resolved!”

Katai attempts to change the subject “Despa, what is this favor he mentioned?”

“I concluded that you wouldn’t be as intimidated by someone who isn’t an enforcer of the law. So I asked brother for assistance with your martial arts training.”

“You thought, that the whole-ass king would be less intimidating!?” she exclaims.

“Now, now. Despite his unfriendly demeanor and less-than-stellar appearance,” Despa is interrupted by an annoyed growl from Desha, “he is an excellent tutor.”

Katai pulls Despa out of hearing range and whispers “He is the one who beat my ass before, and I sure as hell won’t give him the satisfaction of doing it again!”

“Well, then this will be an excellent chance for you to practice your mindfulness in action.” Despa remarks as Desha enters the mansion and closes the door behind him.

After he hangs his cloak, Katai notices that Desha isn’t wearing his regal attire, but is instead donning something similar to a soldier’s training uniform.

“Hey, how come you never told me you were a prince?”

“There was ever an occasion which required me to do so.” Despa shrugs.

Once in the training chamber, Desha takes note of the visibly pummeled rock.

“Oh, so this has been your biggest adversary during these past weeks?” he snidely remarks.

“Shut up.” she snaps back.

Despa interrupts them “Bear in mind, brother, I still need her to do her job in the evening, so don’t take it too far.”

“I won’t if she won’t.”

And with that Despa leaves the training chamber.

Desha sighs “Let’s get this over with.”

“What, you didn’t bring your stick with you?”

“Why would I carry that thing all the way here? It’s heavy and would attract unnecessary attention. Besides, I can make you fly equally as far with a wooden one.” he says as he picks up a large wooden club from the wall rack.

They take positions on opposite sides of the room and face each other. She notices the atmosphere once again shift the same way as it did during their first battle. This time, however, she knew what to expect and would be more cautious. She takes a sparring stance and considers her options. Since he was taking the same stance as before, she wouldn’t be able to predict his movements.

“What are you doing? If you won’t strike first, I will.” he says as he sprints towards her.

Katai was expecting this, so she braces for impact as Desha swings his club downwards. She forms a gauntlet and manages to block the hit, but doesn’t notice an incoming kick, which forces her to stumble backwards. He next attempts to thrust the club into her chest, but she manages to block it with both of her forearms in the nick of time. She continues to take on a defensive position, while trying to predict his movements. The speed and force of his attacks don’t leave her with much room for thought, as she she struggles to keep up and not get knocked off her feet.

“You have to strike at some point. You won’t be able to defeat any opponent by only defending yourself. If you’re waiting for an opening, you won’t find one.” Desha states while continuing his barrage of attacks.

The attacks were starting to overwhelm her. He obviously won’t give her a chance to strike back, so she would have to create one for herself. She decides to parry the next swing with her right hand, positions herself outside of his attack angle on the left, and delivers a hook to the head with her left hand. This doesn’t seem phase him, as without delay he turns and swings the club at her, slamming the side of her torso and arm. She manages to manifest the breastplate at the last second, but is still sent flying from the impact. He walks towards the now prone Katai.

“Nice try, but we’re out of time for today.” he says and offers her a hand, which she reluctantly accepts, and hoists her up.

“Thanks” she mumbles.

“I won’t go as easy on you tomorrow.” Desha chuckles as he exits the training chamber.

During the forthcoming week, Katai would spar with him each morning. She had no clue how the king managed to fit these sessions in his supposedly oh-so busy schedule, but she decided not to pry into his personal affairs. Despa’s assumption was correct, as now when she could finally put theory into practice, her skills had greatly improved. Desha’s strikes would no longer overwhelm her, though he still had the upper hand in some areas. When it came to ground defense, she had managed to pin him down a single time, which was a struggle on its own, considering the size difference. She wasn’t able to hold him for long as he used his lightning magic to lightly zap her, so that she would let go. He also though it was hilarious to watch her struggle when he had sat on her, at least until she managed to bite into the side of his lower back.

They had managed to develop a sense of mutual understanding. Both enjoyed sparring and would discuss many possible strategies. They also had some similarities in their demeanor - both sarcastic, prideful and enjoyed mocking their opponents. Katai, however, was distinctly more hot-headed and couldn’t keep her composure as easily. This trait proved to be useful, as after an especially nasty taunt from Desha, she managed to finally shatter the large rock, when he stepped out of the way of her attack.

“The rapid advancement of your skills is quite noticeable. As I would expect from someone under my guidance.” Despa remarks.

Both fighters had managed to work up a sweat during yet another brawl, and had decided to take a small break to replenish their strength.

“Yes, yes, and I will be eternally grateful to you for that, my prince.” Katai replies in a joking manner.

“Mock me if you wish, but the sour disposition you once held seems to have cleared up entirely.”

Katai wants to say something clever, but gets interrupted by Desha asking: “Are you already worn-out from your fruitless labor or are you prepared to carry on?”

“Ready” she groans.

As she turns around, she freezes for a moment when she notices that Desha had removed his shirt. She anticipated that he would be well-built, there was nothing surprising about that. Though, considering that this was the first time she had seen him without one on, it was… distracting. She feels a bit flustered, but decides to carry on as she had before.

They take their positions, and Katai decides to take the offensive route this time as she sprints towards him. They exchange a few blows, but a driblet of sweat trickling down a pec makes her oblivious to a strike she would have otherwise noticed. When she recovers from the impact, she discovers that the force of the blow had thrown her nearly to the entrance of the chamber. A sharp pain resonates through her torso, as she hadn’t fortified it to lessen the damage.

“You could have easily countered that.” Desha states.

Katai looks away embarrassed “Well, I suppose I was still weary from the last fight.”

“Fine, we’re done for today in that case. Should I send over a healer?”

“I think I’ll be able to get to the nearest one in town”

“Very well.”

He grabs his shirt and exits the chamber, raising his hand in a parting gesture to both of them.

Despa offers Katai a hand an allows her to lean on him for support. Unfortunately for her, this action allowed him gain slight insight into her change in behavior. He chuckles.

“It’s rather cute, actually.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“The fact that you got thrown across the room, because you were too busy ogling my brother.” he answers smugly.

Katai feels blood rush to her cheeks.

“We will never speak of this again.”

#fanfiction #king desha #ousama ranking #despa #desha #ranking of kings #oc x canon #ousama ranking oc

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