Eyepop’s Classic Ephemera

 What we have here, is a collection of about 3 years worth of goofy jokes, serious stories, less serious stories, character bios, and general shenanigans. 

Some of this stuff you may well have seen before, especially if you were on /a/ around the time I was, and some of this only got brief glimpses of daylight. 

So I’ll post everything here, in no particular order; if you’re a masochist you can read them all through top to bottom, but I don’t recommend that, pick and choose. 

All this stuff is being posted as is, no editing, so enjoy the raw early Eyepop. 

Without any any further ado:

1. Beelzebub Poem

2. Moth-chan Miscellania 

3. The Mantis-Head Greentext

4. Aurora Slime Girl Character

5. Musical Monstergirl Moments! (Inc Moth-chan’s slayer concert)

6. Grue Girl Character Description

7. SlapStickStrike’s Sandworm Setting

8. Bully the Ignis Greentext

9. Oshioki Ran Script


1. Beelzebub Poem — From January 2014, a verse-poem for Beelzebub since someone mentioned there was no love for her, and we were joking about poems at the time. I make no claims of being a competent poet, and it’s filled with cheeky references that I would expunge now, but it’s still charming…

O’ I walked out into that desert of despair for seven days and seven nights!
Lo, you followed me every step, O’ did you tempt me: night’s fall to day’s first light.
I thought your heart were a desert: Devoid of mercy,
In that desert I was trapped, but your love ran deep!
Full fathom five, in that sand my bones do lie!
That first night your buzzing filled my ears, as if to echo in my brains for a thousand years,
Your words reached me, but I saw you not,
Though on the second night you appeared! O’ your form was an abject idol I prostrated myself before!
Your breasts in 3 proud racks, o’ your myriad eyes, fur and claw!
Beelzebub! On the third night you touched me for the first time and I shivered in the desert dark,
I spilt my seed upon the dusty ground, with only my green thumb to ward any vengeful god!
For by the fourth night I was yours Beelzebub but I did not know it! You rested upon my back, O’ I screamed in praise of your breasts to the skies, as well as the merits of your creamy thighs!
I staggered the next day; I wept, I wept a well of tears! For I no longer struggled with your weight upon my shoulders: a useless Atlas, I had no clue where I was!
On the fifth night you lifted my burnt body to the heavens, I cupt your face and was awestruckt, yet you bid me see, and lo, I saw!
Your world was complete! The desert of despair was endless, O’ Beelzebub your bounty was truly boundless!
And on the sixth day was man not made? Yet this man, on the sixth night, was undone!
Did your torturous, full lips purse upon my own?
Did you suck my saliva, kiss my eyes for their moisture like your low kin?
I was but a sixth of a man! But you took my manhood, all of it, down the throat of your blessed world,
And in essence, I gave you mine!
Thus you left me, sobbing for you in the meagre light of the last dawn on our desert!
I slept a fitful sleep and I dreamt of you, as I had done since that first night when I had heard your voice, that invisible choir!
Lo, I awoke, and I did behold your devilish form above me: I saw your beautiful wings, the carapace of your limbs, the glory of your body!
Thus your bush was set ablaze by the setting of the sun,
And as the last day died I supt from your womb-well, but my thirst could not be slaked!
I was in despair, forsake’d!
And though I am a sinner, I found rest that Sunday! A dead-slug in it’s tomb-chamber!
I planted a red rose in the salt!
A blood red rose in that lifeless ground,
I cannot grow a thing with this red right hand!
O’ but a blood rose in that desert sand
Planted by that lead inside my head!
O’ would you call me a coward? Your words drip down like honey,
No matter what you say, do you love me?
Oh pick me up, shake me, shake!
That rattle, that is my death rattle,
My head in your hands, my chest beneath your feet!
Alas! Did you know me well? Well, Did you?
You can see right through me! You can see my flesh, shrink wrapt to my bones,
You can see deep into me, no! Don’t shy away now, Beelzebub,
Can you see my heart, shrivelled, dried and desiccated?
It was always like that though, devastated!
Pluck it out, it’s yours to keep, cradle it in your thorny hands,
Bathe it in the primordial soup of your soul, O’ your love’s so strong!
Revitalise it, shake out the sand and fill my heart to the brim,
And I shall rise for you, your Lazarus!
O’ I’ll shake spasmodically between your thighs, I’ll rattle your bones!
That’s our melody, too late, but it’s our song,
the shake, rattle and roll of the Danse Macabre!
Beezlebub! My bones are forever yours, raise me from the sands of time!
I’ve been picked clean by flies, maggots were my eyes, but my heart still beats!
Please, Do not ask!
In this desert made for two, It beats for you!


2. Moth-Chan Miscellania — The stuff I contributed to the “Butterfly Effect” pastebin. A collection of Moth-chan references from around March ’14. Seeing as how a lot of people in TFT don’t know who she is, and that’s a travesty, I’ll repost this, what you would overwise find on my pastebin.

>Uh-uh w-what? N-no, I don’t n-need m-my own pastebin! I-I-I’m n-not popular enough! This is just… Just you making f-fun of me r-right? P-please… I don’t need all this attention anons…
>…but t-thank you…

>Ah, why would you want m-me to start your thread?
>I-I can’t do it, I can’t go in front of all these people!
>…You’ve only done this to laugh at me, because of my stupid, ugly body, right anons?

>I-I can’t do it! Please! Let someone else do it, I’ll just do it wrong and the you’ll have to fix it anon!
>They’ll all laugh at me anon, I know they will! E-even if they don’t do it to my face… They’ll do it behind my back!
>…Y-You don’t do that do you a-anon? Laugh behind my back? Please, I’m begging you, i-if this is just a joke, please… Stop…
>…anon, please, don’t be so nice to me…

>She’s actually a butterfly, but she let’s everyone think she’s a moth because A) she’s too insecure to ever correct anybody and B) she has such low self esteem she thinks she doesn’t deserve to become a butterfly.

>N-No! It’s okay… No, I really didn’t want to do it…
>It’s okay! That M-Moth-chan is a lot prettier than me, I mean, it’s obvious that she was better for it… right?
>I m-mean, she’s all fully developed a-a-and I’m just… Like… T-t-t-this… I’m s-sorry!

I totally imagine Moth-chan as a self loathing/needy body hating/image problem possessing girl who wants to love and be loved, who wants to be able to freely express herself.

>She thinks all her problems will go away when she under goes her metamorphoses, and it seems to do so.
>Guys pay more attention to her now, anon slightly forgotten in her new found popularity.
>It goes rally shitily because she’s simply not emotionally mature enough to deal with it.
>She enters into a mutually kind of awkward relationship with anon for comfort and safety.
>It goes kind of well, but both moth-chan and anon know that they’re not meant to be, that the relationship is stifling them both, and if they both wanted happiness and to find true love that they’d have to break up and forge their own paths as friends.
>anon watches moth-chan finally find her legs and her own relationship, going from metamorphoses to emancipation.
>Finally content that his dear friend has found love and happiness he settles down to his own search for love.

I think the mothmen are totally separate from our “moth”-chan.

I’ve yet to see any background info on her, like the little bios KC does, which kinda gives us free reign, which is nice in a way.

I wish we got more art of her being incredibly socially awkward trying to interact with anyone as an even younger looking catterpillar-chan. Imagine her trying to interact with anyone with those little claw arms, they’d have to be so close to her.

If its not a younger C-chan, imagine her dealing with someone in those close quarters and trying to manage her sizeable bust too. She’d be a wreck every time.

Plus she can’t even make a fast getaway, she’d have to like, hide her head and inch away in a luminous, teary blush and a runny nose.

>A-Anon, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, b-but c-could you help me with all these books?
>T-They a-asked me to return them to the library for them, ha ha… I c-couldn’t say no…
>Ah! Anon! I’m going to drop the bottom one, p-p-p-please! I don’t want to ruin these b-books!
>Haaa, t-thank you s-so much, uh, Eep! I’m so sorry! Y-you have to be so c-close to me!
The books shift and sway.
>Ah! Tha-Whe-Whe-whe-where is your hand?!
The books are now spread across the floor in disarray.
>Nooooooooooo… Ah, why do I have to be s-so useless! These stu-stupid arms. >sniff> Oh! Anon! That was all my fault, I’m s-sosososososo sorry!
>No! Y-you don’t have to help me anymore! It’s my fault and now the books are.. The books are..
She bends down and uses all her arms to clutch the books to her front and runs away. Anon casually strolls up to her side, grabbing some of the more precariously placed books, she jumps, and anon moves to ensure the books don’t leave her small grasp.
>A-Anon… Y-you’re reeally c-c-c-close…
>Anon! No! Y-you can’t be seen like this! With me! P-p-people will think you like me, NO! N-n-not l-l-l-likemelikeme, Ididn’tmeanthat! No, don’t worry about it!
>The others will t-think worse of you b-because f me… I-i couldn’t stand it if that happened, n-not j-just because you’re so… sweet…
>No! Y-you don’t need to take any of the-ah, no, please! Let me take h-half of the books at least…
>w-why are you s-so kind…
Anon tactfully pretends he doesn’t see the caterpillar girl’s tears and her weak attempt to hold them in and hide them from him, shuffling not quite next to him, always slightly behind, no matter how much anon tries to match her pace.
He leaves her, with profuse thanks and a luminous, if slightly teary, blush, to as she put it “find a light s-snack” in the library.

Butterfly tan for president
Vice-President has to push her out on stage
>D-Does my suit look n-nice? I-Is it powerful? What if Putin-tan bullies me again? O-okay Mr Vice-President sir, if you s-say so. Ah, I’m sorry! I know you t-told me not to call you that, b-but, you’re the vice-president sir! EEP?! T-these were on?!
>uh huhm. U-uh P-People of America! W-we will not bow down to Putin-ta-Mr. Putin’s bullying of the Ukraine! I-It’s really mean, ok? D-d-d-d-don’t be a dick Putin-tan!
The VP butts in and tells the journalists its now question time.
All the journalists ask their questions in very nice, soft, polite tones of voice, each waiting their turn, trying not to spook then Commander in Chief of the world’s most advanced military.

>In her super girly diary, with a love-heart lock and all on it: Why did I say all that! I had such a good speech ready, I was going to rip Putin a new one, and I still can’t talk to Joe right… Aaaah, I’m so useless, this country doesn’t deserve a failure like me, I want to do my best, but… I guess I really am just too broken. Should I leave office myself before the senate impeach me?
>When she brings up her idea of leaving office early to the senate, they bully her into trying to set up a bill for an 8 year term instead.

Hope you liked our little Moth-chan rundown, more will probably be added. Say bye Moth-chan!


3. The Mantis-head, by Mayntis Randy. A goofy greentext from March ’14, basically having fun with the Fountainhead, obvs, because it deserves to be parodied at all times  plus Mantis girls always deserve more love  

It’s I was in college, the architecture dept., when I first met her; that intense mantis-girl, only known as H.R amongst the student body. The jokes were obvious and not required to be repeated here.
>I couldn’t tell much from her outer expressions, probably because she was a mantis-girl, funnily enough, but the passion and drive she had for architecture, art itself, far eclipsed my own ability and focus, far surpassed everyone.
>Yet I finished the course and she didn’t; she picked too many fights, was too stubborn, refused to yield to outside interference and compromise, I respected her for it, if only because I too afraid to follow in her foot steps.
>When she left, her final day, she packed up her workstation, the one beside me, the Mantis-Girl alienating herself led her to being shoved in the furthest corner, along with myself.
>She paused at the door, her expression the same deadpan as before, yet she looked in my direction for a brief second, and in that moment, I saw her illuminated from behind. Her slender form emphasised in the light, her monstrous appendages smudged with pencil, to match the smudge along the bridge of her nose, accidental transfer probably. As soon as she had looked, she had left, and the seat beside me almost echoed in it’s emptiness.
>Then years later her deadpan face reappeared in my life, she had been hired as a lead designer on a new project at the firm I did grunt draftsman work at, immediately I was elected to be her gofer, and I did the work gladly, her presence gave me a sense of purpose again.
>Yet as I worked harder she worked me harder, until one day she silently shoved me to one side and started scribbling on the floor plan I was completing. I refused to accept that; it may be her tower but it was my damn floor plan, even if her corrections were better.
>So I grabbed the pen out of her hand. Apparently that was a mistake.
>50 odd kilograms of mantis-girl slammed into my diaphragm, grabbing for the pen, her face was just below mine, and being this close I could swear I saw the slightest twitch in her eyebrow, the barest flush on her cheeks. She was serious.
>I’ve seen her scythes at work before, when we had to build paper models in class. She cut up the designs expertly in seconds and dumped the entire intricate mess in my lap to assemble; she delegated work when she was busy with her own assignments. At least I got the barest twitch of a smile when she saw I had managed not to fuck up making the damn thing.
>Now these very same scythes were going snicker-snack near my sack. My testicles ascended to somewhere near my kidneys.
>At this point, still struggling, she tried to slash the pen from my grip; only succeeding in shredding my one good suit however, yet in the pants shitting terror of a mantis-girl mid-attack I had thrown the pen on to my drafting desk.
>As the sleeves and back of my suit and shirt fell away, leaving me in embarrassing collar and cuffs like a low rate chippendale, we both locked eyes on the pen. Then each other. There was a definite downward angle to her brows now. Fuck.
>We jumped in unison, the old drafting table creaked in protest, the light spinning wildly, a drafting brush tickling my nape, I had a hand on the pen, the advantage of height. Turning on to my back I gave the Mantis a prideful look. Then I noticed I had lost this little battle, and probably the war too when I saw her preparing to jump, scythe held high.
>I couldn’t see the slash, but I could feel it, cold air met my legs and crotch, inwardly I bade farewell to my good pants and possibly my life.
>Yes! Here it is, the flashback of my life…
>Mostly drafting things for uni, then this company.
>My deep sigh apparently confused the mantis for a second, but it was enough time to notice my utter lack of clothes and the mantis girl’s warmth straddling my hips.
>Of course I got hard. I stayed hard too when the scythe slammed down beside my head when I tried to move. I think my dick even bounced on her pantie clad mons as she slapped away the sacrificial drafting pen I was attempting to placate her with, her free hand then held me down, her palm on my manubrium. Not like the pen could do anything for the hours of shredded paper I was currently lying on, naked. Life’s ridiculous.
>I ignored my dick for a second to focus on the girl above me, who seemed to be in a rather complex internal monologue, but the rapidly deepening flush about her cheeks gave me a clue as to my future ability to walk.
>She rocked back, and thinly gilded satin labia brushed down my length, I found no cause for complaint; and neither did she, repeating the motion in slow strokes.
>All too soon I felt a dampening along the length of those satin underthings, whether it was cause by her, I, or a mixture of our juices was redundant to us both, for together, we were ready.
>I attempted to move her skirt up, instead I found myself dazed, with a sythe to my throat. She had slammed me down, maliciously trying to deny me te sight of her hiking her pencil skirt up her hips, and shifting her panties beneath her garterbelt for ease of access.
>She fixated on my crotch, like she wanted to melt my cock like a cheap kaiju villainess, instead she simply shifted, flicked and swayed her hips till My glans slid down her entirety, from clit to entrance, and there she rocked teasing us both.
>I looked up at the Mantis-Girl straddling me, with her clothes in general disarray, nipples nigh poking through her shirt, ladders forming on her stockings, yet she didn’t care for any of that, simply wanting to catch my eye.
>So I looked her in the eye, looked as she slowly sunk herself down my entire length, her face going from deadpan to lascivious with every centimetre, millimetre.
>Thus she rode me, without care or mercy, but with a strange kind of gentleness to it; a scythe cupped my cheek, but the same hands pinned me down when I tried to escape after the third round, the same scythes that sunk into the desk within a hairs breadth of my ears when I tried to grab her hips.
>Looking back, I guess I have no better name for what happened that night, than “rape”, for I surely didn’t consent to be used as a sex doll. Yet, could I say I hated the Mantis girl quietly smiling to herself and clinging to my arm?
>Things didn’t change much after that long night, she still corrected my work, yet she gave me instructions as she did so, she explained her reasons in her quiet, monotone voice, and so I learnt, with a silently blushing Mantis-Girl trying to keep up appearances by my side.
>Of course I could never do more than look on as a spectator, a common plebeian gawping at a master artisan, as the Mantis continued her school-shattering work. I did as much as I could for her, and whenever I was there to help she seemed more sure, more steady. At least, that’s what I’m told. We often parted when she had to take care of competitions in different countries and she came back as much of a nervous wreck as a mantis girl could be.
>Even if she softened in my presence I still had a short leash, for others her indomitable spirit never wavered, her complete inability to compromise her visions brought her into conflict often.
>So it happened that she was fired from my firm, her visionary apartment complex half complete. She set up her own firm, she needed only to give me a single look to tell me that I was expected to follow. So with a sigh I walked out too. She didn’t even make me a partner, I was too precious as her first employee apparently.
>Her tower was gutted, every day she’d go and stare at the construction’s progress, sneak looks at the plans, steal in to the building itself. Everyday she grew more and more concerned, her perfect apartment complex was being adulterated, made inefficient, ugly, purposeless. It still carried her name too. I could see it gnawing away at her, even her nature expression failed to hide her irritation and agitation, and I knew then that something was going to give.
>Turns out what was going to give was 2/3rds of the support beams of the complex. The Mantis had been stealing dynamite and blasting caps on each of her visits, and she had finally put her plan in action. A note was left for me. “Sorry”.
>The media vultures were everywhere, I was constantly hounded by their baiting and their fear-mongering. My boss was in jail, awaiting trial, and I had to keep the firm running in her absence. Which was slightly tricky since she /was/ the firm, and she apparently had no idea how to operate a phone. If you were wondering, yes, I am a glorified receptionist, but I bet I get better deadpan, embarrassed, super quick hugs than you,
>Long story very short, she some how managed to get a lawyer good enough to get most of the charges dropped on technicalities or at the very least downgraded to something less serious. She was now a convicted felon, but a felon on probation, and a heavy fine; once again we were faced with building our firm from scratch, and we did.
>We rebuilt, and we rebuilt stronger, better and bigger. Our clients streamed in on her notoriety, and she built gorgeous building for them, of a style and class all of her own. She seemed to be utterly fearless, definitely she never asked for my help, but somehow I always knew when to give it.
>Thus her vision lead us here, standing atop her new testament to what a skyscraper ought to be, standing upon her declaration to the world, that compromise is a failure in and of itself, that personal confidence and vision is tantamount to success, not just financial, but of the entirety of one’s life.
>It also stood as a testament to our partnership, I feel she could’ve reached this spot without me, but I’m beyond thankful she gave me the chance to stand beside her and do all that I could too. So upon this spire, at the end of this story, amongst the naked steel and debris, I fell to one knee and proposed to my Mantis-Girl; I even almost got a smile out of her.

I have no idea why this is in this format/font. I’ll fix it?


4. Aurora Slime Girl Character — Star crossed lovers, Aurora slime girl. From March ’14 too, It’s basically a space slime, dripping down from space. What happens when dark energy and dark matter mix. So she has the appearence of a midnight black/blue/violet slime, with nebulae highlighting her features and giving her more distinction, with bits and blobs of her floating away into space rather than dripping onto the ground. Her name comes from her hair, which moves, shifts and changes colour, just like the Aurora Borealis.

Personality wise it’s kind of a mix between B-Movie science fiction film Kaijus, the old myths about the Aurora Borealis and Aurora, the goddess of the dawn.

So Imagine a kinda clingy girl, with a morbid personality, who loves to love. She’s got the outlook of a being that has existed as long as our universe has, or longer, if dark matter and/or energy is a constant, and universes and cyclical, but that’s balanced out by how temporal and brief the Aurora Borealis’ lights shine. She has the hungry and clinginess of like the blob, which goes for all things, she’ll want to be close to you, she’ll want a lot of “food”, whatever that may be, and she loves to love, which also comes from Aurora’s penchant for kidnapping men and having affairs with them. Finally she has a morbid streak from her namesake’s association with death, souls and omens, but it’s that wry, sardonic kind of morbidness.

Some quotes would be
“Even when this universe is reduced to nothing but iron atoms, floating uniformly in space, I’ll still love you~<3”
“I’ve seen stars be born, burn out and fade to nothing; one day you’ll be dust too, yet I’ll remember you better than a galaxy of supernovae.”


5. Musical Monstergirl Moments! — from April ’14, if you’ve seen my pastebin, you’be possibly read this. Here it is again anyways. 

Do you like music? Do you like MGs? Well boy do I have the Greentexts for you!

Just a moth-chan short greentext you may well have seen before, but since it’s the first of the series, here it is again.

>You’re at a Slayer concert, because fuck yeah, Slayer!
>Except you’re a manlet and you’re about to die in the mosh.
>Somehow you find a spot in the mosh that just envelopes you in a feeling of comfort and security, even whilst the crowd’s screaming along to Rain In Blood.
>Is this death? Am I dying?
>Is this the real life?
>Is this just a hallucination?
>So, looking upwards, where’s Jacob’s Ladder?
>Can’t see anything for shit. There’s something blocking my vie-
>Tits in a straining, ratty old Slayer shirt from 3 tours ago! Jesus, is this the angel taking you away from your crush induced death?
>Nah. Unless she’s really sad that you’re dead it’s probably not an angel, even if she’s pretty. Seriously, tear drops keep falling on my head.
>Turn around and try to face this mysterious crying metalhead.
>Some fuckwit stage dives and the crowd moves to collect and parcel him to the back of the crowd. Unfortunately(?) that just means you end up face first in this girl’s cleavage.
>She’s totally shaking right now. Fuck. You must look like a pervert, it shouldn’t be that obvious.
>Shoving her away, hands on her shoulders, trying to get a look at her, reveals a swirly eyed mess of a moth-girl, drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf in a breeze.
>Man. You thought you were going to die from concentrated metalhead sweat poisoning just a minute ago and now you’re feeling sorry for this… really cute moth-girl.
>You mouth your concern for her, no point in trying to yell over Slayer.
>After extracting yourself from her cleavage for the third time she points to her battered wings, and a fresh wave of tears flow down her face.
>You kneel down in front of her, and she just gives you a questioning look.
>Then the crowd slams you face first into her daisy duke cut offs. Life’s not so bad, fuck yeah, Slayer!
>It takes her a second to figure out what your charades mean.
>The back of your head’s dunked into her crotch a few times before she relents in a mess of nervousness and swings her legs over your shoulders.
>Thighs. Oh God, thank you.
>Just in time too, if you had another metalhead’s ass jammed in your face you would’ve just given up on the moth-girl.
>With a moth-girl clutching your head for dear life you manage to stand up. Immediately she get’s doused by the security for being on someone’s shoulders.
>Fuck Security, we can dance if we want to!
>Seeing how close she was to passing out it was probably for the best she got some cold water thrown on her.
>Plus now you could totally see her nipples and the contours of her breasts through the soaked shirt.
>You take it back, the security guys are great.
>So there you stand, with a moth-girl on your shoulders amidst a Slayer concert.
>At this juncture you realise you, yourself, were just about to pass out.
>As the moth-girl above you starts to get more and more into the music and the showmanship, you just stand there, kinda fuzzed out from reality; your entire world consisting of standing up, cute thighs, insectoid legs, a pair of wings thankfully fanning you and a set of big breasts. Above said breasts, you know there’s a face with an expression that can only be described as “I’m having so much fun, but I’m torn because now everyone can see me sperging out to Slayer, d-doushio?”
>Eventually the show ends.
>People start bumrushing the merch stand.
>The girl above you has to poke you a few times to get you to return to earth.
>So you let her down, kinda expecting her to thank you in an incredibly embarrassed way and scuttle off.
>Instead she stammered out an apology for being heavy and then stammered out a plee for an escort to the merch table.
>So there you stood in line, bemusedly enjoying the moth-girl attached to your arm, her breasts pressed against it, jiggling with her light shaking.
>Jesus Christ, how much over priced bullshit can one moth-girl buy?
>Finally outside in the cool air you take the opportunity to almost keel over. Trying to make that fact less obvious, you just make it look like you’re a cool dude, doing cool dude thing by leaning against a wall like a cool dude.
>The giant, hairy, metalhead dudes just laugh. Fuck you, I thought we were Slayer buddies.
>They suddenly stop laughing and nod their heads in my general direction.
>Really? She’s back?
>Yeah. She’s back.
>If this girl was a waitress, homecooked style pasta would be all over the joint. How can one moth-girl be so bad at keeping her shit together?
>Thankfully she can’t hear your thoughts.
>Stammering, shaking and shivering in her drenched clothes, she closes the distance with baby steps, doing everything she could to avoid eye contact.
>Finally, she reached you, and you couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at her.
>She pouts, and quickly pushes your eyebrow down in a surprising invasion of space; now whilst you’re more shocked than bemused, the moth-girl grasps your arm, shoves something in your hand, and balancing on a single leg, the other kicked high, she kisses you on the cheek, blushes furiously in a swirly eyed mess, (yet again,) and scurries off.
>The metalheads had watched the entire display. Bully for them. Shrugging your shoulders at them, they simply respond with a thumbs up and go on their way laughing.
>You look down, inspecting your violated hand.
>One of the T-Shirts you were looking at but refused to buy at that price?
>Somehow she had managed to get your size, had she simply guessed or had she sneakily looked inside your collar whilst she was “riding” you?
>Also scrunched into your hand was a hurriedly scrawled note…
>”Thanks for looking after me, I think you’re really nice, would you like to come listen to my music collection? Do you like Queen too?”
>Her phone number was on there too.
>Along with about 50 scrawled and crossed out attempts at the few sentences she had managed. Of what you could make out from the destroyed false starts was that the end result was probably the least awkward one of them all.
>Guess I’ll call her sometime, couldn’t hurt.

WolfGirl & the Pharoahs.

>You’ve gone to a local battle of the bands, and it’s the last act: a punk-looking wolfgirl, she’s at least 6ft and a bit scary, nice tits though. Looks like she has some Pharoah girls backing her up. A bit anachronistic but y’know, whatever you can roll with it.
>You’re happily getting along to the music, but you feel like you’re being watched. Probably nothing, but you swap from the hard liquor to beer and find a new spot in the middle of the crush.
>By the time you’re kind of centrally located the band’s hit their final song, it’s a cover. Once again you feel a pair of eyes slide around the audience until you feel them fall on you and stick like glue.
>The wolfgirl’s eyes light up and a wolfish grin cracks across her face. Uh oh.
“My name is Casanova,
I’m basically a girl!
I have the head of a wolf,
The appetite of an entire land,

This song is going out to the guys,
You’re all looking fucking fine,
Boy, spread those shaking legs,
Because I’m feeling fucking hungry tonight!”
>You attempt to rush out of the mosh, which just isn’t happening, the crowd digs it too much, all the while you can still feel the wolf’s eye in the back of your head.
>You look back for long enough to see the girl paw at a breast and hide her crotch with her fluffy tail.
>By the time you manage to get out of the crush, barely missing a guy with a moth-girl on his shoulders, the song’s finished and the band’s packing up. Fuck.
>You slam out of the bar and try and find the best mode of escape: you’ve got a long road with no cover and an almost 3k run to the nearest train station. Or an alley way that’ll dump you a measly 500 metres away from a different station. Fucked if you do, fucked if you don’t, but you aren’t going to out run a wolf girl, so alley?
>You get about half way down before a damn door slams open infront of you and 3 pharoahs stroll out, struggling under the awkward collection of instruments they’re carrying.
>You pivot on a heel and almost face plant into a pair of tits basically spilling out of a bra a size too small.
>Looking up you see a wolfish grin and eyes that couldn’t be anyless merciful if they tried.
>With a laugh that ends in a howl and a step forward, matched with one of your own away from her, she begins:
“What’s that I see walkin’ in these woods?
Why, it’s Little Red Riding Hood.
Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,
You sure are lookin’ good,
You’re everything a big, bad wolf could want…”
>You keep stepping back, and she keeps advancing on you.
>The end result’s clear to you both, but you still have some pride.
>The Pharoahs have noticed what’s up, laugh and continue on their way back to their beat up old van.
>She swipes for you and you barely dodge it, so she starts up again:
“Little Red Riding Hood,
I don’t think little big boys should,
Go walkin’ in these spooky ol’ woods alone.
What big eyes you have,
The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad.
So just to see that you don’t get chased,
I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.
What full lips you have,
They’re sure to lure someone bad.
So until you get to Grandma’s place,
I think you ought to walk with me and be safe.”
>She’s finished her song and you’ve finished your attempts at escaping. You may’ve reached the end of the alley, but you’re not going any further.
>The open van doors are about as welcoming as the grave… Is that a waterbed in the van’s bed? Really?
>With a final howl, a tearing of both your clothes and an acceleration of 0 to hwoever many Gs you end up finding out that yes. It was a waterbed, and it must’ve been reinforced because it only /JUST/ survived a wolf girl slamming down on it over your hips.
>One of the Pharoahs closes the door behind you, and as you feel a paw reach for your crotch the van starts up, as does your new life as a wolf-girl’s personal roadie. Not to mention the hours of rape.

Such is life travelling across MonsterGirl Country


6. Grue Girl Character Description — You’ll know about this description from June ’14 if you’ve read my Grue story. This bio was the seed for that, and amusing enough on its own I think. 

Grue girl!

This type of Monstergirl can be best described as an enigma, wrapped in shadows, that’s prone to violent rape. To describe a Grue-girl’s appearance is to only be able to talk in approximations; considered to be rare specimens, eyewitness accounts are often sketchy and unsatisfactory. Common descriptions reveal a slim, female figure, that seems to be constituted of smoke-like shadows; when seen, (almost always a single glance from the corner of one’s eye as she stalks her prey) they are described as manifesting themselves through and /of/ darkness, apparently using it not only as a medium for movement, but of disguise.

Physically individuals of course deviate from the norm, however several features are often repeated, first and foremost: Grue-girls posses truly gruesome jaws, filled with blood curdling teeth, the effect is only heightened by the fact that these fangs are often the only part of her that will catch light, yet her eyes are also known to catch the light in some cases, much like a cat’s; this combines to create the truly unsettling vision of a disembodied set of jaws and eyes pouncing upon an unwary traveller. Said travellers, soon well acquainted with the Grue’s body describe them as slim, but strong, with often small, but quite perky breasts, and their rear assets are often the object of much praise. Less praiseworthy to the prey, but very noticeable indeed are the Grue-girl’s rather gruesome paws, each large, misshapen hand crowned with a collection of razor sharp, jagged claws. Beyond this description imagination and sensationalism reigns; some have described fanciful cloaks made of shadow, others report tails, some even suppose Grue-girls have wings: such presumptions only serve to highlight the dearth of knowledge available to the curious mind.

However, unlike their appearance, much is known of the Grue-girl’s temperament, as it is often the only way most experience a Grue’s rather unique “charms”. Described as shy, but possessing a vicious, cunning, predatory instinct; a Grue-girl will stalk a man, until (flitting through the darkness available) she nears her target, closing in on him unawares till she is well within range. Having caught her prize a Grue-girl will then viciously have her way with him, almost if she ate him body and soul, the man is so exhausted. Preferring oral stimulation when on the attack the Grue-girl will pounce in to the darkness if the man’s crotch, destroying his clothes, and readying him for mounting if she so wishes. With such a technique any man whom wears clothes can be at her mercy.

The caveat however can be strongly within the quarry’s corner! For if the man is sharp and manages to spot the predator, she freezes in place and simply can not function, such is her surprise at being seen. Having been “caught” herself, the Grue-girl becomes deeply enamoured with the quick witted man. She’ll stalk the man to his home and take up residence, at the beginning flirting and flitting in and out the corner of the man’s eye, pouncing on him from the darkness in his own home until it becomes that any dark room portends rape for the poor soul.

As with many Monstergirls, spending time with her chosen prey allows her presence to grow, until she becomes more and more solid in the home the two now share and it seems that she can no longer content herself to ghost out of dark corners and suck the man dry. Soon the Grue-girl will dim the lights of the home and manifest more often until it’s with perfect clarity amidst the darkness that both parties realise that they’re well and truly trapped with one another in the gloom of their home.

Some would say, rather unfairly, that such a girl is a sadist and a predator, irredeemable in modern society, however many find that when a Grue-girl takes up residence in their home, one can easily turn the tables on the fearsome girl. True to her nature as a creature of the dark she’s still painfully shy, if a man can catch her before she can pounce on him, or if he can force eye contact and deeply stare her in the eye the Grue-girl’ll stop stock still. If he’s quick and can grab her before she can disappear back into the comforting, safe dark, she’ll easily submit to her quarry, suffering the change of relationship dynamics with a girlish, loving but lascivious smile.

The more often the man accomplishes this task, the quicker the Grue-girl will integrate herself into the mans life and household until finally their love life becomes a cute cat and mouse of caught and catcher, of searcher and fugitive, often switching between submissive and dominant with practiced reflexes and attuned attention. Once a Grue-girl has installed herself into your home, you’re already caught; with all her heart she will pounce upon you, and raping you again and again with a gloating look: a predators right to her prey. However if you catch her, the Grue-girl becomes once again the shy girl hidden deep within her predatory instincts, and will submit her body and soul for ravaging; until both become entwined heart and soul, until both Grue and man become experts in hunting and hiding, until both love each other madly and deeply in their dark haunt forever more.


7. SlapStickStrike’s Sandworm Setting — I translated the Sandworm dōjin back in ’14, but released it without the setting information, and the translation wasn’t even credited to me! Not bitter about it. Just saying. Anyways I eventually got around to translating the setting info too: if you liked the sandworm dojin, this stuff may interest you.

Commentary on the setting

Worm-type mamono musume

Called the Sandworm, AKA the Sand-Creature*, they live in dry areas, mainly deserts.
It’s the largest worm-type monster, their size could even be comparable to that of a dragon.
Their entire body is covered in an incredibly strong carapace, which also functions in such a way that the Sandworm can “swim” through earth and sand, through the use of peristalsis.

During the old Demon Lord’s reign Sandworms were carnivorous and humans were a staple of their diet; but after the new Demon Lord took power they became omnivorous. Now humans are seen as potential partners rather than potentially edible.
For the worm species, their intelligence isn’t high overall; this characteristic hasn’t changed even after the ascent of the new Demon Lord, it’s thought that it’s just a peculiarity of the race of worms.
For this reason Sandworms are incredibly straightforward in their thinking: if they see a man they fancy as a potential partner, they’ll attack mercilessly.

Even though the Sandworms use their large outer bodies to hunt down humans, most prey are received by the woman shaped inner-body and are met with a welcome full of lust. Inside the main body resides the inner female-shaped body: this human-shaped organ’s entire surface has the texture of a tongue. If her captured prey is worthy as a potential partner, the Sandworm will use her inner body to cover the man in her saliva; by doing so she marks the man with her own pheromones, which then act as a precaution against other mamono poaching her new suitor. Thus, the Sandworm marks the human as her new partner. This act, in and of itself, has very strong feelings attached to it by the Sandworms and also acts to deepen the intimacy between her and her partner at the same time; this new intimacy will often develop in to the couple’s first mating in most cases.

Sandworms are an oviparous family of mamono, the eggs being created within the the outer body of the Sandworm. After hatching, the young Sandworms grow by repeatedly moulting. Moulting is generally repeated about 30 times, through this process the Sandworm’s outer hide becomes tough and strong. When the young Sandworm, through repeated moulting, has grown too large to comfortably ride within her mother, the young Sandworm will leave her mother’s embrace and exit into the wider world. The newly independent Sandworm is now considered an adult. To become truly independent the now adult Sandworm leaves her mother (indeed it would be physically impossible for the daughter to again fit into her mother’s outer body now) and begins her own journey in search of a husband, never to set eyes on her mother again.
It should be noted, that in some very rare cases the Sandworm’s father will accompany his daughter on her journey.
Normally Sandworms aren’t social mamono and rarely act in groups, however if multiple Sandworms were to act in concert, they could be willing to share a single mate.

*Translator’s note: Sandworm throughout the dōjin is rendered as “Sandouōmu” in katakana, in this instance the author takes the opportunity to render it in kanji which more or less transliterates to “sand-insect”. So it’s a bit awkward in other words. If you want to have the Japanese transliterated to romanji it’s rendered as “Sunamushi”, pretend that’s what I chose to use if you prefer it.


8. Bully the Ignis Greentext —From October ’14, a test/joke greentext to try out Ignis characters, since I was considering a story about one back then. I wrote a banter filled greentext instead. 

Walking down the street, singing doo wa diddy, diddy dum, diddy doo.
>Suddenly a bush by the footpath bursts in to flame, but doesn’t seem to be consumed by the fire.
“Hey, you there! Heed my words and recognise your lord and master!”
>2000 years of Christian history has prepared me for this moment.
>I walk away as quickly as possible.
“H-hey wait! What are you doing? I command you to wait!”
>A small shrubbery in front of me ignites, the voice is a bit higher pitched now.
“Looks like I can’t get away from you, so I’ll play ball. What ya want? A second, slightly smaller shrubbery to set alight?”
“Heh heh! Of course you profess your willingness to serve me! Tis only natural!”
“…What are you? Ghost of a serial arsonist with a vendetta against topiarists?”
“Does such a stupid ghost exist?! Wait, that’s no-I’m a fire goddess, a spirit of all that consumes, destroys and gives birth anew!”
>At this point an impressive gout of fire erupts from the shrubbery and a rather “hot” girl emerges from the flame. Well, it would be impressive if it wasn’t all to scale with the shrub.
“I go by many names, have been worshipped under many guises, but you can call me… IGNIS!”
“Iggy, gotchya.”
“Iggy, wha-what kind of stupid nickname is that?!”
“Iggy Pop.”
“Do you have 2 elder sisters?”
“Cause then we could have Iggy Snap, Iggy Crackle and Iggy Pop.”
>As I ticked off the names on my fingers her face turned steadily more blue. Is that because she was blushing and heating up? Or de-oxygenating herself pouting? Truly a mystery.
“What am I?! A goddess or breakfast cereal?! Wait, no, is Iggy my first or last name?! There’s too many things wrong here!”
“Chill out Iggy-chan”
“That doesn’t make it any more clear!”
“You don’t need to be so hot headed about this.”
“You’re trying to make me cry, aren’t you?!”
“Is turning on the water works such a good idea for you?”
“FINE! WHATEVER! I’ll just talk to the next person!”

It did it again! Snooooowdrake! Fix it! And make chapter hyperlinks for me~


9. Oshioki Ran Script — Someone asked me to translate this thinking he was just going to get cute fluff and snek noodle. He did not get those things. We all got deep, existential horror, curtesy of the abyss vagoo. Enjoy this.  

(The dōjin itself, https://nhentai.net/g/164737/ AKA: (C89) [YAMADA AIR BASE (ざわ, むむむ, ゆからんのすけ)] おしおきらんみあ (東方Project))

Oshioki Ran

Page 1 (starts on Page 4)


RAN: “Ah”
“Chen, welcome home.”


CHEN: “…I’m back.”

RAN: “How did your schooling* go today?”

C: “Fine…”

R: “…”

“What’s happened Chen,
you’re being a bit sullen aren’t you?”

“Why not show me your usual adorable self, please…!”

C: “Ah-!”

“It’s not…
“It’s not what you think…”

*Literally “Terakoya”, a system of private institutions that provided education to the middle and lower classes. Imagine temples functioning as the precursor to the Meiji’s public education reform.


R: “Che… Chen…?
“That wound…
“How did… That…”



“Who did it…”


[Nothing but a hasty conclusion.]


C: “Those kids will make me answer them again…”

“About that rat odour,
“It’s the next seat over,
What can I do about it..”

(WOT? Is this some kind of an injoke or has this doujin broken my ability to understand Japanese?)
(Apparently it is an injoke.)
(Apparently I don’t care.)


Ran: “I track the scent, and what do I find…”

MC: “Eh.”
Who are you!?”

R: “Oi
You there, boy.
H O N E S T L Y answer me now…”

[MC squeaks like a little bitch.]

R: “Bastard! What did /you/ do to my Chen today…?”

MC: “I have no idea—”

R: “Playing dumb are we?
“You’re pretty courageous aren’t you, bastard…!”
(Or “you’ve got a pretty big pair on you, don’t you bastard…!”)

“Of course he possesses magical power,*
But he is young isn’t he,
Nothing more than a brat…”

*maybe more in the sense that “this is definitely where my magic pointed me to.” Either way.



MC: “No, no way!
I did no such thing…”

R: “LIAR!!”

MC: “Eh”

R: “You’ve definitely got Chen’s scent on you…”

“It’s absolutely vital to punish liars, don’t you agree?”


MC “Eh…”
“What are…”


R: “O’ lying mouse pup! If I were to discipline you,
For sure,
You’d soon possess a more suitable carriage, correct?”

MC: “Mi…
“Miss, what are you saying…”

Ran harrumphs



R: “Look here,
Don’t try and run.”

“Whilst it’s good to be energetic…”
So you don’t try and run off on me again–
It might be necessary to expend some of a bit of that energy, huh?”

“Let’s see…”

“Fufu… It’s cowering…
Like a snake being stared down by a toad…
Or maybe I should’ve said “mouse pup?””

MC: “Wha-, what are you talking about…”



R: “Some snakes you know, they immediately constrict their prey, so tight that they can crush bone,
And shred their prey’s veins and arteries,
They don’t all just instantly bite to subdue their prey.”

“And when their prey eventually stops moving, stops breathing,
Slowly, slowly, they’ll keep constricting,
And enjoy easily extinguishing their prey.”

“Are you struggling?
We’ve still go a ways to go,
Will you be able to persevere?”


R: “It may be,
a little different to a hand, but lets do this too.”

“Look, look,
Even though you’re being constricted your loins are responding; if that’s the case I’ll have to toy with you even more.”

“It’s a little exasperating having to use these on the likes of you… But I’ll allow it”

“What’s this slovenly face for,
Have you hit your limit?”

[RAN TEASES BY SAYING “come on, come on, come ooon <3]

MC: “Ya—


R: “Cum, brat <3”

This taste…
It’s this brat’s first time isn’t it…
Well this is a stroke of luck, it’s good fortune indeed…>

<I’ve already come this far…
And if it’s only a little…
I can take and eat just a little right…>

Still energetic aren’t you?”

*(substitute “Oh my…” if you hate fun)


R: “That being so…”

“Next’ll be here…
It’s going to wring you dry <3″

“So brat, are you excited for this?
Even with your half-hearted courage,
You might end up coming like crazy until you die you know… <3″

MC: “It- it’s hot!?”



“Oi oi, all I’ve done is give you a little rub,
And that’s enough to make you cry out?
If you were a man, wouldn’t you show me a bit more backbone?”

MC: “a… U…
It feels GOOD…”

R: “….hmph.”


MC “yowch!?”

“E… A… Why…”

R: “what’s thi—s? It looks like you’re enjoying this, even though you were told this was your punishment; it looks like you’ve forgotten that, huh?”

“Play time’s over.
Whilst I’ve still got some capacity left,
We’ll return to the topic at hand…”

“—This has all been the opening act,
Just so I can properly drum some manners into you, I’ve created just the right situation…”

“From here on out you’ll have a proper taste,*
Of my stomach.
Whilst you’re regretting being born at all,** reflect on your actions!”

*can be read as “eaten” as well.
**I know I am

Pg 16

R: “Yes yes,
That’s the right expression”

MC: “no way”

R: “The last thing you’ll ever see is your feet being eaten first, that’s the best way to do it, don’t you think…?”

“Or, the other idea I had, was for you to go head first, what about that?”

“Hmm, that’s right…
In order to make you properly reflect on what you did,
Let’s go with legs first, yeah… <3″


R: “now…”

MC: “No–”
“No way!”
“Stay away!”

R: “Welcome on in now.”


R: “ARA?”

“Even with all this happening, you still get hard?”

“With all that has happened up this point, do you still fail to comprehend?
Now really, you’re a guy totally incapable of remorse, aren’t you?”

MC: “…I’m …sorry…
I was… Wrong…”

“Please forgive me…
I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry…” x3


R: “It’s much too late to apologise now,
I’m not going to give you any forgiveness.”

“Your clothes, your flesh, your bones, your powers, your remorseless, shameful thing too,”

“I’ll devour it all,
And digest it at all to a mush for you… <3″

MC: “uwaa. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”


Ran: “look, look,
You’ve already been slurped up to your knees <3
If you hate it so, why don’t you try struggling like a boy should?”

You’ve been sucked in to your hands?
What will you do?
Have you already given up?
What a hopeless guy… <3″

“How is it? Is it hot and steamy? Slimy and tight? Can you feel the rippling around your feet?

“That’s where you’re going to be sent you know. <3”


R: “Well then… Are you ready to say your farewells to the outside world I wonder?
Have you surrendered yourself to my stomach I wonder?”

“You should take that last breath of fresh air now <3”

MC: “Please shtop…
“Forgib me…”

R: “Have a nice tri—p.”


R: “Is it nice and cosy inside me?
Any complaints about your accommodation in there…?”
“Looks like there’s no complaints, right <3”

“After all, even in a situation like this, you’ve still got an erection… <3”

“That being so, surely you wish to ejaculate?
“Even if it’s impossible for you, with the effort of your short life, violently, roughly, try and do it… <3”

“Wouldn’t that be a little stimulating? <3”


R: “How long can you hold out I wonder? See~, my slippery [GASTRIC?!] juices won’t let you rest<3”
“If you don’t want to be digested, you had best ejaculate for me <3”


R: “Co~me on, c’mon, c’mon<3”
“Keep at it— <3
“I’m still tooootally unsatisfied!”

“O—kay, too~ ba~d! <3”

(I point this out coz I missed it. The next page was really confusing until I read back. テヘヘ〜)


R: “Nfu… <3
“You came even after being tormented by my stomach juices and flesh…”

“Really now,
“What a shameful guy you are… <3”

“I guess I’ll have to recognise your earnest nature.”


“Now, *melt* into sleep for me… <3”


Main “Dumbfuck” Character: “Ha!”


“…A dream…”

[But, those sensations were…]


MC: “Ex…”
“Excuse me…”

RAN: “Hmm?
Do you require something of me?”-

R: “What is it…
“Is there something you wish to tell me?
“Is there something you wish to confess to?”

“Which is it, I won’t get angry, so why not try and frankly say it?”



Hope you enjoyed some of this old stuff, and provoked some nostalgia for the good old golden days of content creation. It’s a shame I don’t have any Charon-chan stuff really, maybe another author will make an ephemera pile like this so we can see their earlier archived work… get on it people. Maybe some of this stuff is worth spinning out into more stories. Feel free to comment about anything you liked or hated, like I said, dregs of my literary history, but they’re fun to flick through. 



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