Lightnews — Scholar-powered news

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

"Mud Pie Uranus" is an extremely unfortunate star name to get in a Katamari game

January 29, 2026 at 4:53 AM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Being a huge blorbo is no obstacle to staying in shape.

Citation needed.

Tempest will get there eventually.

Original art by BadgerBen.

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #fatfur #hyper #clop

Big fat top-heavy anthro Tempest Shadow (aka Fizzlepop Berrytwist), trying and failing to perform a sit-up, drenched with sweat, clothing tearing, with text bubble saying "Just... One... Dammit...!"

January 28, 2026 at 3:16 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

If I'm able to play Terraria again on this computer, all attempts to be productive might be forever ruined

January 28, 2026 at 12:45 AM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

No breast for the thick-ed

January 27, 2026 at 8:03 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Temby bimblorb just wants to relax and enjoy herself.

Nothing bad will happen if you stare at her too long.

Original art by @spicydrumstix.bsky.social

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper #fatfur #clop

Big fat top-heavy bimbo anthro Tempest Shadow (aka Fizzlepop Berrytwist), standing in a vague mall, wearing ill-fitting clothes and holding up a cellphone with a text conversation implied to be with Pinkie Pie.

January 27, 2026 at 4:06 PM

Reposted by Non Uberis

Rae

@41dn.bsky.social

docs.google.com/forms/d/1_Sn...

Trying to afford basic food and amenities before I run out. Please help if you can.

January 26, 2026 at 8:50 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Are you interested in:

Feeling handsy?

Warrior greeting?

Cranial possession?

And something something big things?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“Are these…hands?” Luna asks, uncertain how concerned she should be with this discovery as she holds the jar up for inspection.

“Yup!” Euphoria affirms as they come bounding up beside her.

The glass container is packed full with a cluster of broad, flat shapes, with five extremities that project from the central body. They wriggle and twitch in a manner disturbingly evocative of maggots. They are pale white, but their texture is difficult to discern through the glass; they give an impression more like gloves, blank and featureless.

And while they look at the jar, the hands start to tremble in Luna’s hands. Cracks form in the glass.

“Uh oh, they’re reacting to our curiosity,” Euphoria remarks with a chuckle that doesn’t suggest much concern at all.

A low hum in her throat, Luna sets the jar down and manifests a shimmering blue barrier around it like a snowglobe. “That should be enough to—”

The container explodes in a shower of glass fragments, and for an instant the hands are visible, leaping out. Then they all disappear without a trace, leaving only the shards and the orphaned lid rattling on the floor.

“Ah, forgive me,” Shakra declares in a booming voice, bowing her head, “I mistook you at first for a child, but I see now that you have the mark of a true warrior.”

Hornet unconsciously grasps the hilt of her needle and nods back. “You are most perceptive, tall one. I have lived a long life and had much time to hone my skills in combat.”

With a graceful, fluid motion, Shakra bends her knees and lowers herself into a squat, closer to Hornet’s eye level. “And your form is quite magnificent,” she muses as she regards the shorter bug. “Were you a member of my tribe, I imagine that you would have a great many suitors pining for you.”

Hornet crosses her arms under her chest, emphasizing the shape of the pert globes hidden beneath her crimson cloak. “I have indeed had my fair share of admirers in the past,” she remarks with stark ambivalence, “and I have occasionally dabbled in unions, but there have been none who could back up their claims that their shell could withstand my strength.”

Shakra barks out a sardonic laugh and replies, “Yes, that is the way of the warrior, is it not? I have broken many a would-be lover myself.” She pats her palms on her thighs, producing meaty slaps on the firm flesh, and the metal rings around her wrists jangle noisily.

WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOUR PATHETIC BODY COULD SERVE AS A VESSEL FOR OUR MAGNIFICENCE?

The voice booms in Alex’s skull, much like the pressure which makes it feel like his head is on the verge of bursting. He clutches his temples and the skin pulses and surges beneath his fingertips. “Because I wished to taste your power,” he would say if he had the motor capacity to do so, his jaw hanging slack, his breath trickling out in a crackly death rattle.

NO MATTER, WE SHALL SIMPLY MAKE DO.

As he staggers in place—barely staying within the glowing lines of the circle—Alex’s eyes bug out of their sockets, suddenly too large for their confines, eager to spill out of his face. This only diminishes as the rest of his skull expands to make room, swelling outward despite his hands’ efforts to push back. His ears are full of cracks and pops before suddenly going deaf for a few seconds as the fleshy lobes flatten and then reemerge as pointed cups on the sides of his scalp. His jaw shatters and extrudes from his face, fusing into a muzzle, lips curling back, a guttural white emanating from within him as his teeth extend into sharpened points. He feels coarse fur rising up beneath his palms where they press on the underside of his cheeks—the farthest he can reach at this point—and his hair cascades over the sides of his face in long, braided tassels.

“What was that saying about big things again?” Euphoria murmurs with a thin smirk as they press their hooves on either side of the meaty shaft before them.

“A-ah…” Beryl stutters through the spasms of arousal which wrack his body. He grips the base of his cock in his hands, yet his attempts to stroke the spongy flesh feel insignificant compared to the unicorn’s cloven hooves. He mumbles, “That they’re…big?”

Euphoria chuckles. “Close enough.” They reach out with their legs and instead wrap around the Umbreon’s waist. They pull him close, the throbbing shaft sandwiched in between them, resting on the unicorn’s bosom and clenched between their thighs. The rounded tip of the shaft, dribbling viscous pre, bobs mere inches from their face, so they lean in and kiss it. Beryl gasps in ecstasy as a surge of vitality rushes through him and the fleshy girth grows yet further engorged, skin tightening, blood pumping. His cock had already been immense, thicker than his torso and rising higher than his face, and in seconds it becomes akin to a tree trunk grafted to his loins. His testicles swell into loudly churning balloons, each the size of a weather balloon, which lift him off the mattress.

January 26, 2026 at 1:07 AM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

After a few days of protracted setup I think I finally have everything good to go on my new laptop

January 24, 2026 at 5:04 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Are there any tips for using SAI2 with a high resolution screen that aren't just lowering the resolution?

January 23, 2026 at 12:34 AM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Your duck appears to have encountered an error.

Please contact technical support for assistance.

Weird asymmetrical growth with TRAE-C.

Original art by @pinkpalooka.hyper.wang

#nonuberart #furry #nsfw #hyper

An anthro Porygon-Z experiencing glitches that cause their body to expand in an irregular and asymmetrical manner, standing in a Windows XP inspired background.

January 22, 2026 at 3:03 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Are you interested in:

Hyper dressing?

Unrealistic proportions?

Balloon belly?

And photo booth?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

The good news is that the new set of coveralls that Jody fishes out of his locker looks like it will fit him. Not that it’s exactly recognizable as clothing. The blue suit is more than just loose; multiple baggy flaps hang from it, giving the impression of some malformed sailcloth.

The bad news is that he still has to somehow manage to put the garment on, and he can barely even see it. When he lets go of his lips, the swollen mounds at the end of his muzzle bob back up, a glossy wall obliterating his field of view.

A disgruntled sigh escapes him, tinged with a stabbing quaver of arousal.

The Lopunny holds the coveralls out to the side of himself, unzipped so as to be as wide as possible. He has to reach underneath his jutting bosom with one arm in order to hold it with both hands. The shelf of breast meat would still prevent him from seeing what he’s doing even if he didn’t have huge bimbo lips at the moment. It takes him three tries to get his foot into the right pant leg, tugging up on the coveralls so that it nestles gingerly around his thick calf and thicker thigh, compressing the fluffy tufts around his ankle.

“You can just set it down right there, darling,” Rarity instructs, “and do be gentle about it.”

Applejack grunts as she sets the enormous crate on the fitting room floor with as quiet of a thud as she can manage. The box is nearly as large as the farmpony herself, and that’s a lot of pony, sweaty bulk barely contained within the loose and airy clothes she wears. “Y’know, this could’ve been a whole lot easier if you’d just used your magic, Rares,” she says gruffly, chest heaving up and down as she catches her breath.

“Oh, but then I couldn’t have seen you at work, could I?” she replies with a low, vibrating purr, batting her eyelashes.

The mare snorts and shakes her head, but still she smirks wryly.

“Besides, I need to conserve my strength for the work that lies ahead.” Rarity levitates over a crowbar—an unusually blunt tool for the elegant boutique, but one that still has its uses—and jams it into the side of the box, beginning the effort of prying it open. It would be exceedingly difficult for her to do this by hand as she can’t even reach far enough. The unicorn’s immensity is even greater than Applejack’s, the breadth of her body in all directions extending beyond the span of her swollen, flab-laden arms. “I can’t believe I was able to get such a good deal on these! I’ll finally be able to put all my new designs on display!”

“A good deal on what?” Applejack asks, hands settling in place on her broad hips.

“Ponnequins, of course,” Rarity replies, chortling, the folds of her chin and neck jiggling, “I got a full dozen of them at a premium price! I’ll have enough for the boutique here and in Canterlot!”

Lying in bed, Eddy idly rubs his belly, humming contentedly to himself. It’s an easy enough way to pass the time whenever he’s drowsy, waiting for slumber to overtake him. The scaly flesh, a hill cresting up over him with its tremendous weight piling down, compresses beneath his touch, warmth seeping into his fingers. The touch is soothing and electrifying, a reminder of his enormity; he cannot possibly cover the entirety of its sprawling surface, the creamy mountain extending far past the reach of his hands. Even bending his legs so that his thighs cradle the globe’s underside (with his stiffening member buried betwixt the fat), jostling it about, there’s still many square feet that he can’t touch without assistance.

For a while, he’s so lost in his ministrations that he doesn’t notice the additional points of contact which stroke along his midsection—the hands which are not his own.

When the dragon opens his bleary eyes and looks up at the scaly slope, he sees someone perched upon the peak of Mount Eddy Belly. The unicorn glares back down at him while they press their thick palms deep into the flabby bulky. Their four eyes are filled with hunger.

“WHAT POTENTIAL THERE IS WITHIN THIS VESSEL,” Pneuma exults, breathing out a long and heated sigh. They extend themselves down along the slope, stopping with their hands resting just shy of Eddy’s sagging chest. Their breasts hang heavily between their arms as they contort their back, bending at an angle so they can maintain eye contact.

Eddy doesn’t particularly want to maintain eye contact, but he’s been lulled into too much of a stupor to resist, as if trapped in a dream by sleep paralysis.

A giddy electric tingle courses through Euphoria as they pull aside the curtain and step into the photo booth (the interior dilates around them so as to accommodate their stature). “Have I ever used one of these before?” they wonder aloud as they look over the interface on the panel in front of them. They tap on a green button and a light flicks on next to a camera lens, then the screen in the center turns on. A buxom, dark-furred unicorn gazes back at them, a radiant halo visible behind their head, and they chuckle to themselves as they brush their golden mane, their tail flicking idly. “Ooh, who is that beautiful creature?”

They could have stayed that way for a while, ogling themselves and fussing over their hair and makeup, but it occurs to Euphoria that something seems amiss about this. When they consider taking a picture, they have the distinct thought that, even though any photo of their likeness would be perfect, there’s something missing. “Hmm…” They stroke their chin and furrow their brow and consider smoking a pipe for maximum sagacity before the answer emerges in their mind. “Ah, this is typically supposed to be an activity for couples, is it not?"

The reflection in the camera screen nods back at them in affirmation.

January 21, 2026 at 6:12 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

been forgoring about alt text oops

January 21, 2026 at 4:48 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

It's possible to have TOO MUCH memory.

Funny inflation glitch with TRAE-C.

Art by @energyunit.bsky.social

#nonubercomms #furry #nsfw #inflation

January 21, 2026 at 4:44 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Digital duck is here to ASSIST you.

TRAE-C is highly rated despite the proliferation of bugs in their code.

Art by @rancidartstudio.bsky.social

#nonubercomms #furry

January 20, 2026 at 9:28 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

New story uploaded.

In which Claire tries to get a leg up on her sister.

It doesn't go quite the way she expected.

www.furaffinity.net/view/63711335/

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw #hyper #bimbo #inflation

January 19, 2026 at 3:13 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Are you interested in:

Bimbo swap?

Horn hunting?

Genie collection?

And holiday wishes?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

“Alright, Fox,” Slippy says over the transponder on his wrist, “Krystal and I have triangulated his position to be approximately within a block of where you are right now.”

“You can’t get any more specific than that?” The sound of Fox’s own voice is alien to him, more gravelly than he’s accustomed to, but that’s good because it means that the testosterone supplements are working.

Krystal interjects, “If I probed any deeper into his consciousness then he might become alerted to my presence, and who knows how he’d react then.”

Fox grumbles, growling under his breath. “Okay, fine, I’ll call again if anything comes up, Fox over and out.”

“How come you gotta go to all this effort, Fox?” Falco asks dryly. “Can’t you just send him a postcard with a photo? It’s already enough that you’ve done all this extra work on yourself.”

The vulpine glances back over his shoulder—which bulges up into his field of view just a little more—at the wall of tit wobbling along the sidewalk behind him. “It’s all about sending a message, Falco,” he asserts. His muscles tense, tingling beneath the skin, and he slaps a fist into the opposite open palm. Easier said than done on account of the breadth of his torso and the thickness of his arms. This must be how Falco feels whenever he tries to cross his arms over his chest.

With a final grinding snap, the saw cleaves through the base of the horn, and the golden spire comes free, dripping luminous ichor from the severed stump.

“Let me see it!” hisses Viyion, red hands reaching into view.

Chittering aggressively, Tremil whirls on him, brandishing the saw. “Do not be so presumptuous as to believe that you can rise above your place!” he growls, mandibles extending in a threatening display that shows the array of pieces in his maw. “You were brought along for the hunt and nothing more! The beast must be cut and carved to acquire all the most valuable pieces before they spoil!”

Viyion clicks back, his antennae folding down. He huddles, visibly intimidated, but still he grips his obsidian-tipped spear, a weapon he knows how to wield with deadly efficiency. “If it is so pertinent that you carry out the deed quickly, then surely it would be better if you had assistance,” he grumbles.

The most prized possessions in Emperor Shining Armor’s private quarters are not valued merely for their material worth. His collection occupies one wall of the gilded chamber, a menagerie of objects which are arranged upon pedestals. The palace staff are under strict orders not to touch them, leaving him the duty of cleaning this particular space. Any item being even slightly out of place will lead him to the conclusion that an intruder has entered his chambers.

The mighty stallion will often stand here, pondering the whole assortment and deciding which one suits his fancy the most. Almost always, though, as he does today, the first one which he approaches is a small bottle shaped like a heart, cloudy vapor swirling inside the pink glass. With the utmost of care, he picks up the vessel with his sturdy hands and plucks out the stopper embedded in the heart’s center cleft.

The vaporous mist contained within the bottle billows out, a velvety pink miasma which brushes at Shining’s mostly bare form like delicate fingertips. The plumes of smoke coalesce into a shape which hovers in the air over him, a pastel morass that steadily gains definition, as if filling a new container. Clothing manifests from the ether at the same time that the vapor solidifies into flesh, veils and sashes which provocatively conceal a bountifully curvaceous body. A tricolor mane flows around an immaculately beautiful face, features soft and delicate, lips plump, sapphire eyes sharp and discerning.

“Ah, Your Majesty,” Cadence croons as she gyrates and sways. Her bountiful bosom rolls atop the upper swell of her taut, rounded belly. Her hips swing from side to side, though just past them her legs dissipate into mist, a trail which extends to the bottle in the stallion’s hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

While Old Saint Nick enjoys his much-needed rest and the many little workers of the North Pole celebrate the completion of the holiday, hoofsteps echo through the sprawling halls of the workshop. Vixen the reindeer looks this way and that as he trots along, at the racks of tools, the stout little workstations that haven’t yet been cleaned, the gears and conveyor belts that sit dormant, and the conspicuous Coca-Cola vending machines. He searches aimlessly for he does not know entirely why he decided to abandon the annual reindeer afterparty to wander through here, where the polar animals rarely bother to tread (least of all because the elves get ornery when they see cloven hoofprints on the polished floor). It was merely an urge that propelled him onward, but here in the land of holiday cheer, urges are powerful things.

His meandering takes him to a secluded corner of the workshop where he sees worn pieces of metal, scrap from broken-down machines, and a large open bin from which a faint light emanates. “Could it be?” he wonders as he trots over, and as he sticks his head into the bin he gasps in amazement at the sight of an assortment of glowing motes of light, like incandescent pearls. “Wishes!”

The wishes are what enable the industry of the North Pole to thrive. Toys manufactured by the elves are made not from material components but the raw dreamstuff of wishes, molded into a physical shape. This can be used to create anything and everything, from action figures and bicycles to kitchen appliances and video game consoles (how else do you suppose Santa can afford a Switch 2 in this economy?). Inevitably, however, every year there are trace quantities of wish matter left over from fabrication, the result of some believers who are, for one reason or another, unable to receive their gifts.

January 18, 2026 at 7:57 PM

Reposted by Non Uberis

💙🟠Rei & Yuri Luclaw🟠💙

@reimoon.bsky.social

Hey All I'm opening up another Round of Commissions for January!

Taking 5 Slots
NOT First Come, First Served

If you're interested please fill the following form:
forms.gle/RbbuuLGAUDNj...

I'll be taking applications all week (unless I fill up fast)
Please help a wuff out~

January 16, 2026 at 9:54 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

piczel.tv/watch/NonUbe...

Some Non that you used to know.

Writing, art, and/or gaming.

Probably NSFW.

NonUberis - Piczel.tv

The Uber Channel

piczel.tv

January 14, 2026 at 9:27 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

I went into The Last Starfighter not really knowing what to expect, but I REALLY didn't expect to see a spaceship do Reaper's ult, literally with the exact same name

January 14, 2026 at 3:45 AM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

forgor to copy the tags buh

#nonuberstories #furry #nsfw

Non Uberis @nonuberis.bsky.social · 15d

Are you interested in:

Dragon decompression?

Abstract maze?

Redemption arc?

And farmhouse feeding?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

Eddy chuckles to himself as he finishes writing in the scroll. “Just wait ‘til Fran gets a load of this spell,” he mutters, grinning mischievously, his tail flicking idly at the air. Giddiness fills him like carbonation, and that lift makes it a little easier for him to haul his bulk away from his desk. He can’t wait to—

When he turns about, he is met with the sight of someone

(filling the chamber)

standing in his way. The pale figure stares back at him with four dark eyes, lips fixed in a predatory smile. A strange, segmented horn floats above their head. They are alarmingly tall for a creature that isn’t a dragon, face nearly level with his.

Eddy probably ought to be more alarmed that there’s a stranger in his home, someone who crept to such close proximity without his noticing. In observing their body, however, he is distracted by the discovery of two key details. The first is that the unicorn is completely naked. The second is that their form is sturdy and curvaceous, thick legs supporting a torso with a pliant belly and round, heavy breasts. “O-oh,” he gasps out, his gaze holding on the stranger’s chest. Perhaps he would assert, if questioned on this moment, that he just didn’t want to meet their imposing glare.

Regardless of the reason, this moment of hesitation, catching him off-guard, affords the unicorn an opportunity to close the remaining distance—there is a sense of movement, yet no sound of footsteps. They croon in a low growl as they reach out and place their meaty hands on Eddy’s gut, eliciting another sharp intake of breath from the dragon. They knead the scaly flab in their grasp, even lifting it slightly, unfazed by its sheer weight.

“Ugh, I don’t get this,” Mina grumbles, turning in place as she looks down at the floor around her. The intricate patterns drawn into the polished stone make her head hurt. There is a sense of lines forming neat angles, a network of branching paths, but the geometric shapes layered over top of each other make it difficult to discern what the correct directions are meant to be. “Finding a way through a maze shouldn’t have to come with homework!”

After several minutes on end of doing this, she steps out of the installation and looks across the whole of it spread before her. The maze doesn’t make much more sense to her when she’s standing outside of it. “Maybe…” She takes out her phone and holds it up before her, trying to catch as much of the expanse as she can in the view of the lens. “Maybe if I take some pictures then I can understand it better!”

She taps her thumb on the capture button, the phone makes a soft click, and then she feels a powerful suction that yanks her into the screen with a stomach-churning twist of vertigo.

Mina shrieks as she tumbles head over heels, but a moment later her momentum abruptly comes to a stop, staggered, nearly falling over, but on her feet. “H-h-huh?!” she gasps hoarsely as she looks around herself. She expects to see something distressingly out of the ordinary, but instead she sees the same art installation she was standing in before. At the center of the maze drawn in the floor, she can see where the painted patterns end, but the lights of the hall are dimmer, and immediately beyond lies a curtain of shadow. “What…what the heck happened?” She rubs her head; her brain still hurts. “Must still be delirious,” she mutters.

“I’m back!”

All the changelings in the store applaud for Chrysalis as she strides inside, her head held high, wobbling pendulously with every step.

“You’ve got the look of a changeling who earned a lot of tips tonight,” Ocellus exclaims as she steps up to meet her.

“I sure did,” Chrysalis declares with a wink as she lifts the jar of bits from her pale cleavage, practically overflowing with coins and a few gemstones for good measure. “Everypony in Ponyville knows that I’m the best pizza delivery mare around.”

“And with this night’s shift complete, you’ve officially made more deliveries than the rest of the employees of Bug Bites Pizza combined!” Ocellus announces, and she throws handfuls of confetti into the air.

“Everypony loves getting deliveries from you, Chrysalis!” Elytra chimes in, standing beside her and patting her on the shoulder.

“We wouldn’t be where we are today if it weren’t for you, Chryssi!” Spiracle says from the other side of the counter, his gruff demeanor melted into a wide grin.

“You’re truly have become the pinnacle of what all changelings should aspire to be!” Thorax proclaims, sitting on a throne of polished green resin.

“Aw, shucks, all of you are just too kind!” Chrysalis replies, and she laughs.

She laughs until she cries.

She laughs until she aches.

She laughs until she collapses on the floor.

“Alright, Big Mac,” Sugar Belle announces as she delivers the last of the platters to the table, “your dinner’s all served!”

The stallion looks over the spread and whistles, scratching his forehead. “Golly, Sugar, sure is a lot for just the two of us, ain’t it?” he asks with a wry, nervous chuckle.

One can hardly see the wooden countertop of the table beneath all the plates and bowls set across it. There are heaps of steamed and sauteed vegetables, potatoes both baked and mashed, an overflowing salad, a whole roasted chicken, pasta swimming in sauce, simmering slabs of brisket, and of course a hefty jug of vintage apple cider, among other dishes.

Giggling, Sugar Belle replies, “Oh no, not the two of us; I already ate my fill.” She clings to Big McIntosh’s side; the pink mare is far smaller than him, yet still the way she holds him, lovingly clasping around his shoulders and his girthy midsection, speaks volumes of the authority she exerts over him. “This is all for you, hon, my precious hunk of a husband. You need to eat as much as you can to do all your work on the farm.”

“Ah…well…” Big Mac gulps, his ears folding back as he looks at the table in a whole new context. It’s a daunting idea, but Apples are nothing if not overachievers, and he can hardly say no to his wife. Or to his stomach, which chooses that moment to growl loudly. “I guess…you ain’t wrong,” he mutters sheepishly.

“Perfect!” She tugs on his shoulder, gently urging him to lean down so she can plant a kiss on his cheek. The stallion’s short tail wags over his rump.

January 13, 2026 at 6:25 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Are you interested in:

Dragon decompression?

Abstract maze?

Redemption arc?

And farmhouse feeding?

These topics and more explored in drabbles available through my Patreon.

www.patreon.com/user?u=273837

January 13, 2026 at 6:24 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

I can't believe Zorah Magdaros made it into Kirby Air Riders

January 12, 2026 at 8:43 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

I wonder if the reason I almost never have horny dreams where I get to transform into fetish abominations is because of my internalized shame and self-loathing telling me that I don't deserve that

January 11, 2026 at 4:07 PM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

Me examining a new follower

January 11, 2026 at 5:21 AM

Non Uberis

@nonuberis.bsky.social

being multiple unicorns means you can easily smother someone between betwixt yourselves

try it sometime!

January 10, 2026 at 5:11 AM

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