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25ecd752a73d4c14a12928461f8125ac
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(praise the sun (meme) and etc) directed by gridanon
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Description

PRAISE THE SUN!

(Does Celestia count for the Year of the Fire Horse?)

Thanks to everyone who provided feedback for improving this gen, like KnotAnother, DRLa, Oarebt, Ceti, K01 and more!

Tech Talk

This was made using a local install of Reforge for Stable Diffusion using 3WolfMond: https://huggingface.co/Xeno443 . I'd recommend any or all of the 'Mond models, they're all some of the best furry SDXL models.

For the upload Tail Tagger was used to assist in tagging: https://github.com/renfald/tail-tagger . Along with the JPT-3 for AI assisted tags: https://huggingface.co/RedRocket/JTP-3/tree/main/models?not-for-all-audiences=true

AI Story - Praise the Sunbutt!

In the shadowed realms of Equestria's Edge, where the jagged cliffs of the Undying Shores met the endless churn of the Abyss Ocean, there stood a knight unlike any other. Sir Lumos, the Sun-Seeker, clad in his rusted armor etched with solar runes, had journeyed through fire-sworn trials and hollowed horrors to reach this precipice. His green cloak billowed like a tattered flag in the salty gale, and his helmet's red plume danced wildly, as if mocking the gravity of his quest. The air was thick with the briny tang of sea spray, mingling with a faint, ethereal sweetness—like vanilla cupcakes baked in a divine oven—that wafted from the heavens above. The crash of waves below roared like distant thunder, a rhythmic heartbeat echoing the knight's pounding pulse. His boots crunched on moss-slicked rocks, the cool dampness seeping through to his calloused feet, grounding him in this moment of revelation.

For eons, the legends whispered of the Great Solar Posterior, the colossal derriere of Princess Celestia, the Alicorn Sovereign who ruled not just the lands of ponies but the very cosmos itself. In this parody fantasy world—a chaotic mashup of grimdark souls and pastel pony magic—Celestia's butt wasn't just a flank; it was a celestial phenomenon, a monumental moon of milky white perfection that eclipsed the sun it bore as its cutie mark. Worshipers called it the "Eternal Cheek," a godly gluteus maximus so vast it could blot out horizons, its gentle curves holding the power to raise tides, inspire sonnets, and accidentally squash villages if she sat down too hastily. It was said that to gaze upon it was to taste forbidden ambrosia, a sensory overload of silk-smooth allure and jiggling majesty. And now, as the sky bled from stormy grays to molten golds, Sir Lumos beheld it rising like a divine apocalypse.

"Oh, by the flames of the First Bonfire!" Lumos gasped, his voice a gravelly baritone laced with awe and a hint of husky desire. He thrust his arms skyward, palms open in the sacred gesture of Praise, feeling the warm rays caress his gauntleted fingers like teasing whispers. The gigantic butt loomed enormous, easily the size of a small mountain—nay, a voluptuous volcano of pony posterior. Its surface gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, soft and plush as the finest velvet, yet firm enough to bounce a boulder. The golden sun cutie mark pulsed at its center, radiating beams that pierced the clouds like spears of liquid ecstasy, bathing the cliff in a glow that made Lumos's skin tingle beneath his armor. The multicolored tail, a cascade of rainbow hues—pink, turquoise, violet—swished lazily, sending gusts of perfumed wind that carried notes of lavender and sun-warmed hay, intoxicating his senses until his knees weakened.

From the heavens, a melodious chuckle echoed, vibrating through the air like a sultry symphony. "My faithful Sun-Seeker," boomed Princess Celestia's voice, rich and regal yet dripping with playful mischief. Her words resonated in Lumos's chest, a auditory embrace that made his heart skip. "You have traversed the Ponyvilles of Peril and the Darkroot Gardens of Despair to worship at my... throne? How delightfully devoted. But tell me, mortal knight, what draws you to my radiant rear? Is it the sheer scale, the way it commands the skies like a sexy supernova?"

Lumos dropped to one knee, the rocky ground biting into his joint with a sharp crunch, but he ignored it, entranced. Up close (or as close as one could get to such immensity), the butt's texture was mesmerizing—subtle dimples like craters on a forbidden planet, each curve undulating with a hypnotic rhythm that suggested hidden powers. He could almost feel the heat emanating from it, a sensual warmth that promised both comfort and combustion. "Your Magnificent Mooncheeks!" he proclaimed, his tone a mix of reverent fervor and barely contained lust. "They are the pinnacle of perfection! Gigantic, glorious, jiggling with the grace of a thousand sunrises! I have slain dragons with scales tougher than your tender hide, yet nothing compares to the allure of your almighty ass—er, I mean, astral asset! It sways with such seductive sway, blocking out the lesser stars, making lesser butts weep in envy!"

The colossal cheek quivered in response, a seismic giggle that sent pebbles tumbling into the abyss below. The sound was like thunder wrapped in silk, accompanied by a faint, musical hum from Celestia's flowing mane, invisible but implied in the ether. A stray beam from the cutie mark sun grazed Lumos's face, tasting faintly of honeyed sunlight on his lips as he licked them nervously—sweet, sticky, and utterly addictive. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Sir Lumos," Celestia purred, her voice lowering to a comedic whisper that still boomed across the waves. "But beware, for my posterior is no mere ornament. It holds the power to eclipse empires! Why, just last week, I accidentally mooned the Griffin Kingdom during a diplomatic twerk, and they surrendered their gold hoards on the spot. The size alone—oh, it's positively planetary! Imagine, if you will, cheeks so vast they could cradle a castle in their cleft, or smother a storm with a single sit."

As she spoke, the butt descended slightly, hovering closer like a flirtatious comet, its shadow enveloping Lumos in a cozy twilight. The air grew thicker, humid with a misty aura that smelled of fresh-baked pastries and forbidden fruit, making his mouth water. He reached out tentatively, his armored hand trembling, and brushed against an invisible barrier of magic—soft as down feathers, electric with sparks that danced up his arm, igniting every nerve with a comedic jolt of arousal. "Zounds! It's... it's softer than a phantom's sigh!" he exclaimed, stumbling back with a laugh, his voice cracking like a pubescent squire. "And the jiggle—by the gods, the jiggle! Each wobble is a symphony of sensuality, a comedic catastrophe for any who dare defy its dominance!"

Suddenly, a chorus of voices joined from the cliffsides—fellow worshipers emerging from hidden crags, a ragtag band of pony pilgrims and soul-weary knights. There was Twinklehoof, a unicorn mage with a starry robe, her eyes wide as saucers. "Praise the Posterior!" she neighed, her horn glowing with envy-tinged magic. "Its girth is greater than the Grand Canyon of Canterlot! I once tried to measure it with a spell, and it broke my ruler—literally snapped it like a twig!"

Beside her, Gruff the Griffin grumbled, his feathers ruffled, talons scraping stone with a metallic screech. "Aye, it's a beast of a butt. Sexy? Sure, if ye like yer horizons dominated by dimpled divinity. But comedic? Last time it rose, it caused a tidal wave that soaked me kingdom—me pants were wet for weeks!" He chuckled throatily, the sound like gravel in a blender, as he bowed low, feeling the ground tremble under the butt's playful bounce.

Celestia laughed again, the vibration sending ripples through the ocean, waves lapping higher with foamy kisses against the rocks. "Oh, my loyal subjects, your adoration amuses and arouses the cosmos! But let us revel in ritual. Sir Lumos, lead the chant!"

The knight rose, his armor clanking like comedic chimes, and bellowed: "Praise the Cheeks! Gigantic, glorious, gravity-defying globes of glee! May their shadow shelter us, their sway seduce us, and their size squish our sorrows!"

The group echoed, voices blending in harmonious hilarity—neighs, growls, and human grunts forming a cacophony that drowned the sea's roar. As the butt ascended once more, its sun mark blazing brighter, Lumos felt a profound peace, mixed with a cheeky thrill. In this world of parody perils, where butts battled bosses and flanks fought fates, worshiping Celestia's colossal caboose was the ultimate quest—sexy, silly, and sensationally supreme.

Yet, as the scene faded into eternal dusk, a whisper lingered: "Return anytime, Sun-Seeker. My posterior awaits your praise... and perhaps a polish." Lumos grinned, tasting victory's sweet afterglow, his senses forever imprinted with the grandeur of the greatest glute in the galaxy.

But the adventure didn't end there. Deep in the underbelly of the cliffs, a rival cult stirred—the Moonbutt Marauders, devotees of Luna's lunar derrière, plotting a cheeky coup. Led by Shadowstalker, a stealthy pegasus with a cloak of midnight, they schemed in whispers scented with night-blooming jasmine. "Celestia's colossal cake is overrated!" Shadowstalker hissed, her voice a velvety venom. "Ours is mysterious, mesmerizing, with craters that cradle secrets. We'll eclipse her eclipse with our own gigantic glow-up!"

Meanwhile, back on the precipice, Lumos savored the aftershocks. The air still hummed with Celestia's essence, a tactile tease that made his skin prickle. He imagined climbing those cheeks like a mythical mountain, each step sinking into plush paradise, the view from the summit a vista of voluptuous victory. Comedic visions danced: What if the butt belched a solar flare? Or wiggled a wormhole? The possibilities were as endless as its expanse.

Twinklehoof approached, her hooves clopping softly, mane tossing in the breeze. "Sir Lumos, did you feel it? The power surging through your veins like a sexy serum? Her butt's blessing boosts bravery—and bedroom prowess, or so the scrolls say."

Gruff snorted, beaks clacking. "Bah! It's all fluff and fluffier fluff. But damn if it ain't the biggest, bounciest beacon I've beheld. Makes me wanna fly up and give it a griffin-sized goose—just for laughs!"

Their banter flowed like fine wine, tart and intoxicating, as the group shared tales around a bonfire kindled by sunbeams. Lumos recounted his battles: dodging the Derriere Dragons, whose fiery farts mimicked meteor showers; navigating the Booty Bayou, where swamp sirens sang of spherical splendors. Each story amplified the absurdity, senses alive—crackling flames warming faces, smoky scents blending with sea salt, the taste of roasted marshmallows evoking Celestia's creamy complexion.

As night fell, the colossal butt hovered high, a watchful warden, its gentle glow guiding dreams. In this parody realm, where worship was witty and wanton, Sir Lumos knew one truth: No quest compared to chasing cheeks of such cosmic caliber. And so, the legend grew, butt by glorious butt.

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