#eugh obscene

[refloralisation]

My favourite Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson headcanon is that when Damian saw the discowing suit his honest, baffled reaction was

"How could you patrol like this, with your bare chest out? Obscene!!"

[faggling]

Nothing I hate more than seeing same sex CSA called commiting homosexual sex acts with a child.

I only see it in stuff from like fifty years ago and there's a lot of reasons why that's the language used aside from implicit (and explicit) homophobia. Especially when CSA was just starting to really enter public consciousness. But christ alive that phrasing sucks

[redvexillum]

Listen @nyx91 I'm not well versed in the realm of writing a threesome. So, I did my best.

TAGS/WARNING: AFAB!reader, threes♡me, d♡uble penetrati♡n, rough ♡ral s♡x, rough cunniling♡s, hair pulling, an♡l sex, p in v, d♡cryphilia, multiple ♡rgasm (f!receiving), over-stimulation, sobbing, begging, d♡m/sub, sub!reader, sq♡irting, reader gets their brain f♡cked out, rough s♡x, b♡ndage

The tendrils of shadows coiled around your wrists like snakes, slithering up your arms until they pinned you helplessly to the bed. Their grip was firm, almost possessive. Your breath caught in your throat, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, as your gaze darted between the eerie glow of Vox’s blue screen and Alastor’s piercing red eyes, watching you hungrily from the darkness.  

A sudden chill prickled across your skin as thin, metallic wires wrapped around your ankles, cool and unyielding, spreading your legs apart with deliberate slowness. Your body trembled, nipples hardening from both the icy air and the rush of sensation flooding through you. The slickness between your thighs grew shamefully, your cunt betraying you as it throbbed, anticipating what was to come.  

Footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, sharp and calculated, until the familiar weight of claws dug into your cheeks. Alastor’s grasp was commanding as he tilted your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. The ticking radio dials were a cruel rhythm that matched the sinister gleam in his gaze.  

“What was that, dear?” he hissed, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He tugged your face towards him, making your shoulders strain from where your wrists were bound above you.  

“I...I just wanted...” your voice faltered, breath catching once more as Vox’s fingers slid inside you unexpectedly, stretching your aching core with a rhythm that was both torturous and electrifying. Each plunge was punctuated by the wet, obscene sound of your slick, the noise amplifying in the oppressive quiet of the room.  

Alastor’s smile widened, mocking. “Eugh, Vox, must you really reward her insolence?” 

“Reward?” Vox’s chuckle was low and dangerous, his thumb pressing hard against your swollen clit, making you jolt violently, your body unable to contain the sharp spike of pleasure that shot through you. “Oh, I don’t think she’s seeing this as much as a reward, do you?” His voice dropped to a whisper as he circled your sensitive bud again, dragging another strangled cry from your lips.  

It was too much – pleasure and pain, an exquisite blend that left your body trembling, every nerve bursting to life with sensation. “Ngh - pl – pl-” you stammered, hips twitching, desperate to escape and yet needing more at the same time. Your cry was swallowed as your body arched, caught in the maddening whirl of overstimulation.  

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, his sharp claws ghosting down the length of your neck, trailing over your collarbone before pinching one of your nipples with cruel precision. You gasped, the pain sharp but twisting into something delicious as it mingled with Vox’s relentless thrusts and the pressure on your clit.  

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, your vision blurring as your mind struggled to keep up with the overwhelming assault of your senses. Alastor’s hands worked your breasts mercilessly, squeezing and twisting your nipples, while Vox curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot deep within that made you see stars.  

Your body couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure building inside snapped like a tightly wound coil, your back arching violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream. Your release crashed over you in waves, your body spasming helplessly under their touch.  

But as the tremors of your orgasm subsided, Vox withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving you gasping, your slick clinging to him as he pulled away. His voice was a low growl, vibrating with dark satisfaction. “Now you’ve done it...who gave you permission to come?” 

“You mean my permission,” Alastor scoffed, his dark grin widening as his gaze bore into you, predatory and gleaming with amusement. That familiar shiver coursed through you, his sinister energy wrapping around your body like a vice.  

You rolled your eyes in defiance. “There you guys go again,” you muttered under your breath, regretting it almost instantly when you felt the sharp intensity of Alastor's red eyes fixating on you, the weight of his anger palpable.  

“Is that why you’ve been such a brat lately, my dear?” His voice shifted, higher, mocking. The sound of zippers slowly undoing cut through the room, a tell-tale sign of what was to come. “You sent letters to both of us, didn’t you? Now, what was is that you wrote?” His smile turned menacing, his grin cutting through his cheeks.  

Vox’s voice chimed in, repeating your words like they were the punchline of a joke. “Why don’t you fuck and make up, you old farts,” he drawled, his deep tone laced with amusement.  

A wave of heat surged through your body, the embarrassment spreading from your flushed cheeks down to your chest. It had sounded so much better in your head when you wrote it. Now, in front of them, if felt immature. You shot a pleading look toward Vox, hoping for some reprieve. He was always softer with you compared to Alastor, more indulgent when Alastor revelled in pushing you to the brink.  

“That’s because you two were having a pissing match, and I didn’t want to be in the middle anymore!” you exclaimed, squirming against the binds that held you captive. Your plea hung in the air, but you could see from Alastor’s expression that he was far from convinced.  

“Oh? So, you thought it wise to snub me when I specifically asked you to come to my bedroom last night?” Alastor’s voice dripped with disdain, his tentacles undulating as they slithered across your body, binding your wrists behind your back. With a firm shove, he pushed you upright, his cock now in full view – thick, rigid, and the angry tip already slick with pre-cum. It pressed insistently against your cheek, hot and demanding.  

“I asked Vox to go instead,” you mumbled, the words barely leaving your mouth before Alastor’s fingers curled tightly into your hair. He yanked your head forward, forcing you to face him, his cock brushing against your lips.  

“Suck,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.  

“Hmph.” You closed your mouth defiantly, turning your head away with a stubborn pout. “No.” 

Alastor’s eyes darkened dangerously at your rebellion, and you could feel the tension rising between the two of them. You knew you were playing with fire, but the constant feud between them – the passive-aggressive digs, the battle for dominance – was exhausting. You wanted them to stop. “Not until you two make up with each other. Maybe fuck out all that frustration.” 

A screech of static and white noise filled the room, both Alastor’s and Vox’s displeasure evident. You winced at the sound, realizing just how much you’d overstepped. Perhaps discussing this in the middle of the bedroom, bound and at their mercy, wasn’t your wisest choice. But before you could even begin to back track, Vox’s voice cut through the air, dark and teasing.  

“Oh, baby doll,” he cooed, his tone dripping with danger. “It sounds like you’re asking for a punishment from the both of us.” 

Before you could protest, his long, serpentine tongue slid up your swollen cunt, the sensation jolting through your already sensitive body like a lightning bolt. You yelped, the sound muffled as Alastor took the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. The heady, intoxicating scent of him filled your senses as you instinctively began to suck, the weight of him pressing against your tongue, thick and unrelenting.  

"Any drama I have with Vox is none of your concern,” Alastor growled, his words vibrating against your skin as he pushed further into your mouth, making you take every inch. “I’m sure my old pal agrees with me,” 

Vox’s wet, obscene slurp echoed from between your legs, his tongue devouring your slick heat with fervour. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with a wicked gleam. “That’s right, baby. You just need to be a good little girl for us,” he rasped, his breath hot against your thighs. “Let us fuck you whenever we want, and open that pretty pussy for me.” His clawed fingers stretched you open, the sharp edges of them making you shudder as you felt the pain and pleasure mingling together.  

Alastor’s breath hitched as your tongue expertly swirled around the head of his cock, your mouth working him with practised ease. “In less...crude terms,” he grunted, pulling back only to thrust deeper, the tight space of your throat accommodating him as you gagged, “we fulfill each other’s desires. That’s all that matters.” 

His hips snapped forward, his balls slapping against your chin as he filled your mouth completely, the sensation overwhelming as you struggled to keep up. Every thrust pushed you further, your mind spinning from the sensory overload – Vox's tongue dragging you toward another orgasm, Alastor’s cock hitting the back of your throat with precision, the two of them taking control of every part of you.  

You moaned around Alastor’s length, the sound vibrating through your throat as your body convulsed, teetering on the edge of another release, knowing you were completely at their mercy.  

You had always known where you stood with them, perfectly slotting into the role they craved – a partner who could resist just enough to make the submission sweeter, but ultimately, their good little cock sleeve. The arrangement worked, and lately, you couldn’t help but notice the shift in their dynamic. Maybe this new obsession with taking you together was their way of rebuilding their bond, using your body as the bridge between their fractured relationship.  

Alastor’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back as his cock slipped free from your lips, slick with your spit. You barely had time to catch your breath before Vox’s thick, wet tongue plunged into your aching cunt, delving deep and curling inside you, exploring every inch of your soaked core. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your shoulders burning from being tied together, your legs trembling as they spread wide to accommodate him.  

Alastor’s voice slithered through the haze of pleasure, teasing. “Are you going to cum again, dear?” His hand stroked his length, the heavy head of his cock tapping against your lips, demanding entrance. “Are you going to cry and cum all over Vox’s tongue?” 

Your breathing was ragged, your chest rising and falling as the pressure built inside, another orgasm so close on the heels of the first. The edges of your vision blurred, your mind growing fuzzy, consumed by the sensations flooding your body. You nodded weakly, unable to speak, knowing you were on the verge of tipping over the edge.  

As the peak hit, your cry turned into a scream, your body convulsed, desperate to curl way from the relentless assault of Vox’s tongue, but Alastor was quicker. His cock thrust into your mouth with a rough shove, silencing your scream as the orgasm ripped through you. Your moans were muffled around his thick shaft, your saliva dripping messily from your lips as you gagged and swallowed, the raw intensity of pleasure overwhelming.  

When Alastor finally eased his grip on your hair, you collapsed back onto the bed, the mattress creaking beneath your weight. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, hips jerking with the aftershocks of pleasure that still pulsed through your body. Tears mixed with the saliva on your face, your eyes rolling back as you struggled to steady your breath.  

But there was no reprieve. You were barely aware of your body being shifted until you felt the solid warmth of Alastor’s chest pressing against your back. His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, the curve of his smile unmistakable as he whispered, “It seems it’s my turn to punish your ass today, dear.” 

A hot breath ghosted across your neck, and then you felt it – the blunt tip of Alastor’s cock pressing insistently against your tight ring. Your eyes widened in panic, your body instinctively tensing as a high-pitched whine escaped your lips. “T-too much,” you gasped, even though you knew what was coming. They had done this countless times, and every time, they left you wrecked – completely soaked by both their release and your own.  

“Oh, we know,” Vox’s deep voice rumbled from above, his hands bracketing either side of you and Alastor as he hovered over you. He didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, his thick cock drove into your slick, waiting pussy, stretching you wide with a sudden, powerful thrust. Your head fell back in a cry of agonizing pleasure, your body already trembling from the heat of it, your nerves tingling from the sheer fullness.  

“Ah, that’s it, baby,” Vox groaned, sinking into you to the hilt, his cock throbbing inside your tight walls. “You squeeze me so fucking good.” His voice was a dark, satisfied purr, every word dripping with lust.  

Bound and helpless, your wrists tied behind your back and pressed against Alastor’s stomach, you squirmed between them. Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous murmur in your ear, his cock now teasing your other entrance. “We’re not stopping, dear, not until you’ve learned to be a good...” His tip pressed against your tight opening, pushing just inside, the pressure maddening. “Obedient...” His breath hitched as he thrust deeper, sliding into your ass in one swift, brutal motion. “Girl.” 

You screamed, the sound raw and desperate, your body overwhelmed by the twin sensations of being filled to the brim. The stretch was almost too much, but at the same time, it felt so unbearably good. Your cunt clenched tight around Vox’s cock as Alastor’s length pushed deeper into you, the two of them moving in tandem, leaving no space for you to catch your breath.  

Vox let out a guttural groan, his eyes rolling back as he revelled in the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him, the thin wall separating him from Alastor’s cock rubbing against his own. “Fuck, that’s right, baby. So, fucking tight, so fucking perfect.” He thrust harder, deeper, his hips slamming against yours as you writhed beneath them.  

Alastor’s curses were hot against your ear, his body trembling with the force of his restraint, both moving in sync as they claimed you together. You could barely think, barely breathe, your mind reduced to nothing but the overwhelming sensations of being filled, completely owned by the two Overlords who had you at their mercy.  

Every thrust, every movement drove you closer to the brink, your body unable to hold back as another orgasm built within you, threatening to shatter you all over again. They didn’t stop, didn’t slow, driving you higher and higher until there was nothing left but the raw, aching pleasure of being utterly devoured by them both.  

Vox leaned down, hips lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The heat of it, the slick, possessive way his tongue curled against yours, muffled your moans as his cock, along with Alastor’s, continued to ravage you.  

Their relentless thrusts filled you to the brink, stretching you in ways that had you teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Alastor’s hot breath tickled your ear, tiny, almost imperceptible moans escaping him as he pumped into you from behind.  

Your body trembled, overwhelmed. You knew you wouldn’t last long – not with the way they were fucking you, both cocks hammering against every sensitive spot inside you. The remnants of your previous orgasms still echoed through your core, heightening every sensation, making it impossible to hold back as another wave of pleasure crashed over you.  

Vox’s pace quickened, his balls slapping against you and Alastor. The rhythm between the two men dissolved into chaos, each thrust growing more frantic. Sometimes they filled you at the same time, their thick cocks stretching your pussy and ass simultaneously, and other times they alternated, the sensation driving you wild.  

Vox pulled back from the kiss, panting heavily, his lips wet with your shared saliva. His head fell back as he continued to pound into you like a man possessed. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, his voice low and breathless. “So fucking right, both of you...feels so fucking good.” 

Alastor let out a rare, soft moan in response, his usually composed demeanour slipping. The wet, lewd sounds of your soaked pussy and their hard cocks slamming into you filled the room, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat.  

Your head fell back, resting against Alastor’s shoulder as the orgasm built inside you, threatening to consume you whole. You screamed as it hit, your voice raw and hoarse, your body convulsing weakly this time around.  

The intensity of it shattered you, warm liquid spraying from your cunt, drenching Vox and dripping down onto Alastor’s cock. Your heart pounded, your chest heaving as the pleasure tore through you, leaving you trembling and slick with sweat, your back sliding against Alastor’s chest.  

Vox grunted, still thrusting through your orgasm, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you louder now. “Oh, fuck, baby doll, is that for us?” His voice was rough, teasing, as he continued to drive into you. “You squirting just for us?” His words sent another ripple of pleasure through you, the sensation overbearing, overwhelming.  

“Heh, Alastor, come on, I know you want to blow your load,” Vox taunted, his voice strained as he fought to hold back.  

Alastor’s breath hitched, his hips slamming into you harder, his cock stretching your ass with every thrust. “Why don’t you come first?” he rasped, his voice dark with lust. “I can smell how close you are.” 

Your body was limp, utterly spent, but they didn’t stop. Both of them pushed you further, Vox’s hips snapping against you, his movements sending delicious jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. The pressure on your clit, the friction, was too much, too good. You were already nearing the edge again.  

“Pl-please, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, your body shaking with exhaustion and pleasure.  

Vox chuckled darkly, leaning in to whisper, “Oh, baby doll, you just sealed your fate.” 

Alastor’s tongue flicked out, tracing along your cheek to collect your tears, his hum of approval sending shivers down your spine. A low, feral growl rumbled deep in his chest, and you felt him swell inside you. Your ass stretched further as Alastor’s cock grew, his control slipping as the sheer size of him pushed you to your limits.  

That was Vox’s undoing. With a strangled curse, he came firm, his hot release flooding your pussy, filling you with a deep, satisfying warmth, Alastor’s hips slammed into you with a final, brutal thrust, his cock pulsing as he followed suit, spilling his thick cum into your ass with the same ferocity. The two men groaned, their bodies trembling against yours, their cocks twitching as they emptied themselves inside you. 

The sensation of being so full, of both of them throbbing within you, sent another shiver of pleasure through your body. Your breathing was ragged, harsh, as you tried to come down from the high, but they didn’t give you a moment to recover. Their cocks softened, slipping from you, and you let out a small, breathy moan as the sensation of their hot cum spilling from both holes sent one last wave of pleasure rippling through you.  

You barely registered the binds around your wrists loosening, your body too spent to move. All you could feel was the heat of their cum dripping from you, your holes convulsing weakly as they expelled the remnants of their release. Your mind was foggy, lost in the haze of exhaustion and pleasure, the only thing anchoring you to reality being the sight of their satisfied, devilish, smirking faces.  

You were completely spent, utterly wrecked, your body trembling and slick with sweat and cum. Every muscle ached, and your mind was swimming in a fog of pleasure and exhaustion. Yet, as you lay there, barely able to catch your breath, it was clear from the gleam in their eyes—they weren’t done with you yet. 

Alastor's fingers brushed against your cheek, deceptively gentle for someone who had just ravaged you so thoroughly. His grin widened, a dark promise lingering in the curve of his lips. “Oh, darling," he cooed, voice dripping with dangerous sweetness, "you didn’t think we were finished, did you?” 

Vox’s chuckle rumbled from somewhere behind you, and you felt the bed shift as he moved, his presence hovering close. “You see,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “we still need to teach you a little lesson about what happens when you decide to act like a brat.” 

And as Alastor’s hand curled possessively around your throat, and Vox’s lips pressed against your shoulder, you realized you weren’t just at their mercy—you were craving it. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[perdicinae-observer]

Hey dude I'm a big fan of whatever you're having right now so I just wanted to ask real quick for the future plans

Since Waterloo anniversary is coming, will you use your pussy to squirt out the English and the Prussians like how you did at Austerdt? be careful though because the Bluchussy is not a normal kind of puss and is hard to be competed unlike that Wellingtussy

Take care! 🎀

... [*sigh*] It has been approximately 201 years since I departed from the realm of the living, two-hundred-and-one. I am, to put it lightly, appalled that this message is a byproduct of the wondrous advancements humanity has made in all aspects of life.

In a life of comfort and peace― this is what you thought, wrote, and sent to me? Has common decency and manners been traded off in the name of progress? Was there not a single part of your brain that may have raised the question that, perhaps, you shouldn't ever write this to anyone? Or has common sense become a rarity to some of you― you lecherous fiends out there who lust and twist the image of my colleagues and I to fit your fantasies so publicly and without shame? It is not normal, it is obscene. This is an abhorrent assault on my eyes, sanity, and the very foundation of the human language as a whole. The men you slandered may be my adversaries in war, but they are still respectable men― this is not even mentioning the barbaric method in which you have suggested me in using my manhood for means of warfare...or whatever it is that you imagine to be in my breeches. Eugh. If I were to choose between reading this sentence aloud or being crushed by a fully-grown horse, head first into Russian soil in such a manner that General Sorbier believed me to be dead and sleeping soundly in the arms of our Lord like an infant...again; I would choose the horse tenfold and without regret. Now for the sake of all things created in the vision of God, kindly never pick up a quill again. Imbecile.

…Youth these days. I wasn't even at Waterloo...

... ...

...Did you hear laughing, boy?

The cookies... : (

[invisibleraven]

“I have cake in my eyes.” “Yeah, and I have cake down my shirt!” “Then just take off your shirt.” feels very Willex to me

Willie normally loved parties, but this was just not one he wanted to attend. Unfortunately building international relations was important, thus instead of relaxing in his bedroom back in DC, here he was in Buckingham Palace, observing the hoy piloi and wondering how long it would be until they cut the obscenely large cake.

Seriously, who needed a cake bigger than an average human being for a wedding? He bet it would be dry and full of like custard or coconut. Ew.

The other reason he didn't want to be here was standing across the room in a morning coat, complete with frigging tails and enough badges and sashes to make a beauty queen jealous. Prince Alex, second in line to the British Crown, and Willie's sworn enemy.

Was it petty to declare someone your enemy over a stupid disagreement at a youth summit three years ago? Sure. Did Willie care? Not in the least. But he had promised Caleb he'd be nice, thus avoiding Alex like the plague.

That unfortunately meant he was stuck by the sidelines, as it was kind of hard to avoid the brother of the bride even in a space this large. Hearing the whispers about Olivia's choice of groom, feeling the side long glances that shot his way. Trying not to flinch when they called him 'tramp' and Caleb worse.

Look, he knew he wasn't Caleb's biological son, but that man loved him more than anything, taking him from the group home when he was very young. Told WIllie he was done waiting for the right guy to make a family with. He'd asked his friend Clementine to help make a baby, but she wasn't able to donate the eggs thanks to complications, Delilah was trans, and Caleb didn't want to have a baby that some errant mom could try and take. So adoption it was.

The road from owning a dinner theatre in LA to residing in the White House had been an interesting one, but Willie got right out there and supported Caleb, picketing for votes right from the outset. Sure he had no interest in politics himself, preferring art and skateboarding, but he was always willing to help out his dad.

So those disparaging comments always stung, and he was never in a position to clap back. Just clenched his fists and blew out a breath, reminding himself he was not only representing his family, but his country itself.

"Okay there Covington?"

Willie turned and there was Alex, smirking at him and nodding to his fists. He shook out his hands. "Fine."

"It all getting to you?" Alex asked, surveying the room.

"It's not all bad, food is dec," Willie replied. He had been gorging himself on all the passing trays of appetizers, and figured that this was their meal. He'd rather sit down and eat at a table, but hey, if this was how the rich did it... "Waiting on cake." He nodded to the table they had found themselves next to on their turn of the room.

"Only the top and bottom are real," Alex whispered. "Rest is all styrofoam. I think Livvie has some sort of pudding ready to serve."

"Like chocolate or full of fruit and nuts?"

"The latter," Alex confirmed.

"Ew."

Whatever Alex was going to say to that was lost as a drunk duke or lord stumbled into them, pushing them down. Willie tried to catch himself, but he just managed to catch the edge of the tablecloth instead, pulling all seven tiers of buttercream monstrosity down on top of them.

He and Alex sat there for a moment, stunned, and Alex winced. "I have cake in my eyes."

“Yeah, and I have cake down my shirt!” Willie retorted, scooping a glob of frosting from his face. Eugh, it tasted rancid and overly fake. Probably a good thing he didn't eat any of it.

“Then just take off your shirt," Alex replied. "Seen you do it often enough."

Willie grumbled. "You do one topless photoshoot for Rolling Stone and it's all people see."

"I didn't say it wasn't a good shoot," Alex replied, blushing. Then swore as he saw guards and one very irate looking bride thundering towards them. "Shit, we gotta go before we end up in the Tower, or worse."

Willie found himself pulled up (wow, Alex was IstrongI, must be all the polo) and pulled through the palace, giggling as he saw the dumbfounded faces they passed by. Collapsing in a simple looking bedroom covered in posters of rock stars and pictures of friends. Plus a very happy looking beagle who came and tried to lick them clean.

"Shoo David!" Alex said, stripping off his coat. He then looked at Willie. "I'll get you some clean clothes, you can take the first shower."

"David, really?" Willie asked, scratching behind the dog's ears.

"After Bowie," Alex replied, handing him some comfy sweats and a pale pink shirt.

Later that day, still hiding out in Alex's bedroom, Willie couldn't say they were still sworn enemies. What they were was to be determined, but his kiss swollen lips and new contact info on his phone made him think the future of inter country relations looked pretty promising.

[loserboyfriendrjl]

"how did this happen?" marlene asked, dabbing at sirius' wound with a wet cloth.

it was stained red.

sirius was sitting on the washbasin cabinet, his grey eyes flicking between marlene's hand and his bloody knee. the dim light of the bathroom fell right on his eyes, making his eyelashes look silver, and his eyes mad.

"i told you, i got caught up in a fence when i was sneaking out away from hogsmeade today."

"you might get away with lies like that when you're telling them to remus, james or peter, but not me." she didn't look at him. "i'm not fooled that easily, and i think we've done enough shit together to know when you're lying or not, sirius."

sirius covered his eyes with the heels of his palms and chuckled quietly. "you won't believe me if i'll tell you."

marlene laughed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "i have four brothers. believe me, nothing is actually impossible. now, say goodbye to the lame excuse of," she air-quoted, "i got caught up in a fence when i was sneaking out away from hogsmeade today, and tell me what happened."

"promise you won't laugh." he pointed a finger to her, and she noticed that his black nail polish was chipped. marlene made a mental note to give him some to fix them. "you know what? save it. don't promise me anything. i know you'll laugh either because you think it's funny or just to spite me, so there's no point in trying."

she threw her hands up, clutching the cloth in her hand. "okay, you caught me. go on."

"it is, actually, a hogsmeade escapade story."

"cut the bullshit!" she exclaimed, lightly shoving him.

"it was!" he said, laughing. "i snuck out with remus and we were snogging down an alleyway near scrivenshafts and i heard some footsteps and i could make out the sounds of my brother's expensive shoes so, naturally, i didn't want him to see me snogging some bloke, and one of my best friends, while we're at that, so we ran off, but i got caught in some bush and i fell to my knees-"

"in front of remus! obscene!"

"piss off!" he laughed. "i fell and scraped my knee."

"oh my god! you literally fell for him!" she cackled. "after you got hurt just so that you two wouldn't be caught sneaking off and with the other's tongue down your respective throats, it's gotta be obvious that, if you'd do that for him, you gotta tie the knot. you ought to marry him!" she joked, slapping him lightly with the cloth. "he's the man made for you."

"he is, isn't he?" sirius asked, a lovestruck grin spreading across his face, and marlene resisted the urge to not roll her eyes.

merlin, he was in love.

"that sounds like a cheesy, movie love story!" she fake-gagged, snickering.

"i can make it be. whatever he wants me to, whatever he wants us to be, we'll be just that. after last year, i wouldn't want to fuck up my relationship with him again."

"eugh! he's turned you soft!"

"has not! you're just jealous because i have a boyfriend and you're still single," sirius teased her, wiggling himself in her direction.

"yeah, right," she grinned, leaning against the sink as she turned the tap water on. "i'm happy for you, sirius. hope it works out the way you want it to be and that you'll be happy and married and with two dogs and three cats and all that soppy shit."

and she really wished for that, deep within her, and she looked up to him, beaming. sirius smiled back, lopsided and full of secrets.

[morphlingunderscore]

alsoooo. hm. 'the bastardisation of me and you' we're on a pairs theme tonight

The Bastardization of Me and You - Rassel witnesses something that shocks them to their very core, and simply has to show Eli.

Bang!

Roughly 200 lbs of Enderman hit window like a butterfly splattered across beautiful stained glass. Declan's house, wonderfully built as it is, only shudders in response.

"Eli!" The voice is winded and distant, calling pathetically from the lawn, flopped out. "Eliiiiiii!!"

"y'know, dec told me you can fly better than that," their obscenely tall friend remarks after calmly and slowly making their way outside, because apart from the brief heart attack, they know it can't be anything serious. "did you make a bet?"

"No, it's just fun to pretend to be a bug," they chirp, bouncing back from impacting with the side of a house face-first in record-breaking speed. They're clutching something in each hand. Plushies? "But for real. This is so important! Look at these!"

They thrust the plushies into the air, face twisted into something caught between smile and grimace. Though, admittedly, that could be the remnants of hitting that window.

Taking the bait, Eli ambles closer, craning down to inspect the evidently very important plushies-- hang on. Wait.

"What the hell?" Eli chokes out, trying not to laugh. "Is that supposed to be *you?*"

Rassel responds by throwing the plushie - that is definitely meant to be The Thaumaturge - directly at their face.

"Shut up!" They whine, flustered. "It's cool!! I have a stuffie!"

Eli strategically doesn't mention that they technically already did, eyeing the poor thing with a critical eye, unable to hold back snickers. "oh man, they must've outsourced to a different guy this time. They made your horns backwards and forgot your torn ear! plus they cheaped out and just made 'em glued on felt. Eugh."

"Yeah, okay wiseguy," Rassel huffs, sitting up to pick at the grass, hugging the other plush to their chest. " 's not like yours came out any better this run."

Eli snaps to attention at that.

The rest of the afternoon is spent tussling in the grass, a direct result of dissing eachothers plushie selves.

[professor-ruckus]

Hi Riley i just came to the blog to ask you about what do you think of mafia you AU Form @fnaffreak3478 if you ever get a chance to go there that is they are also a simp just go to your page and you'll see why. Also if you don't know what a Simp is basically a simp do you have a crush on someone that's what simp means.

Sorry if this was a long😓

"I'm using this ask to inform you hosts that I have discovered the art form that is a 'meme'."

"I truly hope this does not come off as obscene..."

"Anywho... yes, I have seen their art of me. Frankly... I can see why it fills you all with such glee."

"I may not be an enjoyer of the arts, like my brother, but I can still appreciate the skill they put into their work."

"Though, again, all you 'simps' need to calm down, you all act bezerk-!"

"... On another note. I am seeing a lack of proper punctuation in this message you wrote."

"Please fix this, if you plan on sending another one."

"Thank you, my rant is now done."

"... Eugh- I am far too tired to rhyme right now-"

-Riley.

[bad-rper]

🎬 WEC: getting stomped on when discovered in Duskthorn Deliveries

I am a wretched skinny stick thing. Thinly pointed, with no mouth, with undulating black blobs filled with wet where my eyes should be. Twiggish appendages that are my arms; tapers narrowing down into leggy struts of waifish rangy parts. I leave a moist trail when I move. Blotches of diseased, evil grey come and go in my sclera, as thought light is being beamed from within. Outwardly; dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as a kaldorei, a thing whose shape is so alien a travesty that elvenity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance. Inwardly: alone. Here. Living under the Moon, under the stars, in the belly of a delivery shop...

I have no mouth. And I must--

*SPLORTCH*

"Eugh. Horrid creature."

Every day. [Aris i aris i aris].

[congregenturanimarum]

@enoqian || LIKED the STARTER CALL

"Eugh..." The sound emerged from his throat ere he could do aught to prevent it, the obscene bitterness that now coated his tongue from the sip of coffee one in which he absolutely detested.

Truly, never would he go for anything so vile but caffeine was needed and with his usual stock of preferable teas out of reach given that he was at the Last Stand, he'd very little choice if he wanted to remain awake for long enough to get through marking the essays he had piled in front of him.

When he looks up, however, he espies another looking rather directly back and only after a moment further did he realise that said staring was likely because of his disgusted exclamation.

"Ah---" Heavens, he felt abysmally embarrassed: softened flush blossoming across features. He waves a hand, half attempting to waft his burning cheeks half hoping to simply sweep aside the situation entirely: "--I detest coffee but require the caffeine to keep on marking these and..." With a half chuckle, he turns briefly towards the Last Stand: "--the teas stocked here are, unfortunately, not to my liking."

Blue eyes gaze down as his dear fox friend and companion shifts upon his feet, enjoying his time lay within the bright sun and fresh air: 't was good he was there, for Naosont ought not be drinking too much caffeine at all, given his condition but... Peche would know if aught was amiss.

[princepsfianna]

Long boring rant about capitalism and England.

As the first hour of the morning comes. I can not think of a time when our movement has been in a sorrier state than it is right now. Aye, right at this very movement. The whole world’s been swallowed up by the capitalist beast, and there’s nae a single nation left where the folk aren’t split clean into two—proletariat and bourgeoisie. Quoting, the bold Fenian men.

"Our foes were united, And we were divided! We met and they scattered our ranks to the wind! But once more returning within our veins burning. The fires that illuminate dark Aherlow glen! We raise the old cry anew, Slogan of Con and Hugh! Out and make way for the bold Fenian men!"

it does really feel like those two verses, our foes are united and we are divided and thus we are to be scattered to the winds. Alas though our veins are burning with those fires there is just nothing to carry it. Although the contradictions of this vile, debaucherous and filthy vermin of a system grow starker and starker wi each passing day. When the wealth of the few grows to obscene amounts like the parasitical scum that they are and the many are left scrabbling in the dirt for their scraps of dogs. The cries are multiplying by the hour and wars are breeding like rats in a granary. The earth is groaning 'neath the strain of climate change. Yet for all this, for all of this there is not a single serious communist movement which stands firm anywhere on the beautiful soil of God's green fucking earth. Even in quite bleak days like 1848, 1871, 1916, 18 then 25 there was always a flicker of hope. A notion that our movement would rise again, rally the people and press on to the next fight. That it would bounce back and we would never surrender but now? There's just no movement. Worse yet? There's no hope. It seems more likely that every turn any stirrings of revolution will be brutally strangled in its crib before they can breath. We just cannot seem tae muster any strength to overturn capitalism afore we oureselves have our head cut off as we start to rise. It's looking less and less likely that we shall triumph or that we can rebirth society and much more like something akin to the common ruin of humanity. Which, in the capitalist era, is probably the extinction of human life due to nuclear war or some other manmade disaster. Eugh, I'm dooming but our movement has never been this low and I just can't carry any-out anymore hope man.

I wrote this a few days ago but I have some new perspectives. I forgot that we can't forget the bitter and long shadow of English dominion. Not only is capitalism obliterating our movement but there is a wound which has been inflicted for about a thousand years. The Gaelic tongue, vibrant once, is dead. In Scotland the Gaidhlig tongue is much the same. It has died in the throats and the lungs of those to whom that proud race one spoke of it. They are choked out, reduced to little more than whimpers of the forgotten. Our land was once a culture rich, strong and beautiful, bound together by kinship and fraternity but now is fractured. Ground and tarred under the boot of imperialism and scottish quislings. Conquered not by english steel, but english gold as 'parcel of rogues' so eloquently puts. With deceit, the slow erosion of Scottishness and becoming the tartan fool, not the kilted warrior but the drunken brawler and the fool. Not a nation of genius to which Ben Franklin once reported but a nation of drugs and corruption. Who can we blame but the so called acts of union? Their crown and civilisation which came with their laws, commerce and of course their contempt. Supported by the traitors of the lowlandic populations, of whom some supported this foreign implantation. The clearances, the famines, the broken treaties—these were not accidents of history but deliberate acts of extermination upon the Gaidhlig race in Scotland and as a part of a wider erasure of Celticness. In Cymru, Éire and Alba or in Manx the very same story was repeated. Dressed in the false guise of progress the grim reaper of England ravaged our countries and we were divided, the celtic nation was crippled, conquered and subjugated in every meaningful way. And now, we find ourselves divided, each generation further removed from the ancient ways, losing piece by piece what once made us whole. The Gaels, once proud and defiant, are scattered to the four winds, their tongues silenced, their stories half-remembered, their hearts broken. The English beast has devoured all before it, and left us with little more than the crumbs of our own heritage. We are broken, totally and utterly conquered and our culture is dead. It lies ableeding and there is no chance of a revival. What little hope was gained from the Free State is died as the Gealtacht lies weaker and on its last legs.

Our race one stood together, man for man, sister for sister, brother for brother and mother to mother. But now our nation is gone. The highlands are empty, a ecological disaster that is romanticsed in its sollitude. The earth is crying, the animals are dying on that land which was once filled with great love, great joy, great people and great ecology. Now, now thoughit's dead and I am immesurably distressed by it.

[malumxsubest]

it was time to feed the kittens that hellboy had brought over a few days ago from a mission. the poor dears. they were merely four weeks old with no mother. she ultimately took the role to help nurse them since it kept her busy from being irate all the time. in fact, it was something she looked forward to since kittens that age required to be fed on a tight schedule once established.

yet hellboy, being an obscene cat-lover, decided to keep them in his room. so that meant, she had to begrudgingly venture towards his side of the facility. ugh, why couldn't he set up somewhere closer? like the library? amelia huffed, mentally swatting her irritation away before coming to a halt at his closed door. odd. normally it was kept ajar enough for her to slink on through...

either her keen senses failed her or what, but heard nothing alarming after she had pounded her fist against the door, the sound reverberating through the hall... the fuck. she refrained from pinching her nose and pried the door open with a huff. only to widen her eyes at the salacious scene before her. amelia wasn't prude, by any means. hell, she embraced sexuality in the most sinful of ways without directly touching someone. however, she couldn't help it but shriek her question, redirecting her stare up at nowhere in particular.

she was bloody tempted to smack an object at his face. stupid. this was all so stupid. " i did knock, you-- eugh, come find me when you're finished. " she sputtered out, her heart racing as she rushed out and audibly slammed the door shut behind her.

she needed a bloody drink... and a bullet between the eyes in hopes the image would singe away.

Sender: @malumxsubest Prompt: "Who doesn't lock the door?!" ( Cos why the hell not and I think it'll be funny for me and not amelia )

Hellboy generally did well at ignoring his own sexual needs. Time was not something he usually had in large quantities, often going from one mission to the other in rather quick succession, the world always dealing with one paranormal situation or the other. Moments where he was able to slow down for a bit was when those desires struck him hard.

Might as well get enjoyment out of the brief reprieve from work, right?

He'd sat on his mattress, back resting up against the cool wall. Yellow eyes rolled back a little as his head lolled back. A quiet groan rumbled through his broad chest as his hand, aided with a slight application of baby oil, granted some relief from the throbbing. Slow strokes, pacing himself.

That's how she found him when she barged into his room without so much as a knock - or maybe she had knocked and he'd been too busy to notice - red cock glistening from the oil, tail looped tightly onto one of the legs of the bed frame.

“Who doesn't lock the door?!”

“Who the fuck doesn't knock,” he grunted back. Shyness was one thing he rarely showed and now wasn't one of those shy moments. Hand still working because he was at a good spot and wanted to keep that tension going. “Well, close the door.”

[3rdniggafromthesun]

i always have to sleep on getting into another classic rock band. be like "ok do you REALLY need to get into another group of mediocre british men or are you just bored and tired."

its like a serious decision. i also need to sift thru the tags on here to see if i vibe with what im seeing in their photoshoots. if theyre too gimmicky i cant do it, it makes me cringe. dont rlly like bands that are a lot about image and being cool or hard, idc if the music is good or the members r cute its just embarassing if theyre trying too hard to be a certain vibe.

[unidentifiedfuckingthing]

episode 1 of regular show was actually so funny. idk if that was a pilot or not but the entire show went down from there

[ibis-gt]

aaaand have a short drabble for a borrower cam au too bc Por Que No Los Dos. uhhh major spoilers for an agatha christie novel but it’s not mentioned by name so. there you go.

When Cam first came across the little cottage in the woods, he heaved a sigh of relief. A human this close to his home was a blessing. He wouldn’t have to travel nearly so far to restock on certain supplies anymore. Anything metal or plastic he needed would likely be inside those walls, and he might even be able to snag some extra food. He really needed something to help him bulk up a little more for the coming winter; mouse pelts only went so far in keeping a body warm.

When he got inside, it was better than he could have possibly dreamed. The occupant was clearly concerned with the aesthetic of the place. There were odd bundles of dried herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling, overflowing pots of succulents and ferns and other pretty plants, cutesy leaf patterns painted on the walls and over doorways, little throw pillows with mushroom and forest designs on overstuffed furniture. The whole place was cozy and quaint and straight out of a picture book. And after he’d gotten a look at the pile of stuffed animals in the bedroom, he knew he was set for life. Whoever lived here adored cute little things, and what was cuter or littler than Cam himself? All he had to do was stroll right up to them and introduce himself, and it was the easy life from here on out.

Oh, sure, he’d heard the horror stories of humans getting their hands on borrowers. But he’d also heard the success stories of borrowers getting all but adopted by the humans that had discovered them, pampered and adored and given everything their heart desired. He wasn’t much for daydreaming, but he couldn’t deny that the hard work of survival wore on a body, and more than once he’d thought about trying to get himself a human. And now this wonderful opportunity had landed right in his lap.

Cam took out his hair clip and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to work out all the tangles, before giving up and clipping it back again. He examined his reflection in a shiny ceramic plant pot. Adjust the poncho, wipe a bit of dirt off his face, check for anything between his teeth - okay. All good. He was looking his best and ready to get loved on.

The cottage’s occupant was lying on his back on the couch with a book and a glass of water. He’d finished the water some time ago and was now thoroughly wrapped up in his book. It was a murder mystery, and he’d made frequent guesses out loud to himself about the killer’s identity. He made one now.

“Oh, the secretary must have done it,” he said.

“Actually, it was the doctor,” Cam said, from his position on the arm of the couch inches away from the human’s ear. “Unreliable narrator, see.”

The human shot upright with a scream. Cam smiled at him.

“Hi, how ya doin’. Look, I live in these woods, and gosh is it a tough time out there. Wolves and birds of prey and the nastiest rodents you’ll ever meet. Sure would be nice if someone took me in and saved me from this horrible life of - whoa whoa whoa oh sHIT - ”

Cam leapt off the arm of the couch as the book thwacked into the space he’d just occupied. He landed on the coffee table, momentum carrying him forward into a roll. He sat up and whipped around just in time to see the man holding the empty glass over his head. Cam tried diplomacy one last time.

“Hey, listen, no need for all this, I just - ”

The glass thunked over him, mercifully open-side down. The human scrambled off the couch and ran to the other side of the room, hiding behind an armchair. Cam stared in open-mouthed silence through his glass prison. That... had not gone according to plan.

Across the room, Luther sat with his back pressed against the armchair and tried to slow his breathing to a normal rate. That... had been a tiny man. A tiny man who spoke to him. A tiny man who spoke to him and spoiled the ending of the book. What the hell was that all about? Were there more of him? Oh god, what if there were more, living in his walls, scrabbling around and -

To his horror, Luther realized he could hear a faint tnk tnk tnk noise coming from the room behind him. Slowly, he dared to peer over the edge of the armchair.

“HEY!” Cam yelled, voice muffled through the glass as he pounded his fist against it. “This is not how this is supposed to go! Get back here and dote on me, idiot!”

Luther ducked behind the chair again. Nope. Nope nope nope. He would not be doing that any time soon.

For another solid fifteen minutes, Luther cowered from a man a tenth of his size while Cam yelled obscenities, banged on the glass, and cursed his stupid luck. He finally gave up and sat down, putting his head in his hands.

Luther waited. The silence continued for a moment. Then, he heard something that chilled him to the bone. The faint but unmistakable sound of glass sliding across a tabletop.

In an instant, he vaulted the armchair and dashed to where the book had fallen on the floor. He slammed the volume down on top of the glass, pinning it in place. Cam, who had had to use every ounce of strength he had to move the glass even a few centimeters, threw his hands up in frustration at the added weight.

“Great! Leave me here to die, why don’t you!” His voice cracked, going hoarse from all the shouting. He kicked the glass, only succeeding in hurting his foot, and sat down again in a huff.

Luther got down on his knees and peered cautiously in at the tiny man.

“H-hello?” He managed to say.

Cam glared at him and gave a sarcastic wave.

“Um, are there more of you around?” Luther darted a nervous glance around the room.

“Nope. Just me here.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” Luther ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t think I could handle more than one of you. I mean, I can barely take care of spiders, you know?”

“I believe it,” Cam snorted. Then an idea came to him. “I could, though.”

“You could what?”

“I could take care of spiders. For you, I mean. I bet you get a lot in here, right?”

Luther grimaced. “So many! Oh god, and they’ve got all those legs, and they leave those horrible webs with all those insects in them... eugh.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to have to deal with all that. You want a professional.”

“A professional?” Luther echoed doubtfully.

“Exactly.” Cam spread his arms out wide. “You want someone who can go toe to toe with them, literally! You want someone on the spiders’ level. Well, he’s right here, and available for hire for the low low price of a place to sleep and a bite to eat.”

“Hmm.” Luther considered this. He looked critically at Cam for a moment. “I bet you don’t eat much, do you?” He mused.

“And I don’t take up too much space, either.” Cam waggled his eyebrows. “Whaddya say?”

Luther paused for a moment, then said, “Okay, sure. Just don’t spoil any more books for me and you’ve got a deal.”

Cam gave a sheepish grin. “Heh, sorry about that.” He waited for a moment. Neither man moved. “Soooo... are you going to let me out?”

Luther chewed his lip. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“...When are you going to do that?”

“Right... now.”

Another long moment passed.

“Okay, but see, you didn’t lift the gl - ”

“I’m working on it! Give me a minute!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

They stared at each other for another moment or two.

“Buddy. This is not how I want to spend my night. Let me out.”

“AAAaaaaokayokayokay.” Luther lifted the book and the glass and shot backwards onto the couch, curling into a ball and staring at Cam. Cam stared back at him curiously.

“You are... weirdly afraid of small things.”

Luther buried his face in his hands. “I knowww,” he moaned. “I’m sorry.”

“There, there,” Cam said. “We’ll work through it together, roomie.”

[whataboutmyfries]

Why am I awake at 5:45am? Good question, goood question.

The answer is: Work. Stupid Work. Takes me forever to get there.

Buuuut I have 3 weeks off in *checks calendar* 3 weeks! & I'M SO HAPPY ABOUT IT! So much time to write!

i just re read Elitist Nightmares & I started chapter 9 today!

Okay.. Okay to be honest.. I just wrote: START WITH THIS SHIT & GET IT DONE YOU LAZY SHIT!

😂 It still counts

eugh that is obscenely early and I am so impressed with you for being able to get up that early, damn. 

BUT ALSO YAYYYYYY HOLIDAY!

(yes that absolutely does count thank you very much, you got this!)