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whumpster-fire · 2 years ago

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A Curated Selection of Tweets from Dread Lord K'thyzyxathrax The Soul Flayer's account @KthyzyxathraXXX

Dread Lord K'thyzyxathrax the Soul Flayer is an evil overlord, accomplished lich king, and one of the most dangerous necromancers in the world. He is also terrible at using Twitter. These are some of his recent misadventures.

CW for dark humor, satire, genocide references, animal death,

The Sans Undertale Incident

I fucking hate all you people trying to "destigmatize" skeletons but especially Toby Fox. People dont even think a walking skeleton is scary anymore. Fuck off its a dead guy walking around with no muscles or tendons. This is an abomination against Gods and nature.

I'm trying to strike terror into the populace here and you are making my job way harder. I'm not saying challenge doesnt breed innovation, wait til you see the shit I have in my dungeon rn, just sayin if I hear one more Sans Undertale joke some of you are gonna have a bad time

Curator's note: replies omitted but you can imagine what they were like

Motherfucker. He says that? How the fuck was I supposed to know, I don't play your stupid preschooler video game about being nice to people.

Shut up all of you. I am not your funny video game skeleton teenager. Power Word: BLOCKED

The next motherfucker who remixes my ominous entrance music with Megalovania will be slowly flayed alive over a hundred year period, and also sued for copyright infringement.

The Mortuary Supply Drama

Since Charnel Chuck's Mortuary Supply Co. has refused to lift my "lifetime ban" on the grounds that they only approve of necromancy for "peaceful purposes" and with the "consent" of those whose remains are being used and have deleted my 1 star Yelp reviews (1/3)

(2/3) I have no choice but to take my grievance to Twitter. Your "code of ethics" is completely discriminatory against my desire to use undead to murder people. Go fuck yourselves. Your business is shit and even if you lift my ban I will never patronize your establishment (2/3)

(3/3) again after the way I have been treated. Your customer service is appalling. And another thing, any "lifetime" ban on me should have expired like a thousand years ago so double fuck you. @CharnelChucks www.CharnelChucksMortuary.com follower horde ratio them. Get their asses

Curator's Note: A followup tweet also posted the address of the business in question. This has not been reproduced due to our policy against doxxing, although it is available on their website.

(4/4) fuck I didn't add enough parts. Your products are also shoddy and overpriced and your storefront is inappropriately brightly lit for your industry. I hope your vampire customers sue you for using fluorescent lights.

(5/4) @CharnelChucks unblock me you fucking cowards. I saw that fucking statement you made disavowing all association with me, and you have no room to talk shit. You still sell products over Amazon.com after the scandal over them staffing their warehouses with (5/4)

(6/4) reanimated corpses of employees who said the word "Union" on the messenger app. Y'all can't take a stand for "respecting wishes of the deceased" and "ethical necromancy" while picking and choosing which evil overlords you work with. Also you refused to honor (6/4)

(7/4) your buy-2-get-1-free sale on crematory urns on my order of 600 urns. There was nothing on your sign about a 3-urn maximum. You assholes owe me $79,999.76. I'm opening my grimoire right now and looking up Power Word: Go Fuck Yourself

The Washington Monument Restoration

To everyone tagging me while they watched the evening news last night:

1: I didn't do it, that was my friend @CardinalCarnage

2: I wish I'd thought of it first, that was fucking hilarious, and I'm impressed with him for getting two 50' solid marble orbs onto the National Mall

3: The Washington Monument was supposed to have balls and a glans in the original plans, but the confederates got custody of the balls in the civil war and at the time an aluminum cap of that size was too expensive so it was downsized.

So actually it's a restoration not a defacement.

4: If you want to see what defacing a monument looks like it wait 'til you see Mt Rushmore

I didnt fucking do anything to Mt Rushmore you idiots, they literally carved it into a sacred mountain just to be dicks to Native Americans. Fucking mortals. But hey thanks for the idea

As an evil overlord I think carving your face into the monument of a people you conquered and oppressed is a pretty swag move but doing dead guys' faces instead of your own is just sad.

I was thinking about re-carving all the major statues into my own face when I take over America but since I'm skeletal people will probably just think it's the same guys except accurately depicting how they look now since they're dead. But then again thats also a power move so still considering it

Retweeted from @CardinalCarnage:

No, I only did the Monument, @KthyzyxathraXXX deserves full credit for filling the Reflecting Pool with blood. Nice job bro, my cultists think it's really cool and so do the boys in Hell

Thanks. Turns out it takes a lot of people to fill that with blood. Really wish there was more of it per body, had to keep healing the sacrifices because I didn't bring enough.

Vulture Culture, The Migratory Bird Treaty Act, and Cincinnati

Really loving the Vulture Culture pinterest boards for inspiration when making new unholy abominations. Newbie necromancers take note: don't limit yourself to using human remains, you will stifle your creativity.

Been making so many "pets" lately I'm actually running out of space, so I'm adopting some of them out. I made this little fella from roadkill on I-64. He's free to a good home. I am not responsible for odor or leakage of putrefying bodily fluids onto your carpet.

Replying to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

Yes those are crow skulls. Nicely spotted!

Replying to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

I didn't sign any goddamn migratory bird treaty.

Replying to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

Fine, I removed and destroyed all the bird parts. JFC tell your followers to cool their jets. I cant believe I found a government body more annoying than the IRS

Tweet made at the US Fish and Wildlife Service

Come get your game wardens. Sorry not sorry but they wandered into my labyrinth of terror and fell in a spike pit. You have 1 week to recover their bodies or I'm using them.

Replying to OSHA:

Don't you fucking start. It's a dungeon it's supposed to be full of deadly booby traps. If you tell me I'm supposed to have railings on a spike pit I installed with the express purpose of people falling in it and dying you'll be first to go when I conquer this wretched land

Replying to OSHA:

No I'm not fucking removing them. Shove a traffic cone up your asses. No weight that's the DOT's thing. What do you even do again?

Really disappointed in the lack of adoption offers. How can you resist a face like this? Yeah the flesh is peeling off. I think the kids today call that Skrungly.

Man this hobby is really addictive. Fuck I'm supposed to be raising armies and pillaging cities but I just spent the last 4 hours sewing a dozen raccoon arms to a dead coyote's neck.

NVM I gave it a petrifying bite and a chain reanimation spell so killing two birds with one stone. Might also transmit rabies. Oh this is gonna be FUN. USFWS don't @ me because I said "killing two birds"

I meant P U T R E F Y I N G bite. Fucking autocorrect. Petrifying bite and chain reanimation would be useless.

Check this out. This buck's antlers carry a whole rack of Multiple Indepently Maneuvering Possums.

Really Autocorrect? You correct Petrifying but let Indepently slide? Whatever. Anyway got a pretty good army going after all. Those possums are MEAN. City of Cincinnati pray to your impotent Gods because I'm coming for you. That'll teach you to lose the superbowl.

Yeah, yeah, I only got as far as Covington and Newport. Fuck off, I know most of you have never invaded a metropolitan area. This was easier in medieval times when infrastructure wasn't so car dependent. 40k casualties is still a productive weekend

I can cross running water just fine. I stopped south of the river on purpose because seeing the other side reminded me of how much Ohio sucks so I decided I don't want it.

Okay fine. I swore a blood oath to never set foot in Ohio again after losing a hundred bucks on the superbowl this February. Exact wording was "until an Ohio team wins a Major League Sports championship" so in practice never.

Catapulting diseased corpses across the river is fair game. Have fun with that.

@CardinalCarnage appreciate the offer but seriously don't worry about it, that city sucks anyway. Just gonna let it go, pretty sure making "Ohio" no longer exist as a political entity cancels the oath anyway so shouldn't be too long even if their teams keep sucking ass

#Dread Lord K'Thyzyxathrax the Soul Flayer #my writing #epistolary fiction #twitter #humor #dark humor

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ofbloodandfaith · 3 years ago

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Welsh New Year's Day traditions: British Goblins by Wirt Sikes

Glamorganshire - apple gift or New Year's gift: “...children, on and about New Year's Day, going from door to door of shops and houses, bearing an apple or an orange curiously tricked out. Three sticks in the form of a tripod are thrust into it to serve as a rest; it sides are smeared with flour or meal, and stuck over with oats or wheat, or bits of broken lucifer matches to represent oats; its top is covered with thyme or other sweet evergreen, and a skewer is inserted in one side as a handle to hold it by.

...takes the custom back to the Druidic days, and makes it a form of the solar myth... three supporting sticks of the apple... three rays of the sun, the mystic Name of the Creator; the apple is the round sun itself; the evergreens represent its perennial life; and the grains of wheat, or oats, Avagddu’s spears. Avagddu is the evil principle of darkness - hell, or the devil - with which the sun fights throughout the winter for the world's life.

Pembrokeshire: to rise early on New Year’s morning is considered luck-bringing... also deemed wise to bring a fresh loaf into the house. A rigid quarantine is also set up, to see that no female visitor cross the threshold first on New Year’s morning; that a male visitor shall be the first to do so is a lucky thing, and the reverse unlucky. As soon as it is light, children of the peasantry hasten to provide a small cup of pure spring water, just from the well, and go about sprinkling the faces of those they meet, with the aid of a sprig of evergreen. At the same time, they sing the following verses:

Here we bring new water from the well so clear,

For to worship God with, this happy new year;

Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, the water and the wine,

With seven bright gold wires, and bugles that do shine;

Sing reign of fair maid, with gold upon her toe;

Open you the west door and turn the old year go;

Sing reign of fair maid, with gold upon her chin;

Open you the est door and let the new year in!

The words 'levy dew' are deemed an English version of Llef i Dduw (a cry to God).

Glamorganshire - welsh song sung by boys in chorus on New Year's Day, somewhat after the Christmas carol fashion:

Blwyddyn newydd dda i chwi,

Gwyliau llawen i chwi,

Meistr a meistres bob un trwy'r ty,

Gwyliau llawen i chwi,

Codwch yn foreu, a rheswch y tan,

A cherddwch i'r ffynon i ymofyn dwr glan.

A happy new year to you,

Merry be your holidays,

Master and mistress - everyone in the house;

Arise in the morning; bestir the fore,

And go to the well to fetch fresh water.

Everywhere in Wales - Twelfth Night Custom, Mari Lwyd: the Skeleton of a horse head adorned with 'favours' of pink, blue, yellow etc. Bottoms of two black bottles are inserted in the sockets of the skeleton head to serve as eyes. They carry this object about from house to house, with shouts and songs, and a general cultivation of noise and racket. A duet is sung in Welsh outside a door, the singers begging to be invited in. If the door is not opened the tap on it, and there is frequently quite a series of Awen sung , the parties within denying the outsiders admission and the outsiders urging the same. At last the door is opened, when in bounces the merry crown, among them the Mary Lwyd, borne by one personating a horse, who is led by another personating the groom. The horse chases the girls around the room, capering and neighing, while the groom cries, 'So ho, my boy - gently, poor fellow!' and the girls of course scream with merriment. A dance follows - a reel, performed by three young men, tricked out with ribbons.

Aberconwy in Caernarvonshire: The Penglog (a skull, a noodle) is a similar custom peculiar to Aberconwy, but in this case the horse's skull is an attention particularly bestowed upon prudes.

Pembrokeshire: Cutty Wren is a twelfth night tradition. A wren was placed in a little house of paper, with glass windows, and hoisted on four poles, on at each corner. Four men bore it about, singing a very long ballad:

O! where are you go-ing? says Mil-der to Mel-der, O! where are you go-ing? says the youn-ger to the el-der; O! I can-not tell, says Fes-tel to Fose; We're go-ing to the woods, said John the Red Nose, We're go-ing to the woods, said John the Red Nose!

The purpose of this right is to levy contributions. Another custom was 'tooling' and its purpose was beer. It consisted in calling at farmhouses and pretending to look for one's tools behind the beer cask. 'I've left my saw behind your beer cask.' a carpenter would say; 'my whip', a carter; and received the tool by proxy, in the shape of a cup of ale. The female portion of the poorer sort, on the other hand, practised what was called sowling, asking for 'sowl', and receiving, accordingly, any food eaten with bread, such as cheese, fish, or meat. The custom is still maintained, and 'sowling day' fills many a poor woman's bag. The phrase is supposed to be from the French soul, signifying one's fill.

#wales #welsh polytheism #welsh folklore

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years ago

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Sorry if it seems weird, but...

What's knotting? In... uh, smut fanfictions?

Well, it’s not weird at all! You don’t know something until you learn it! So... get ready to learn weird animal and fanfiction facts!

When animals of the canine family (dogs, wolves...) breed, they have a bulbus glans near the base of the penis that engorges with blood near the end of mating. It inflates and locks the pair together, to increase the odds of pregnancy, and to stop any rivals that may try to have a hand at it, too. In fanfic that glans is called the knot.

Now that you know the basis for it- Knotting became a thing in werewolf fanfic, the whole ting them together, even in human form stuff. It was especially big in slash (m/m) which was too bad because... it’s not my thing, and it was difficult to find (m/f) knotting. People who were into that whole scene with the knotting, the having to stay together for a time, making it mandatory cuddle time, and general emotions and stuff, brought it out of only werewolf fics and into other things. This is also where the A/b/o (omegaverse, alpha/omega) tag came from, and the two are generally connected, but, not always, as some people took just the knotting and left the a/b/o behind. Knotting generally has to do with characters that go into heat, as well (like the skeletons).

So, in (smut) fanfiction, when a character knots another, they are having sex and the base of one’s penis swells, locking them together, as discussed above.

If that doesn’t make sense, or you have more questions, feel free to ask!

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hanahakiverse · 4 years ago

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First Try Cream Short

So yeah, this is my Frist short in... YEARS. It's not good, not at all but I wanna bring down what I have in mind haha, might as well use tumblr for that.

Silence.

This was something Cross never liked, the silence of the Solitude that scarred his Soul a long Time ago. Even now it still scares him, when people don't talk to him- he has to hear their words, he has to get the assurance that everything is alright! They talk of something is wrong.... Right?

He knows that Dream is no one to hide his feelings from Cross anymore, he learned to open himself up just as much as the Ex-Royal Guard did. And now they're sitting here, we'll the Monochrome skeleton is laying on the bed with the Guardian on top of him, golden, beautiful ecto covering the bones.

"i-i didn't expected it to be that... Big" the gentle voice spoke, albeit a bit worried over what Is standing straight between them. A purple member, thick and long with a Proud Knot on the Base. It made Cross more nervous, it's his first time that he summoned a Dick and it is too big? Dream is quite small compared to him, yeah but.... It's too big? "i can make it smaller if-" "NO! This is your size, your... Body... I can't change it, I don't want to change it" Dream interrupted him with those words that made the Member jump with Pride, the light giggle following isn't embarrassing Cross no, but giving him more Courage instead.

"a-alright, take your time Dream" He isn't a patient monster, non of those two are, always headstrong when it comes to their Ambitions and ways and this is how they found and fell in love with each other. Cross wouldn't want to have it any other way, the glare of Determination that sparks in those shining eyelights when Dream has a Goal set, is what he admires the most. Despite everything that happend to his small Lover,he is still standing Strong and going on with the Multiverse and the Trouble that comes around every Corner.

Two small boney hands wrap around the Heated Ecto, it twitches from the attention "nh! Dream~ your hands are so warm" Cross purrs, buckling his Hips into those touching palms. The warmth of the Positive Guardian feels mesmerizing!

"So it's alright?" he can feel the emotions Cross emits like a Streetlight at night, yet he is asking once again "i-i am good, c-could you move your hands... Please- ah!" tipping the Skull back slightly the moan is loud, it feels good, he is so gentle! Completly Different to- No no no its not the time to Think about HIM. he wants to feel good and nothing else, nothing else matters at this moment. Warm hands continue to Stroke the Flesh, testing, experimenting and learning, calculated golden eyelights catching every twitch.

"here... You like that the most" Dream whispers, more to himself than to anyone else as the Thumbs rub under the Glans, hips of his Tall lover twitching once again under a strained moan. This gives the golden Guardian an idea, his hands are bones, it can't feel that good than having a Soft surface pleasuring it!

"I'm going to move, Cross" fast words before he moves, but they make Cross panic for a bit... It felt too good does he wants to stop already?! "D-did I---" "ssh... No you don't, I would like to try something" Slender body moving between the spread legs of the Guard heats up the face of both, he is so vulnerable in this pose but... It feels good to let go. He trusts Dream to let himself fall into this Pleasure of not thinking.

White eyelights watching everything his Breath hitches,golden meets Purple with a Wet Shlick

His tongue! He is using his tongue and it's a Hundred times warmer than the hands and so soft, how soft it is! He can't surpress the Moan leaving his Throat, the Tip dissapearing behind the Teeth into a completly new Place "Oh! D-Dream!"

The giggle of the Guardian vibrates through Cross Member, wet warmth leaving...

"I... Like your taste~ can I have more of it, Cross?"

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vcam1952 · 2 years ago

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Katsukawa Shunsho | The Actors Ichikawa Danjuro V as a Skeleton, Spirit of the Renegade Monk Seigen, 1783 (at Llansanffraid Glan Conwy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjzVbRPD8KY/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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count-demonlord-of-decadence · 6 years ago

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Impromptu: Introduction of Power

We’ve officially moved from The Nameless Theater to a operational dance club called P.H.; which secretly stands for Pheasant Humiliation. The move reduces our cleaning and maintenance cost by 47.3% and features a fully functioning kitchen. The clubs owner is my friend and fellow libertine Risa Kawajiri, though running the club will keep her from attending ‘Impromptu’. But before we reveal the minutes of this event, let us first describe the locale as there won’t be time to describe them later; but by no means shall it distract from our tale.

The exterior of P.H. is in no way unique or distinguished from the other buildings in the area. The interior of the first floor is just as interesting as the exterior, save for the excessive use of valour. Upstairs is the VIP room with more valour and six televisions for viewing various sporting events. It is only through an electronically locked door on the ground floor labeled ‘Staff Only’ (as opposed to employees only) one can access to our setting. Follow me as I have an electronic key card that allows access. Follow me into a dimly lit corridor with a thrice turning, ADA certified ramp to another door also electronically locked which the key card opens. On the other side is another door much like one finds in a modern bank allowing passage to one person at a time. This third door requires a five digit PIN unique to each guest; thus preventing undesirables from entering. I have provided one for you (85491), so come along as we enter…

...A brightly lit club with gold plating, mirrors and reclaimed wood wherever possible, bringing the word gaudy to the mind of most who see it. Assuming we entered through the Southwest door, I shall describe the layout desoil from the aforementioned starting point. Immediately to the right is the men’s lavatory, along the West wall is the bar, followed by the buffet. The kitchen is behind the bar. The Northwest corner is the supply room servicing both the kitchen and the stage. The stage is along the North wall with a DJ booth in the Northeast corner. The East wall is a lounge area with couches and tables with a variety of pipes, bongs and hookahs ready for use. In the southeast corner is the women’s restroom, followed by the other entrance with a unisex lavatory in between the two entrances. Their architecture and style differ in no way from the rest of the club. The dance floor was in the middle.

Now let us turn to the night in question. Ah but gentle reader, I must first take a moment to beg of you to prepare your heart and mind for a telling of an adventure most impure. Many of the actions we shall depict will, undoubtedly, displease you. This we know. But there amongst you a few whom this tale will warm to the point of arousal. We cannot guess who amongst you will fall into which category, all we can do is relay the facts as best we can given the details of this evening. Think it of as a buffet, some dishes you’ll like, some you won’t, but you needn’t eat them all. Take what you like and leave the rest for others to decide for themselves.

And now, with no further delay or warnings, we present the minutes of the event called, ‘Impromptu’.

There are 19 (counting your dear narrator who does have a role in this drama) attendees at Impromptu, the first we must mention of course is the ponytailed assassin from Thursday; we never did learn his name. He is naked and locked bent over in a pillory bolted to the stage; facing the lounge area. His feet kept apart by a metal spreader locked around his ankles and locked to the stage. His mouth is held open by a dentist's gag. The second guest we must mention is Ling-Li Chang, mistress of the Purple Dragon Triad. She was dressed in a sailor suit, gagged and cuffed ankles and wrists to a wheelchair. A head restraint was attached to prevent her from turning her head, and support the wire speculum that held her eyes open. She was positioned as close to the stage as possible but ensured she could see the whole stage.

The 17 others were all to play a game. Each would be given a turn to subject ponytail to whatever their dark imaginations could conceive of; but whoever killed him would have to pay a thousand dollars to every guest who didn’t their turn. They drew numbers to determine the order.

We’ll skip the hour or so they spent treating this as an everyday social event, making small talk, sampling the food, making each other’s drinks and get to the examples of how it wasn’t. With that the first number was called. It was Lucas (no surname), built like a UFC middleweight; he’s a veteran member of The Syndicate who participated in the raid on Ling-Li’s villa. His past is a mystery to all, but one could speculate he was an American with military training. Lucas simply struck ponytail about the face 14 or 16 times with his fists. He clearly didn’t hold back.

Next was a woman, short, nearly 100 kg most of which was muscle. She had short hair and wore blue jeans, a grey t shirt and a red flannel shirt over it. She place a cage on his limp prick and began massaging his anus and testes with sensuous oils to encourage an erection impeded by the cage. All the men winced, hissed and/or groaned at the sight. A discussion of whether or not he was capable of preventing an erection was possible and all agreed; not with the technique our heroine used. There was an applause at the end.

Number three was an obese white MtoF transexual who went by the name Luna Turquoise; easily voted best dressed of the evening. Luna made sweet tender love to ponytail. There was a spirited debate among those on the dance floor as to how cruel this was. Sure he was sexually assaulted but he wasn’t maimed or disfigured. Also planted the thought that this would be the most pleasant thing to happen to him seem the worst torture of all. Others took the position that not removing the penis prison was the worst. Let us finish the minutes and you, dear reader, can determine what was the worst single event he suffered.

A Japanese dominatrix, unanimously voted second best dressed of the evening, though her name escapes me, took her turn next. She gave him 50 strokes with a bull pizzle on the buttocks. Nearly 30 of those strokes landed in between his cheeks. Following was Christof Select, attending his first such party. He was welcomed with gentle teasing and gratitude. He showed no signs of first time jitters as he shoved filthy and salted bamboo shoots under ponytail’s finger and toenails. He sipped a pair of manhattans and sang Norse folk songs the entire time.

Thérése (no surname), sixty-two, hailing from the bowls of France. She looks like a skeleton, has no hair, no teeth, a stinking mouth, and ass seamed with scars, it’s hole is of excessively generous diameter. She forced her fetid ass and cunt on to the subject’s mouth, rubs it all over his face. She produces some of the most foul smelling farts and queefs as she does so. Her orgasam is intense and she shouts blasphamies as it happens.

Amir Kusein, dressed in an Armani tuxedo and hold his fourth dirty snowball (Pour irish cream and peppermint schnapps over ice in a medium rocks or old-fashioned glass. Top with milk, stir, and serve in "Old-Fashioned Glass" and no garnish) had been moping the night because he couldn’t bring his dog. There was a lively discussion among the attendees about animal participation during the preamble. Suffice to say they were excluded, and Amir was disappointed. He satisfied himself while dropping teaspoons of boiling peanut oil onto ponytail’s back and buttocks. He ejaculated into the subject’s left ear.

Cammy Williams, a veteran member of The Syndicate who participated in the raid on Ling-Li’s villa. She wore an Alice in Wonderland (animated) cosplay with bunny ears atop her head. She was standing at the buffet feasting on teriyaki shrimp when her number as called. She dashed to the stage, wasted no time and showcased her MI6 training by dislocating his right shoulder and breaking a rib in one ferocious elbow strike. This produced a scream and a puddle of urine from the subject that brought a cheer from the attendees. She then returned to the buffet. No one else had teriyaki shrimp that night.

Viktor (no surname), a veteran member of The Syndicate who participated in the raid on Ling-Li’s villa; and probably the largest man you’ll ever see. He wore a white gym shirt and green gym shorts that hide nothing. When questioned about his lack of shoes he replied he liked the feel of the filth on his feet. Brandishing the third largest member of the night, he sodomized to the direction of those on the dance floor, letting them control the tempo, depth, strength, etc. of his penetrations. He finished by discharging into the crowd. They were delighted.

The woman that followed is best described as actress Constance Zimmer (though it couldn’t possibly be her) cosplaying as Edea from Final Fantasy 8. Notably, she was controversially voted third best dressed at the event. She firmly planted her shoe heel in the subject’s anus and proceeded to use a megaphone to verbally abuse him with every degrading insult and invective she could shout in the time permitted. She had spent the last 19 hours memorizing them in preparation for this moment. Most took this moment to use the restrooms or hit the buffet; unless they wanted teriyaki shrimp.

A man I only ever heard called, and I do beg your pardon for this, Arse Splitter, is 28 years old. He has the look of a satyr; his majestic prick is bent saber fashion, it’s head, or glans, is enormous, it is eight and three eighths inches in circumference and the shaft eight in length. A fine curve to this majestic prick. Sodomized the subject in a manner true to his name. Many of the ladies attending wished to try him out, but learned his leanings were only for men’s asses.

Nina White, a veteran member of The Syndicate who participated in the raid on Ling-Li’s villa. She was dressed as a playboy bunny and had just been spurned by Arse Splitter when her number was called. She found large chunks of ice and used them to break eight bones in his hands. It matters not which ones or in which order it happened. It is enough to say it took considerable effort on her part, three chunks ice and only ended because her time was said to have expired.

Up next was a man who made his living as a professional Dennis Rodman impersonator, dressed in a Yves Saint Laurent wedding dress and had been very bitchy since he didn’t make the top three for best dressed. One by one he used a straight razor to cut off the subject’s toes and shoves them up his ass with a member that also fails to make the top three of the night. He discharged when the tenth toe came back out.

A squat woman dressed as Pennywise the Dancing Clown from Stephen King’s It (2017) viciously fists the subject and beats him with a one pound plastic weight in a crudely drawn sock puppet. In her, fist, is the remote for her vibrating panties. Her orgasam is so intense, so flfilling, she falls. After she falls out of him, he voids his bowels upon her. She then has a second orgasm more intense and violent than the first. Viktor has to carry her off the stage to the lounge where they fornicate, forever tainting one of the couches.

Next was a muscular 6 foot 3 inch tall, black, MtoF transsexual cosplaying as Juliet from Lollipop Chainsaw. She tries to pull out ten of the subjects teeth with two pair of the filthiest pliers one ever did see, failing to get three. She then holds the subject’s tongue with a pair of the pliers and stabs his tongue with a pair equally filthy screwdrivers, both phillips and flat. when asked she revealed she kept the tools in the bowl of a portable toilet used by the homeless. She doesn’t stay for the orgy that follows these minutes.

The penultimate guest was Heather Camden dressed in a Star Trek TNG engineers uniform, rank Lieutenant Commander. She dumped three table spoons of some caustic powder to his mouth that reacted with the water in his mouth in a very acidic way. It produced some voluptuous gargled screams to which she frigged herself. She howled and appeared in seizure when climaxing. The woman, who’s name I cannot remember though I know she went second, carried Heather off the stage.

Last was me, your narrator gentle reader. I simply stab his six or seven times with an ornate early 18th century German smallsword; taking great care to ensure none of the wounds is fatal. The subject is then freed of his bonds and rushed to a competent emergency room. Our heroes then have an orgy the likes of which I’ll leave to your imaginations based on the information you have now. Though i must confess Viktor, Ms. Pennywise and Thérése had their own private orgy which Ling-Li was made to watch, apart from the main one. When it was over Ling-Li was returned to her corpse decorated villa with the understanding of what happens to those who fuck with The Syndicate.

#Evilcorey's pointless fiction #pointless fiction #fiction

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badsithnocookie · 7 years ago

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Unification (7/?)

Making it behind Imperial lines was not, of course, the challenge - nor was it breaching what passed for their command centre, even if the Empire wasn't letting their territory go without a fight. Not that Eirn expected anything else; not that this made her any happier, especially as Lana was showing far less hesitation to cut down Imperials who got in her way than Eirn. Truthfully, Eirn would have rather kept casualties to a non-existent minimum, but- well, that was her idealism talking, the irritatingly bright-eyed optimism that Anya had infected her with (that she'd always wanted to strive for, deep down, even if it wasn't a yearning that would have won her any admiration among the Sith).

'Your people will all be given medical treatment. Cooperate,' Eirn started, not expecting it in the slightest, 'And I will make sure you all get home. You have my word on this. Now, where is the Empress-?'

There weren't many here, in truth - a skeleton crew, and for a moment, Eirn wondered if there was some misdirection going on. Of course, it was probable that most had been called out to the front lines, but her paranoia was a beast that was never truly sated. Quinn was conspicuously absent, too; a fact that gnawed at her, and she tried to tell herself that these things were likely unrelated.

'You'll get nothing from me,' the commander - a Captain, by his insignia, though he looked older than M- Quinn, and probably resented him for it, 'Traitorous scum-'

In a calmer situation, Eirn might have admired his courage, levelling a pistol at two armed Sith as he did - but as it was, she had neither the time nor inclination to play games and, before Lana could involve herself, pulled the man's pistol from his hand with the Force - crushing it, after a moment, before tossing it to one side, along with the other weapons they'd pulled from his underlings.

'I'll ask again,' Eirn repeated, keeping her tone as even as she could. Sith fury was one thing, but there was little as terrifying as a Sith who had not yet resorted to it, 'Only once. Where is the Empress?'

('Eirn, Lana, you there? We've got a problem-'

It was Koth - one of the few people in the Alliance who did Eirn the favour of addressing her by name. He also had the worst timing in the Alliance - if not the entire galaxy, though Eirn had resolved not to hold him to blame for things frequently far beyond his control.

'Koth,' Lana sighed, 'We don't have time-')

'I've got nothing to say to you,' the Captain retorted, sneering at Eirn with something rapidly approaching disdain. 'Lieutenant,' he started to add, 'We will not be surrendering to these-'

('We're picking up power spikes all round your location. Something's powering up down there. Something big.'

The weapon. And they still didn't know where it was - or how to shut the thing down. Fucking fantastic.

'Noted,' Lana replied, sharply. 'No other changes?')

His Lieutenant, though - a tall, slightly nervous woman with her share of cybernetics - just glanced between him and Eirn (who was long out of patience with this world), before setting her face in grim determination, and-

'Empress's lab is down that hallway,' she replied, jerking one arm to indicate one of the hallways that lead off the command centre. 'Second door on the left. Just- please, my lord- we're all just doing our jobs. None of us wants to get shipped off to the Pubs. No offence,' she finished, glancing at Dorne - or, at the very least, at Dorne's Republic armour.

-did the one thing that Eirn had definitely not been expecting.

'I'll do my best,' Eirn replied - promised, and hoped she could keep that promise. 'Thank you, Lieutenant.'

('Lieutenant!' Her Captain, of course, did not take this well - rounding on her, and only stopped from moving further by the fact that Lana still had her saber lit and levelled at the lot of them.

'Lord Illte got our Tom off Ziost, sir. If she says this is for the good of the Empire, I believe her.')

('Looks like the dampening field is offline, too. Weapons are all back online, so it's just a matter of time before- no, they just started shooting at each other,' Koth managed, in her earpiece. 'Evasive manoeuvres! Is the Omnicannon good-?'

'Koth! Koth, are you there-?' Lana, of course, was instantly distracted from the mission, though not without good cause - the Gravestone was more than just a flagship, and Koth was- well, more than simply her friend.)

('Lieutenant,' the Captain started, angrily, 'This will mean a disciplinary-'

'If we're alive for it, sir,' she replied, apparently unfazed, 'You can tell the board whatever you want.')

'Viper Squad is almost on our position,' Dorne added - their backup, the Republic special operations team clearing up in their wake. 'We can hold this until they arrive.'

Shadowing them, Eirn hadn't failed to note; likely watching them, watching her, there to ensure that if Eirn did turn on the Republic, that she wouldn't do so without a fight. It wasn't a thought that sat pleasantly, not least because of Dorne's admission that they carried Force suppressants.

'Go,' Lana interrupted, before she could take that thought any further. 'We'll hold this position, and join you as soon as we can.'

Which wasn't ideal - but Eirn knew she wasn't in a position to negotiate - with Lana, with the Empire, with the Force itself - and so she just nodded, before heading deeper into Imperial territory.

Acina's laboratory was not difficult to find - even if Acina herself was difficult to pick out with the Force, not least because of the way the weapon's tech seemed imbued with it in a way that did not set Eirn at ease in the slightest, and which clouded the Force presences of all on its surface. Iokath had always been a strange world; not even a world, technically, though it was difficult to think of somewhere with open skies as any kind of structure. Still, the Force flowed here in the manner of electricity through wiring, or water through irrigation pipes; artificially, conducted in manners that Eirn had to assume were some approximation of precise, or at least once had been, and in a far more clinical, paradoxically modern way than any ancient Sith or Rakatan artefact.

The Empire, from what Eirn was seeing - from what she was guessing, mostly - seemed to have settled on this hack the planet plan long before leaving Kaas, as well, if the Force-imbued wiring bundled through the passageways was any indication. Despite Lana's protests, Acina had come here intending to force the issue, and that was a thought that made Eirn grip her saber harder.

The laboratory, much to Eirn's surprise, was not guarded - and for a moment, she wondered if the helpful Lieutenant had sent her on a wild gizka chase. When the door opened, though, it was to an almost-familiar sight - a storage room, like the one they'd visited with Dorne, with a Throne built against one wall that was clearly of Imperial design and recent construction but modelled rather closely on the one that had contained the remains of the last person to attempt Acina's folly. This throne's inhabitant, though, was still alive - and focused on a control panel set into one of the Throne's arms, an Imperial datapad, from the look of it, repurposed and wired into the system that Acina was attempting to manhandle. She was protected, too, by a forcefield - not a Forcefield, but a thing of mundane energy that would nonetheless fail to be felled by Eirn's lightsaber.

Eirn entering the lab, of course, changed at least some of that - Acina looked up sharply, before immediately scowling. 'Well don't just stand there,' Acina snapped, looking sharply to the lab's other lone inhabitant - her Major, Eirn's Major - who, in turn, abruptly wore an expression not unlike a deer in headlights. Quinn had always managed to rearrange his expressions promptly, of course, and it was gone as quickly as it was there, but the abrupt, surprised terror didn't fade nearly as quickly from his aura.

There they were - there she was, faced with the one person that she wanted to fight with the least on this cursed sphere. He seemed to be as thrilled by this as she was, though it was little comfort - especially given the way his gaze kept flickering to his blaster (currently placed to one side, on the control panel he'd been monitoring) as though he was thinking about actually attempting to use it.

'Major Quinn,' Eirn started - not even sure where she was going to go with this, but she wasn't about to let this encounter be directed by someone else. 'I have no quarrel with you. But I can't let Acina do this.'

'My lord,' Quinn started, speaking up - standing, pulling himself into as confident a position as he could muster. It wasn't a convincing confidence - his fear radiated through the Force, and Eirn wondered which one of them, exactly, he was attempting to lie to. 'This has gone far enough. You are a traitor to the Empire, and I am asking you to stand down. Surrender peacefully, and you will be treated fairly.'

Words that had been spoken to her before, though not by him, and for a moment, her memories of the Empire's version of fair snarled unpleasantly. She extinguished her saber, though, clipping it to her belt - and, after a moment, unclipped her helmet's faceplate, too. If nothing else, it felt good to feel air on her skin - her helmet had been becoming the worst kind of claustrophobic, and being able to breathe always made life so much easier.

(More than that, though, it humanised her; made a person, with a face, and not a nameless, monstrous Sith. Not the Wrath, nor the Outlander, but- Eirnhaya Illte-Quinn, Darth Meliora, scarred and mortal and her)

'Malavai,' she started - looking right at him, grabbing his attention with his name, and refusing to let it go - 'Please. You know me. I have only ever acted for the best interests of the Empire. And right now, that means stopping this war before it gets started. Lower. The forcefield. Please.'

He just looked at her, though - glanced over her, his eyes darting over her armour - assessing it, assessing her. It was not the stiff, almost-ceremonial armour she'd been wearing on Darth Marr's vessel, all those years ago, but the same gear she'd had on Voss - and on Kaas, for that matter, battle-worn and battle-proven, scarred by each of Vitiate's living children but paradoxically stronger, for it. It wasn't Sith, though, but one of the Alliance's own design and manufacture, as much an attempt to distance herself from the Empire and all it produced as it was a practical piece of gear. If nothing else, Eirn knew the importance of costume - of the messages it sent, the meanings it held, and- well, for Sith, the whole galaxy was expected to be their stage.

'You lower that forcefield, Major,' Acina spat, safe for now on her fabricated throne, 'And I'll make you wish I'd left you where I found you.'

'Malavai,' Eirn repeated, ignoring her - attempting to ignore her, and not entirely succeeding, 'Please, listen to me. What- the Empress is doing, right now, it's been tried before. But it didn't work. Iokath's own creators died because the weapon fired indiscriminately. If that happens again- everyone here will die, and the Empire will have a war on its hands it can't afford-'

'I have total control,' Acina hissed - still tapping frantically at the control panel, though, a nervous terror propelling her movements that put lie to that statement. 'And as for you, Wrath,' she added - the venom in her tone twisting up into something else entirely, at Eirn's ancient, hated, title, 'When I am finished with you, you'll wish we'd executed you for Ziost.'

The theatrical threats of Sith were nothing new, though hearing them from Acina was - and to hear such a promise made by one who had courted more than simple attention, once, made Eirn wince unpleasantly. Not just the words, but the venom with which they were spoken; this was not the verbal sparring of rival Sith, but the hatred that all acolytes were taught to nurture following an inevitable betrayal.

A for-real traitor, Illte. Only one of you is walking away from this.

She was saved from having to respond by an alarm blaring - a local one, contained to the control panel that Quinn was standing watch over, and which grabbed his attention from the rest of the room quite entirely.

'Empress,' Quinn started, a note of concern in his voice, 'Synchronisation rate is rapidly decreasing-'

'Then get rid of Illte,' Acina hissed, through clenched teeth, 'So I can focus-'

'Stop this, Acina,' Eirn interrupted, ignoring that remark. 'Whoever wanted you here- fed you- bad intel from the beginning,' she started - grabbing at that piece of information, determined to make some use of it. 'There's no way for you to succeed-'

'And how would you know, Wrath,' Acina growled, baring her teeth, 'Unless you were the one to sabotage us-?'

'Empress,' Quinn repeated, far more urgently, 'I am reading massive power buildup in the ancillary stations. The system can't handle this-'

'Malavai,' Eirn repeated, switching her attempts back to him, 'Lower the forcefield. Please. Let me get her out of there.'

He was looking right at Eirn, in turn, forcing himself to, his eyes constantly darting away before he forced them back to hers. They seemed- he seemed, stubborn and defiant and- afraid, though Eirn found it impossible to fathom out what of. Her? Acina? The Republic? All valid things to be afraid of, in that moment - Eirn was just as terrified, of all of them, in varying quantities - but most of all, right in that moment, it was dying - pointlessly, and stupidly, and utterly needlessly.

That alarm sounding again snapped her out of it, though - shattered the moment, snapping the both of them out of whatever reverie they'd been in and prompting Quinn to immediately start tapping at his own panel. For an awful moment, Eirn was convinced that he was continuing to ignore her, that he was still going along with Acina's mad scheme - and then he wasn't, the forcefield was down and Eirn, seeing her chance, seized it with both hands.

'Acina,' Eirn started - taking the first steps past the boundary, towards her - saber out, but not yet lit. 'This is your final chance. Stop this, before it's too late.'

Acina, though, was barely paying her attention - had abruptly ceased her tapping at the control panel, and was staring off into some unseen distance.

'I see it,' she whispered - her gaze distant and her focus elsewhere. 'It's- so beautiful...'

All Eirn saw, though, was the Empress, staring off into some middle distance as the Force pulsed through and round her, flowing from the Throne, from Iokath itself, stronger than it had before - strong enough that Acina's own aura was drowned out, strong enough that for a moment, all Eirn could feel was the artificial heartbeat of this hollow world.

'Dammit, Acina,' Eirn muttered, pushing forward - closing the space between her and the Sith Empress, half expecting Acina to finally stand or push back and half grateful she wasn't and half slowly realising that something else here was already very wrong. It was far too late to do anything about it, though, except the half-baked plan she'd already committed to. At the very least, removing Acina from the Throne would break whatever connection she had to Iokath, which was why Eirn reached out for the Empress - grabbing her by her robes and yanking her away from her counterfeit control throne, the same way Senya had once abruptly yanked her from Zakuul's throne, severing Vitiate's grasp on his once-fleet (and like the fleet, Eirn reasoned, with no input, the weapon would power down and they could have a sensible discussion, like the adults they were-)

-but the Force, as always, had other ideas.

#swtor #war for iokath #sith warrior #ficlet: unification #my writing #outlander!eirn #empress acina #malavai quinn

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you-had-me-at-e-flat-major · 7 years ago

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i'm in my medschool's boy choir and we were asked to sing at the hippocrates oath event for new graduates and there's this song named Hellige Flamme in our repertoire this year and istg the lyrics are a lowkey shitpost for skeleton war? "Hellige Flamme, Styrk i din Glans, Alle som kæmpe for Musernes Krands!"

love it

#anon

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itunesbooks · 6 years ago

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Human Anatomy and Physiology Study Guide - MobileReference

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universeinksans · 8 years ago

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Suivez-moi sur Wattpad ! Nom d'utilisateur : universeinksans http://my.w.tt/UiNb/gqQIoWjvrD A little story FanFic' with @b3rk3rt-the-mole !! Go Read it!! We need support for it! 😁💘 You can of course Follow Us 😘 Thanks!

#high school #undertale sans #undertale #sans the skeleton #classic sans #fan fiction #ink sans #error!sans #geno sans #fire #water #Wind #earth #Glans the skeleton #Shad

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dawnlindse-blog · 8 years ago

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Human Anatomy and Physiology Study Guide - MobileReference | Study Aids |370187932

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phylliscru-blog · 7 years ago

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Human Anatomy and Physiology Study Guide - MobileReference | Study Aids |370187932

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rubywilll-blog · 7 years ago

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Human Anatomy and Physiology Study Guide - MobileReference | Study Aids |370187932

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annerodr-blog · 7 years ago

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Human Anatomy and Physiology Study Guide - MobileReference | Study Aids |370187932

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