#i find it disgusting

[naehilisms]

something something three high guardsmen and a mentally unwell emo kid walk into an abandoned energon depot

inspired by this and this

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[tapenbreak]

reverse somnophilia with kylar—as in through the depths of the twinkling night, they can’t help their creaking footsteps from making its way to your thoroughly sleeping form, restless slip their way through an opened window you’ve oh, so thoughtlessly left opened like the forgetful boy that you can be.

but, doesn’t that explain enough on it’s own? that being, an unspoken invitation left by yours truly for him to eventually sneak his way towards your snoozing self—merely unperturbed by the way his quivering figure hovers above your own. prettily dozing away for him to do as he so pleases and that is, to settle himself underneath the woollen covers as well, as though this is where he irrefutably belongs so. him, your curled up form that remains blissfully aware of a foreign presence intimately pressed against your own. . . ah, there it is—found it.

for you see, he’s inadvertently uncovered an unknown secret of yours during one of his numerous trespassing trips of laying upon your single bed, too. one which you’re sorely left unaware of, judging by the way you hadn’t taken proper measures of not purely sleeping in your mere underwear. the sudden grasp of your welcoming arms finding themselves encircled around the width of his rather. . . skinny waist, singular leg hooked upon his hip like it’s the most natural thing to do, as per expected—you cutely cuddle the nearest thing within your reach, in your sleep, but not only that either. simultaneously humping along the familiar curvature of his backside, dribbling cock neatly resting between his asscheeks.

and funnily enough, he doesn’t make the slightest movement so as to potentially startle you. gleefully lets himself be used so, as your unsuspecting stress toy in your slumbering wake. since you certainly need the resulting relief, don’t you? or so, his deluded self has properly convinced himself of such—that he’s surely helping, is all! rubbing along the straining bulge of your leaking cock head firmly pressed against the stretchy material, subconsciously squeezing his squishy thighs to further aid the eventual release, which you seek yourself.

no, no—he really can’t help the stifled whimpers that spills past bitten lips meant to be silenced. cranes his neck partially to the side to witness your utterly adorable expression you’re presently wearing while you’re practically fucking someone’s clothed behind. hitched breath faltering and uncaring for the possible name that may slip out as you’re doing this. solely concentrated on delightfully drinking in the deepening furrow of your brows, flutter of your curled lashes and quivering of your glistening lip. further coaxing you into finishing for your rewarded efforts of crudely grinding yourself against a willing kylar, and finish—you do. rumpled sheets laid askew in the desolate room itself, sticky seed spattering amongst the mattress’s extended space, but more importantly. . . covering the surface of his shorts like a candid trophy meant to be flaunted, which he won’t as this is meant to be only his to witness.

so maybe, the loner breathlessly lays there for a couple more minutes to savour the feel of your body nicely close to his—despite being unconscious of such. steals a glimpse downwards to where his cute, little cock lays untouched and pressed against the inward part of his thigh. doesn’t let himself chase any sort of release either because, in the most pervasive of ways, he finds it hotter that you’ve involuntarily neglected him of such an orgasm. let him silently leave once he’s done his part of satisfying your sleeping form underneath various blankets as though he was never was here, to begin with.

and maybe too, do you awaken in the morning with a noticeably apparent flush to stain the fullness of your cheeks. inwardly cursing at having another salacious, wet dream to be the barren cause as to why your briefs are now stupidly painted shear in your translucent cum. jolting upwards at robin’s curious head peering to the side from your door left ajar while claiming it’s nothing—you’ll be the one to clean this filthy mess and slip on your school uniform on time.

unbeknownst to the fact that the dark headed boy adds another stained shorts of his to his growing collection, disgustingly admires the sheen of your fat load now adorning the fabric of his clothes. sometimes wears them as though they’re a part of himself, too.

perhaps, he’ll make due to consequentially have your pulsating cock catch on the rim of his puffy hole next time and then, hold your dripping seed in his ass to school.

yeah, maybe. that’s an idea.

[allo-frouto]

Piss Play?

Please no.

[housederiva]

Bee wake up, Greg Ellis got arrested for revenge porn

What a horrid and pathetic man... if anyone else forgot who this was (like I did) this was Cullen's voice actor

[methoughtsphantom]

halfas are the found family trope foster child

they all adopt each other. it’s the reason Vlad wanted so badly to have Danny as his son and the reason Danny immediately went with sure you’re my cousin now with Dani. it’s a survival mechanism from being so very few of their species. Sooo, halfa!Jason except he sorta isn’t yet cause Jason’s core is extremely ruptured from the lack of ectoplasm involved in his forceful resurrection. So when Danny finds Jason in his catatonic state he can’t quite tell the dude’s been dead and remains some, just that the guy for some reason seems very friend-shaped. Danny doesn’t mind his friend is braindead, and is also a john doe, he gives familiar vibes and that’s apparently enough for Danny to constantly find himself in the hospital doing his engineering homework on the room with the guy, and talking for hours about the updates on the absolute clusterfuck of the city and how he was from a freaking ghost town and he can almost even draw comparisons. he blabbers about how he’s not homesick enough times to even corner himself to talk about a ghost lore many times and how he’s just finding himself a little more prone to violence and in constant pain since none of the people he has adopted as his family are here with him and he can’t consider a place a lair if there’s isn’t someone of his in it.

But Danny could never drag someone with him just because of some it, after all it was Danny’s choice to come to Gotham to collage and not stay where at least his parents (good parents Jack and Maddie) were in Amity.

Ironically, Danny essentially can’t feel that his core has been spoon feeding ectoplasm to Jason. As months go on, the little ball of energy builds in anticipation practically vibrating in the waiting pulse of something (Danny doesn’t know but more often than not has he found himself laughing in happy confusion. it weirds him out in a good way) It’s really that he’s feeling the slow healing process of his friend (brother brother brother) ‘s core.Imagine it’s just about to properly, correctly heal when canon strikes back and Jason gets snatched by League assassins. Danny is left feeling like his core got torned out. His core had spend months helping another’s only to feel the other’s imprint and to not be able to protect it in return is— forget it being an obsession; thats like having your newborn baby being ripped out of your arms. An all assuaging feeling of helplessness that is devastating. Danny just beginning to feel like home lair when out of nowhere the rug is swept under him. Danny suddenly struggling to not flunk all his classes and beat every single liminal that he can feel crossing paths with him to the ground. Danny suddenly having his chronic pain (that hadn’t been so bad lately) dialed up to the point that there are just bearable and bad days.

The worse thing is he doesn’t know why.

Jason had only been a guy.

…

It’s only a three weeks before Jazz tells him she accepted a job offer in Gotham.

(and the guilt only makes him feel worse when he can feel himself feel better because of it)

…

now

whimsical time skip ✨

Danny is now on his feet again and friends with a Wayne of your choice (or maybe they were friends a little before Jay dissapeared and it was badTM cause Waynes? liminal 🥲) Danny definitely didn’t enjoy snapping off to his friend like that. anyways it’s been a year since that and he and his friend are having a grand time playing civvies, uhh let’s say dick because I want them to meet while ice skating, Also Dick because he definitely turns a blind eye when Danny goes airborne for a second there yep. He’s just having too much fun.

anyways as alwaysTM Danny doesn’t clock celebrities and like why would he, Dick is just the random guy who’s was fast to turn Danny’s slow day in the ice ring into a competition one day and brighten when Danny matched up his puns. So he totally doesn’t get why the guy’s so gloomy one day, anyways as you can figure, it’s Jason’s deathday and Dick is a deprecating bean, Danny tries to cheer him up by having him remember his brother instead and Dick attempts to, but even skipping through some photos in his phone make his eyes burn.

It is because of that that he doesn’t notice Danny absolutely freeze up at the photo of his friend Jay (Jay because he’s a John Doe, but that’s just too impersonal and so the first letter is J *wink wink*)

Danny absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this information, barely catches himself from asking Dick how did his brother die. Most importantly when because Danny just saw Jay—Jason less than a year ago, and this somehow doesn’t feel too recent.

Annd that how we find Danny digging into the Wayne second son tragedy. Staring at the date of death while the knowledge that they met almost six months after burns his forefront of his mind. Danny spends a day going over all the questions running through his mind over how the fuck he couldn’t sense Jay was a ghost—err was… in past tense?? what the fuck?? Danny would really like a refund on his ghost sense.

Anyways Danny goes check out the grave (now that he knows there is one) and boom although intangible he somehow triggers those shitty ass sensors/alarms that somehow didn’t go off when jason was literally digging himself out.

Obviously the bats get in the case immediately. And boy are they absolutely enraged that someone would steal Jason’s body.

[archivewriter1ont]

Bountyhunter: Everyone stopped shooting...I’m going to check it out.

Echo: (handcuffed to a chair) I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

Bountyhunter: Why?

Echo: I’m pretty sure there’s a mean, scary monster on the other side of that door.

Bountyhunter: *scoff* Whatever. *opens door*

Hunter: *charges in snarling, knives drawn*

Bountyhunter: *screams*

Echo: Told you. ☺️

Part Two of "Echo Gets Kidnapped" | Part One

[meltedmush]

Keep making the Binghorse. We gotta ward off people from entering this fandom. We need to keep it pure. I fr don't want this fandom to become famous. I'm scared that there will be toxic fans left and right.

HAHA I absolutely understand the sentiment. I feel a bit contradictory since I want more people to appreciate SVSSS, but the at the same time I like small tight knit communities and I personally can’t handle large fandoms whatsoever. 😭

Although I do feel as though describing the SVSSS as pure is very funny for how lawless this fandom is. But behavior wise, it is definitely a very positive and supportive space!! I haven’t met anyone or seen anything unpleasant since I’ve entered the fandom. Albeit, it’s only been a few months since I’ve started interacting with the fandom, and over half a year since I first read SVSSS, so I have no clue what horror stories the SVSSS fandom has. (I honestly haven’t interacted with that many SVSSS fans tbh…. Even though I want to.)

In addition, funny enough, I feel as though the book almost acts as its own barrier of entry. SVSSS isn’t the type of book you can read once unless you’re good at reading against the grain and noticing all the nuances and subtext. I know the first time I read SVSSS, SVSSS disturbed and confused me so badly. I talked to a few other people who read SVSSS once, who said that LBH and SQQ’s relationship felt like Stockholm syndrome. But people who’ve read SVSSS several times will know, that is not the case, and that SQQ is an INSANELY UNRELIABLE narrator.

I honestly find it funny how effective Binghorse or all the other skin creatures is at filtering toxic fans.😂

There’s always a general reaction to the skin creatures: “Omg, cute!!”, “wtf, but I like it”, “wtf”. Or getting blocked, or death threats. (I haven’t received any…? I don’t think…? One message I received is definitely debatable since I can’t tell if it’s sarcastic or not….😭)

But regardless, I’ll definitely keep drawing Binghorse!!! It’s actually really enjoyable!

[pewpop]

this looked better in my head :<

bloody version under the cut

edit: guess who misspelled something.....

[sakasakiii]

some firstborn sons to start the new year two weeks after it began ✨

apologies for disappearing again,, this makes it the 4th? 5th time i've disappeared?? WILD. things have been busybusybusy but i've gotten some prior things all settled so hopefully i can get back into drawing and checking out things.... and answering asks!!!!!

obligatory extra as per tradition bc i always forget about the secondborns who arent maglor (im looking at YOU, orodreth's dad):

[stil-lindigo]

if, like me, your tumblr feed has suddenly become infested with trash like this, just remember you can report ads in a matter of a few clicks by clicking the 3 dots at the side ❤️

[bottledkriegmen]

shout out to this specific image of andre

[zehl0w]

Zenitsu agatsuma has got to be the biggest egg I have ever seen in my entire life

[cheesebrackers]

[kingkatsuki]

Anyway, while I was gone I was thinking of this stupid idea with Bakugou (as usual)

Imagine your eighteenth birthday is when you find out who you’re bonded to, and this bond is created via telepathy. A connection opens between two souls, and you’re able to communicate with each other no matter where in the world you are. A connection that only becomes stronger as your relationship with your soulmate grows.

But of course, connections can be broken. The same way those dreamlike fantasies of meeting your perfect soulmate don’t always work— especially when your soulmate is Bakugou Katsuki.

The first time you try to communicate with him, he brushes you off. Telling you to “piss off”, that he doesn’t “need a fuckin’ soulmate”. It’s a time in his life that arguably he needs that connection with someone more than ever. But the feelings of inadequacy and inferiority he holds inside are at an all time high as he pushes everyone away, including you. Shutting the door on any hope you had of ever having a connection with him, of finding your soulmate.

You try again a few times after, watching all your friends develop their love and even meet their soulmates. Hating the green-eyed monster that appears when you realise how bitter you actually are— to be paired with someone that has no interest in you. Cursed to be one of the ones without a soulmate, to try and find a love with another broken person like you.

The conversations are always the same— his irritation for your very existence no match for the conversations you try to start. Making it abundantly clear to you that you’re a distraction, that he doesn’t have time for a soulmate. And yet amongst his complaining that you’ve opened the link at a bad moment, or that he doesn’t need you— he always answers.

So over time you find yourself starting to give up, wondering why you’ve wasted so much time on a man that clearly doesn’t want you. The connection going quiet as neither of you try to open the link.

Radio silence.

And what makes it worse, is your friends who have perfect connections pity you. One of the lost souls without a soulmate— which is why you’re prepared to join a special program. A program that can realign your connection— to tie your soul to another.

It’s unorthodox, an extreme measure that has an endless list of side-effects. You could end up with the more undesirable members of society, who’s connections have been severed before, or the ones that abuse the system for their own benefit— and if the second connection doesn’t work out you’re unable to claim a third. But craving that special bond with someone, picturing the perfect smiles and pickett fences it’s more than worth the risks. So you plan to do it— to sever your connection with your soulmate, and find a new one.

Someone who will actually love you.

But it isn’t until one night that you hear something at the back of your mind, barely a murmur as you shoot up in bed. Squinting as you try desperately to focus on the sound— another whimper. But you can’t seem to make out much else, as you realise that it’s the same connection that you thought was completely shattered all those years ago.

“Hello?” You feel almost stupid calling out, wondering if he even realised that you could hear him again— that you were there.

“Long time no talk, hah sweetheart?” He scoffs, a choked cough spills from his lips after as he winces in pain.

“You sound like shit— is that why you reconnected our bond at four am?”

“Must’ve called the wrong number, sweetheart.” He sneers, but you can almost hear the humour in his tone.

“Well luckily for you I’m going to break our bond.” You bite back as you’re met with silence on the other end, “So you won’t have to make the same mistake again.”

“You can do that?” He whispers.

“Yeah, they can reconnect me with someone else.” You murmur.

“They won’t be as good as me.” He manages to get out before another cough wracks through his body.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” You scrunch your nose in irritation, “But at least they’ll want me.”

“Who said I don’t want you?”

It’s not until a month later that you find out the real reason he reconnected the bond that night. That it was the night that his heart stopped beating as he almost lost his life, his body shutting down as the only thing he could think to do was to call out for you.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Angband falls. Beleriand sinks. And Maglor’s wandering when comes across an emaciated hand on the sea shore. Now, it’s not uncommon to see bodies and limbs especially with the mass death of so many orcs and elves killed in the War of Wrath.

But this one he recognises.

The ring bearing the star of the Crown Prince turned King, at the time only recently given by a dying father to his eldest son. The misshapen gold from a young nephew learning his craft, worn with pride even in the darkness of Beleriand. Favoured gemstones embedded in a more elegant ring given by a younger brother as a gift for reaching the highest level of scholarship.

But he wouldn’t need any of that. Not really. Because even scarred and bloodied and shrivelled as it is, Maglor recognises the hand of his eldest brother, left in an iron shackle on the heights of Thangorrodrim.

A hand taken trophy by a Vala and enchanted never to decay. A prize with a place of honour in Morgoth’s Iron Hell.

A hand that’s all Maglor has left of his older brother.

Cradling the slowly decaying flesh, Maglor slowly works at pulling off the iron cuff, careful not to damage Nelyo’s hand any further. It takes days. Weeks. But he refuses to make another mark on it. When it finally comes off, he tosses the cursed object to the depths of the sea, and for the first time, leaves the shore.

Ulmo watches as the Singer makes his way inland, single minded focus driving him away from his lamentation. Maglor walks and walks, weeks, months, all the while carefully protecting the last piece of his brother. The Vala of the Oceans isn’t the only one watching as he stumbles and falls and fights what orcs remain with terrifying fervour until he at last reaches what he’s looking for.

A fiery chasm. One of few left in an almost sunken Beleriand. Just big enough to do what’s needed.

Kneeling at the edge, he holds the hand to his chest, and for a moment it’s like Nelyo is there with him, promising it will be ok. It’s all the courage he needs.

When Maglor falls, he doesn’t feel fear. Pain. Grief. Or even the fire.

Only his brother welcoming him home.