#its otterly terrible

[ghouldtime]

I need König to know that there are 6ft tall otters. I need him to know that

That's one of the few other facts he's getting to know

I mean - hard to deny it when they're right there 🦦 fun fact: echnically they're not that tall! Not even when they stand on their hind legs, that's their head to tail length so that's including that part! Not just them standing

They're still huge but a bit shorter than people think when they hear that. And they're certainly a lot bigger than the otters you might see at zoos or wildlife centers because they need a LOT of room

There's so many variations of so many animals it's insane

(Also the other otter facts are REALLY not so fun (otters can be SUPER mean and have a laundry list next to dolphins of terrible things they do) so we're just keeping the happy mental image intact and not telling him that. I'm doing him that solid because I sure wish I didn't know)

[misscarolineshelby]

Yes, Mr Murphy!

31 Days of Kink: Day 17

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, Teacher/Student

Requested: Yes!

Words: 758

Notes: Alright, my readers obviously cannot get enough of professor Murphy, so here is more for all you naughty minxes!

Imagine having Cillian Murphy as your drama teacher at university. For weeks now, you have been trying to pursue him and, finally he gave into your needs and, within no time, you found yourself bent over the large oak desk inside his office with his fingers buried deep inside of your wet folds.

***

‘That’s a good girl, now hold nice and still, alright?’ Cillian whispered, causing you to inhale sharply, nervous and excited at the same time.

You nodded as you found those intrusive fingers moving around, sliding out, then spreading, forcing your lips apart. Then, something came sliding between them, pressing into your exposed flesh, pushing deeper into you.

You went dead still as you found Cillian’s cock sliding slowly home, driving slowly but surely into your depths, filling your passage, encouraging it to stretch and accept him, then pushing even deeper.

You stayed there, bent over the desk, frozen still, not able to believe that this was happening.

Cillian was your teacher and, whilst you had been fantasising about him for weeks, you never thought that he would actually agree to take it that far.

‘Oh’ you moaned as Cillian’s hard cock was pushing into you, not in a hurry, but certainly making its way deep inside you.

It was a gentle sweetness that was devouring your will-power, leaving you helpless before its insistent coaxing demand. Your head told you that this was wrong but yet your body wanted it so badly. You felt his groin pressing against your mound, his pubic hairs rubbing against your lips, lips sensitive enough at that moment to feel each and every individual hair brushing against you.

He only stayed fully inside you for a moment, a moment that seemed to last for ages, and then he was pulling out. You were almost sorry to feel him leaving.

You gave a startled little cry when he stopped and started returning. His cock came sliding back down your passage, igniting little fires within you as it came.

Your blood was hot honey flowing through you, warming you, bemusing you, your thoughts jumbled by the way Cillian was using you.

He was most certainly fucking you and you found lifting your hips and pressing back against him, taking him deep and wanting him deeper.

Cillian had settled down to a nice slow rhythm, going in gently but deeply, his very gentleness confusing you.

‘Now tell me again Y/N, why have you been late to class every morning?’ Cillian grunted but you couldn't respond. In fact, you couldn’t even think. How were you supposed to concentrate with a cock pushing into you all the time?

‘Oh’ you moaned again as you tried to open your mouth to speak. But all you could do was groan as delicious lightning swept through your groin.

By this point, you were pushing yourself firmly against his cock as it came sliding into you. A terrible sweetness was filling you, hot honey flowing through your veins, making you lose sense of all that was right or wrong. Feeling like this could only be right, you just knew it.

‘Don’t be late again’ he eventually groaned and you were half expecting Cillian to speed up a little, putting more energy into his action. You didn't know how to feel when he didn't, just continuing to thrust into you in the same smooth fashion, slowly but surely driving you out of your mind.

‘Yes Mr Murphy’ you whined as Cillian continued to thrust in and out of you.

‘Good’ Cillian responded just as you gave a small cry when, suddenly, your climax swept over you, your passage clamping down on Cillian’s cock.

That was all it took to push Cillian over the edge and you could feel his cock throbbing and jerking as it expended itself inside you, before, all of a sudden, he pulled out of you and forced you onto your knees right in front of him.

‘Open your mouth’ he said and you immediately complied with his request, opening widely and allowing him to fill your mouth with his warm and sweet cum.

‘Now be a good girl and swallow’ he then instructed and, after you showed him your cum filled mouth, you swallowed it all with a delicious grin on your face.

‘Thank you, Mr Murphy’ you smirked up at him seductively while he zipped up his pants.

‘Tomorrow, same time?’ he asked, helping you up as he did.

‘Yes Mr Murphy!’ you responded eagerly.

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo​ @vhscillian​ @ysmmsy​ @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  ​

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week Level 2, Day Three: Folklore | Memory

For the folklore prompt, a yokai AU.  For the memory prompt...  Well, let’s just say that this is probably not going to make much sense if you haven’t seen Sarazanmai.

Spinner dies, but he doesn’t.  He’s empty, but he isn’t. He wants to connect, but he mustn’t.

(With apologies to Sakaki Deidoro, who probably didn’t deserve to be turned into a kappa zombie anymore than the ones in the show did.)

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

“Sure I know him,” the man in the bird mask slurs, leaning back from them with a loose shrug.  “Think there’d be a guy in this uniform who doesn’t?”  

The air stinks of booze; there’s an open bottle in the man’s hand as he lifts it, a pointing finger drawing figure eights in the air, wobbling between Shigaraki and Spinner.  Spinner to Shigaraki, back and forth, Shigaraki to Spinner.  An invisible line of connection.

“Who’s askin’, that’s the real question.”  The man giggles, then hiccups at the end of it.

Spinner can’t feel it much in this form, but you don’t get involved in the sorts of things this would-be tengu is involved in if there isn’t something you want, or someone you love. He doesn’t even need to glance at Shigaraki to know this is their next target.

“No beginning, no ending, no connection,” he pronounces.

“We’ll open a door,” Shigaraki echoes, and sluggish alarm registers in bird-mask’s slackening mouth as Spinner pulls out the gun.

“Is it desire?” Shigaraki asks.  Around them, the humming of the machines changes pitch.  Bird-mask glances around wildly, hearing them for the first time.

“Or is it love?” Spinner asks, the word tasting like the flesh of an overripe plum on his tongue, cloying, too sweet.

“Let’s extract it and find out.”

The lights from the extraction chamber rise—focus—flash.

The sound of drumming drowns out the gunshot.

-

“How was it?” Toga asks, floating down from above to coil her arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders when they make it back to the hideout.

Shigaraki huffs.  “Just another one for the machine, same as always.”

“Usso…” The pout is audible in her voice.  Then she looks back over her shoulder at Spinner, her eyes glowing yellow as Shigaraki walks them both into the shadows. White fangs flash in her grin.  “Did you have fun today?”

He can’t not hear a mocking edge.  He tells himself it’s just how otters are, even their criminals.

“Like Shigaraki said,” he grunts.  “It was the same as always.”

She sighs, wistful as a fading flower.  “I’m sure we’ll find a lover someday.  Maybe that one’s boss?  Oh, I’m sure he’ll be otterly delicious.”

Shigaraki just snorts again, and in Spinner’s chest, his hollow heart aches.  Again.

-

“I’ve never met a kappa with such an empty heart,” the otter in the white lab coat says the first time Spinner wakes up on his table.  “How otterly fascinating.”

Spinner looks up at him, vaguely surprised that he survived the fall of the kingdom, but somehow not at all surprised that, having survived, his luck has landed him here.

“I am Chief Science Otticer Ujiko,” the otter introduces himself, and extends one fat paw towards him. “And I think there’s someone you should meet.  Someone who can help you understand.”

“Understand what?” Spinner whispers.  The lights above him are so bright, electric white and so much colder than any lamp or lantern from home.

“That those connections you kappa prize so dearly—are poison.  Usso…”

-

Shigaraki plays video games when they’re not out hunting for desire energy.  He’s unreasonably good at them, hands flying over controllers he never does more than glance at, instead staring fixedly at the TV screen.  He doesn’t seem to care what it reflects back at him, as long there’s some goal he can point his avatar at instead.  Preferably a bloody one.

Before the empire found him, Spinner had never touched a video game—or, really, much of any kind of human tech.  A stray talking children’s toy lost in the tall grass of a riverbank.  A drowned radio carried downstream by the currents until it wedged up against a rock in the riverbed and sat there leaking acrid mercury from its battery compartment into the water around it.

Shigaraki doesn’t comment when he comes back from an appointment with Ujiko and finds Spinner fumbling through an early level on one of his games, though the sound of the door opening startles Spinner badly enough to send the character onscreen careening into a bottomless pit.

Instead, he just takes the controller out of Spinner’s hands, navigates the jump for him when the character regenerates, and hands the controller back.  Then he drops onto the other end of the ragged couch and watches Spinner play.

“…Man, you really suck at this.”

-

They dance, ballroom-style, a thing Spinner only ever saw from a distance, frozen in human art.  He should be terrible at it, and maybe he is, but the music seems to guide his feet all the same.  Or maybe it’s Shigaraki, the emptiness at the bottom of his heart so very, very easy to follow.

-

“Why do you do this?” Spinner asks Shigaraki, not long after their first meeting.  “You aren’t one of them, are you?”

They’re staking out a local yakuza spot from a few buildings over, watching cars come and go.  In the dark, Shigaraki’s eyes could pass for normal.

“Why do you this?” Shigaraki echoes, not even looking at him.  “You aren’t one of them.”

“Because—”  Spinner can’t finish the sentence.  Shigaraki may not be an otter, but that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences for saying, Because of you.

“Connections,” Shigaraki says, “are bullshit.”  

His white hair stirs on the breeze from the open window.  

In the distance, Spinner can smell the river.

-

All For One strokes back Shigaraki’s hair, his grin a pale crescent against the black nimbus obscuring the rest of his features.  Shigaraki’s head twitches to the side but he doesn’t otherwise move, neither to lean in nor pull away when the Emperor of Darkness bows his head to whisper into his ward’s ear.

Whispering poison, maybe.

Spinner, waiting at the other end of the basement with Toga, watches the two of them, and wonders.

The otters want to destroy the circle, or so Shigaraki and Ujiko say.  Spinner doesn’t know why—the otters use desire energy just like kappa do, and destroying the circle of all will make it just as inaccessible to them as it would become to kappa.

There must be something they aren’t saying, not that anyone’s going to tell him what that might be.

He watches Shigaraki and All For One, and he thinks about pyramids.

-

Shigaraki hates.  He hates humans, hates kappa, hates otters, hates the circle.  He breathes it, swims in it like it's his own river of life.  It drips off his words, flows through his veins, powers his heart like a turbine.  When they dance, Shigaraki’s eyes never leave his, gaze boring straight through Spinner, as if he’s trying to dig his way into Spinner’s skull with his stare alone, the two of them carried fully by the intensity of his emotions.

Shigaraki leads—across the factory floor, up the escalator, out onto the broad balcony that overlooks the city, the thousands of city lights that shape themselves to the curves of the river.  He leads until the very end, where he pulls himself in close, guides Spinner’s hand to his chest, and splays himself out over Spinner’s arm as Spinner’s claws slip beneath his skin to pull his heart out of his thin white chest.

Spinner draws the organ—ember-red, ember-hot—to his mouth, breathing in the energy of it in shuddering gasps. Ujiko’s implant in Spinner’s chest gives an answering tremble and groans back to life, an uneven pulse that isn’t quite a heartbeat.

And so he’s ready to go for another however-long before they do this again.  A few days, maybe a bit over a week.  He could go longer without, probably, but the machines are always hungry.

Spinner is too.  Laying limp and lax in his hold, Shigaraki’s eyes flutter, his cheeks flushed, a thin whine audible beneath his breathing. Still, his lips are pulled up in a small, tight, fierce grin.

Spinner’s teeth itch. If he sank them into the hot lump of flesh clutched in his taut fingers, would he know why Shigaraki can smile like that?  How he can feel things so strongly and still want to throw it away?

I want to connect, whispers a dangerous, treacherous voice in his mind as he eases Shigaraki’s heart back into place, averting his eyes.  But I’m afraid.

-

Where Shigaraki came from. How he fell in with the otters.  Why he wants to destroy the circle—the sarazanmai could tell him.  The sarazanmai reveals everything.

There are a thousand problems with that, starting with the fact that Spinner is pretty sure that you can’t even perform sarazanmai with a human, and, whatever All For One and Ujiko have done to him over the years, it doesn’t change the fact that Shigaraki is a human.

Spinner turns over in his bed, limbs splaying out every which way.  It’s stiflingly hot in the hideout, both because it’s summer and because of the concentration of desire energy below the building.  He sits abruptly, tank top clinging to his skin, then gets up to open a window.  

Air moves over his face, a laggard breeze that still draws out a soft sigh of relief.  He looks out over the city, breathing in the smoke and the exhaust, the taint of sweaty humanity clinging to every corner of the place.  Beneath it all, he can still smell the river.

…The prince could turn Shigaraki into a kappa.  He’s done it before, or so the stories go, in very desperate times.  He’d have no reason to grant a wish like that anyway, not for a bedraggled, unconnected outcast like Spinner; he’d probably cough up a thousand brass plates before he’d even think about it.

Not that it matters anyway. The prince is dead, lost when the kingdom fell.  Shigaraki’s human, and human he’ll stay, brimming with the kind of raw emotional potency that has drawn youkai towards humans since before humans had even developed a word for connection.

There’s the shirikodama.  The thought arrives in his head so perfectly formed that Spinner looks over his shoulder, suddenly paranoid that Ujiko or Toga appeared to plant it there.  But Toga’s off running around with Twice tonight, and Ujiko never leaves the bowels of the processing plant.

Spinner shivers.

He has never swallowed a human’s desire, not even to hold it in his gullet long enough to deliver it to the prince like the noble delicacy it is.  He could, though.  The city is built on water; they cross streams and rills and offshoots multiple times every day.  It would be so easy to pull Shigaraki into one and let it carry them to the river, let its cool waters soothe away the fever of his hatred, if only for a little while.

Spinner would rest their foreheads together, pull Shigaraki close, and—and extract his desire, drink it down there in the river of life, and with no prince to surrender it to, it would just be his, only his.  All of Shigaraki’s memories, all of his emotions, the very soul of him, made one with Spinner forever.

And maybe he’d be safe there, safe and connected, no matter what becomes of the circle...

…He’s gotten hard.  Fuck.

Spinner makes his way back to bed, but it’s a long while before he gets to sleep.

-

In the morning, there’s a second game controller sitting on the floor, green next to the usual red, their cords winding around each other in a loose spiral.  Spinner stares down at it, then lets his eyes track up to the sound of the low laugh from the rafters.  Shigaraki looks back down at him, his form limned in red light.

“Spinner, I thought of another way for us to connect.”  The delivery is a bit too high, but the voice is Shigaraki’s.  The cajoling lilt of the cadence, though, is otter through and through.

“Knock it off, Toga,” he grits out past clenched teeth.

If the red glow didn’t give her away, the way her eyes flash gold would.  She winks at him, waves, and disappears, laugh lingering behind her.

The real Shigaraki comes out of his room a minute later, still half-asleep, and almost walks into Spinner before he catches himself.  Unselfconscious, he elbows Spinner out of the way and looks down at the—gift? Test?  Spinner hasn’t decided yet.

“Toga?” he asks, voice rough.

Spinner swallows and nods, hyper-aware of Shigaraki’s warmth, and stutter of his own heartbeat, and the grumble of bio-engine below.

Shigaraki exhales, a sharp gust that ruffles his bangs.  “Figures.”

“I can return it,” Spinner offers, which is stupid, really.  It’s not like he knows where Toga got it.  It might not have even come from a regular store; she sees Ujiko just as often as the rest of them, and he always has some new project he’s wanting to test.

But Shigaraki’s already wandering off towards the kitchen.

It’s another day, and there’s plenty of desire waiting to be found.

[be-papas]

ok I've haha joked about the otters representing homophobia before, but in the wake of the finale and the ominous assertion "I am an abstract concept," by the otters.....im gonna make the case that they are Literally Homophobia Itself.

to make things clear, this is just a particular reading of the narrative and i don't think the otters are ONLY homophobia. they encompass many social pressures, notably capitalist ones, that encourage us to devalue our real connections and pursue selfish desires and create commodified objects of desire. i just wanna talk about the homophobia angle specifically for a bit.

now, it’s the understatement of the year to say that sarazanmai is a gay show. not only do we have reo and mabu, tragic love story of the century, but our main trio all has a level of romantic subtext with each other, it being actual text in the case of enta’s crush on kazuki. the otters seek to exploit these relationships through lies: namely, they are every voice in your head that tells you that you are inadequate, that real connections are useless and impossible, and the only real thing is your selfish desire so you might as well take it.

the way that the otters drive reo and mabu apart are the clearest example of them literally representing homophobia. in order to survive and stay by his side, mabu must deny the depth of his feelings for reo. he must lie and say that he hates him, and in turn the otters humor his sexual desires with a facsimile of the real reo. reo thereby loses his trust in mabu and can’t accept anything he does or says is the truth, even as mabu attempts to show his love in nonverbal ways (such as cooking his favorite foods) to circumvent the otters’ restrictions. the lies win. societal stigma and the threat of homophobic violence can similarly destroy real life relationships, forcing people into the closet to protect themselves and their lovers. the subtle things mabu does to get between the lines of what the otters (homophobic society) allow don’t reach their target.

additionally, gay love is devalued and dismissed as nothing but deviant desire--which the otters are happy to provide mabu an outlet for, so long as it remains understood as shallow, a physical weakness. the way that they talk to reo is more of the same, sneering that reo wants to “possess this lifeless doll,” and that desire is the reason he is suffering. this of course, is lies. reo is so upset because “possessing” mabu is the opposite of what he wants; he wants to love and be loved by him. but the otters have twisted the conversation to the point where neither can express this love, and terribly hurt each other instead. i also think it’s particularly worth noting that mabu, as the bottom, is so wholly objectified in this conversation. he’s rendered into a passive, commodified object of desire by the societal pressures that make him unable to express his desire and love for reo.

from here, reo and mabu are unfortunately swept into perpetuating the cycle of homophobic violence that they have been victims of, segueing into how the otters exploit enta and the trio. reo and mabu’s complicity in the system that victimized them reaches its peak when they shoot enta, who sacrifices himself for kazuki much as mabu sacrificed himself for reo. yet this time, it’s reo’s finger on the trigger, reenacting his own trauma but with him in the position of power. i think it is especially important that up to this point, enta and reo have paralleled each other, not enta and mabu. they are both jealous and delusionally clinging to a past, idealized version of their partner as the “real” version of said partner. now, reo isn’t consciously aware of any of the dynamics between enta and kazuki, but inadvertently, he has ended up recreating the shooting scenario the way he wishes it went down, with him getting shot instead of mabu, as he resents mabu’s sacrifice as mabu “leaving him behind.”

in episode 10, the otters themselves try to exploit enta’s relationship to kazuki in the same way, immediately targeting him once reo starts being insubordinate--kazuki will never really love you, enta, so why hold on to your hope? why not satisfy your selfish desires with this copy and live in a fantasy forever? beautiful, brave enta is fortunately able to recognize the otter’s lies for what they are, and resists falling into the same cycle. he breaks the plate (his hope that kazuki will want him in That Way) rather than let the otters (a homophobic society) be able to control and twist that desire into something awful, choosing to focus on his real connection to kazuki as his best friend instead.

while it’s a lot subtler for toi and kazuki, as their queerness is all subtext, i think the way that they try to isolate themselves, particularly from boys their age, says a lot as to the otters representing homophobia. toi, especially, convinces himself that his connections to kazuki and enta are “useless”, and, largely, that he isn’t worthy of their attention and affection. the otters, in the form of chikai, reinforce this. you are only allowed to attach yourself to your brother, because brotherly devotion is allowed. what you feel towards other boys is otterly unacceptable, however. it has to be purged. i think it’s a strong metaphor for being scared of yourself when you realize you’re attracted to the same gender, and the desire to bury everything to do with that fear rather than deal with it, and isolate yourself, which again, is something the otters actively exploit. 

the climax of the finale finally comes to a head when toi is able to admit to himself how much kazuki and enta mean to him, and thereby deny the power of the otters over him. it’s another really powerful transcendant moment for our trio to choose love over self-doubt, despair, and internalized prejudice. ultimately, that’s the lesson of sarazanmai and i just love it to bits. :)

[pyrhass]

"You are otterly wonderful." // :D

Something about that pronunciation brought a smile upon her features. The edges of her lips dragged upwards with mirthful intent. Hands clasped together, just centimeters in between her clavicles. These genuine compliments, they do not greet her ears often. She is often the reason for envy, and thus, the things people say to her often carry the tone of snide. She has become accustomed to such bluntness, that’s why dons armor, to protect herself in more ways than one.

“Oh sweet Yang.” Her eyes shimmer under the sun’s intensity, turning the green of her eyes into a welcoming abyss. Pyrrha’s the kind of girl to wear her heart on her sleeve, and so expressions become so telling, and yet the words that smoothly trespass her lips are often a contraindication of what she decides to show. Not this time, what she says, what she feels and demonstrates with such splendor are one in the same. “I see you are as charming as ever.” 

How cute of the blonde to switch the pronunciation from a U sounding vowel to an O. It’s a trance witnessing how those lips shift to form the sounds, molding around teeth, as the tip of the tongue drags against the palate quickly at the jointed Ts. 

Wait. 

Pyrrha took a pause and leans back on the bench. Its rigid support keeps her steady amidst her thoughts. Her eyes move from left to right as if reading the very phrase, and she does, mentally, repeats the phrasing until the gladiatrix puts two and two together. It’s a pun because of course it is, this is Yang she’s talking to. To expect anything else is to turn her character into a tragedy. A dragon breathes fire, and that is what Yang does. Perhaps not in a literal way but the blonde’s words always rouses something within her. A fire. And so it shows on her crimsoning cheeks, that heated red hue becoming less diluted by the second. 

Pyrrha is embarrassed.

Not because the pun is the embodiment of all that is terrible, not because she’s the butt of the joke, no it’s not that. It’s due to her inability to perceive it and instead fall into its chuckeling trap. “Ah well,” She scoffs first and a smile comes with the afterfow, a timid little thing, easily overlooked with the blush on her cheeks. Arms cross below her chest, the braces of painted gold clank atop just as they do below when Pyrrha crosses her legs. This change in positioning signifies reservation. The girl in armor closes herself off, holding back in fear of revealing too much, in fear of being too vulnerable. 

“Maybe not that charming.” Teasing. Is it acceptable to tease back? She is uncertain of her role.