#spears is just sopping wet cat about it

[sparkdoesart]

Uhh day,, 10?

Worm grass!!!!!

Getting to the next ones soon!!!

[dailyraphael]

I WILL sound old but why is the hedgehog called hella britney spears? Im clueless and I love it?? Hella britney spears even has the same quil colors as shadow so i'm a fan already😂

And....when did the sopping wet cat say that he could fall for the troublesome pink sheep?

hello hello! i'll answer your second question first since that's the shorter one LOL, he said it in his HDD message this year!

"How do you know you've fallen in love?"

"It's difficult to say, but I think someone who works really hard is ideal. The human those seven are always hanging out with comes to mind."

all that and he's still not dateable i'm at my limit

as for hella britney spears obey me's name, it all started with Panda (@/aspiringtrashpanda) suggesting that raphael would like hedgehogs because their backs are made of thousands of spears, and he would have a pet hedgehog named spears

i made a silly comic about this, which was reblogged with this screenshot

and so his full name became HELLA SPEARS

but then over on twitter someone suggested his full name should be britney spears (like the singer), so THEN his full name became hella britney spears

and THEN it was suggested that his full name should be hella britney spears obey me, because obviously raphael's full name is raphael obey me

and thus hella britney spears obey me (or just spears for short) was born!

and spears resembling shadow is intentional, because the devildom species of hedgehogs are called shadow hedgehogs!

[nixii-sabre]

1, 2, 3, 4, and 6 for the ask game :3

1; Oh, I'd have to say Barbecue (I think thats the ship name?). The whole concept of Arti and Gourm having a happy ending with gourm's new pups OR even instead of the new pups, maybe monk and surv as their adopted sluppies is very cute to me. Not too big on slugcat ships in itself but barbecue just catches my attention the most.

2; Hard to say, though I'd have to choose either Trafficlight or Eclipse. I like both equally <3

3; HUNTER. I lov hunter :3

4; SUNS. SEVEN RED SUNS. I LOVE THEM. PATHETIC WET SOPPING CAT PAPER TOWEL THING. AM ATTACHING ONTO THEM SO BAD I LOVE THEM SM

6; Gameplay wise? I'd have to say Rivulet. I'm pretty good about cycle timing when I need to be and BOY do I love being speedy little rat. Lore wise? Couldn't decide between Hunter and Spearmaster. I think spears would be the best though. It holds a lot of interesting lore.

[ofstormsandfire]

Tír na nÓg, ey... im intrigued

oh that's a fun one and one I really want to write but like. solidly coming after I finish tboyl and probably with a few fics in between so the people who consistently misgender my version of volo in the comments fuck off and move on to other things. (and also because this is an entirely separate ficverse.)

and that is in fact the probably-final title, not a working one! lifted from the celtic woman song because. celtic woman my beloved. I am but a simple lesbian your honor.

aaanyway. basically: in the aftermath of a certain fight atop the spear pillar, volo gets reverse-ingoed. in that they (yes I am still nonning their binaries, though for this particular au they might non their own binaries over the course of the story? idk. we'll see how I'm feeling if/when I get around to writing more of this) wake up in the slumbering weald in galar with one (1) pokemon and No Memories apart from their own name.

this kind of stalled out due to the difficulty of getting a togekiss that had the same trainer name but wouldn't listen to me in my copy of sword. but one of these days I'll get around to that. I have a full team for them planned out and so much fun shit including giratina getting involved in the galar plot, chairman rose being more evil than usual, hop and leon basically adopting volo, and some vague thoughts as to postgame which can be summed up as "cynthia happens to read the news, looks at a picture of the new galar champion, has a minor heart attack."

what I have written so far may or may not end up being a part of the actual fic but uh. y'know. have this.

"Oh. I'm Hop!" He grins. "My big bro is Leon." Hop says that name like Volo should know it. He waits, expectantly, for... some kind of a reaction. Unfortunately for Hop, Volo hasn't the slightest clue who he's talking about here. "Leon... who?" Volo tries, hopefully. "Oh, come on, don't give me that! The Leon, the unbeatable champion! The strongest trainer to ever trainer, at least here in Galar, but I bet he could beat any other champion if he wanted to! You know? That Leon? No way you don't know Lee. Everyone knows Lee!" Hop pauses, finally, taking in the look on Volo's face. "You... don't know Lee."

anyway. pov I drag this sopping wet cat of a character I enjoy through a "get loved and appreciated before you remember The Horrors and maybe, just maybe, it'll be enough that you don't try shit like that again" arc.

[shorkbrian]

Your brother Kirishima and his spiritual, moral brother Tetsutetsu, will worship you from head to toe. They will love, lick and mark every millimeter your "gorgeous and fragile" body. They will carry you in their arms like a bride treasure, if you tell them. Sometimes they fight over you, because they're both terribly possessive, but once they see you, they team up to love you.until you're become stupid enough to admit you're their bride

Not requcst, just letting you know💞

omg stOP I can’t be this horny this early in the day pls bro oml.

god

(What to expect - incest, NSFW, dubcon, manhandling. Blowjobs, size kink, DP in one hole (I cannot believe I just typed that lol I’ve fallen so far))

Seriously just thinking about how Kirishima and Tetsutetsu grew up together, you’re used to their little antics. They’re gym buddies now, and Tetsutetsu showers after Kiri before the two of them come and invade whatever space you’re in. The three of you had moved in together, and at the time you had thought it to be a good idea. It was seemingly less attractive now that you knew 80% of your homelife would be spent speared on one, if not both of their cocks.

When you’re in your room, one sprawls across the bed, the other lounging on the floor, whining for attention.

If you’re in the kitchen, they crowd around you, barely giving you space to breathe as they pester you with questions, let their hands wander, snickering when you slap them away.

Watching TV? they’ll plop down on either side of you, tripping you between two hard (in more ways than one), muscled bodies.

You can’t ever ignore them for long, because even if you try, you’ll get pulled away from whatever you’re doing, and into a lap.

Sometimes it’s Kirishima’s, your brother grabbing your hips and pulling you over his legs, until you’re straddling him chest-to-chest. Kisses get pressed to your face, all over your cheeks, and his hands are already kneading at your ass like a cat kneads at a blanket.

Other times, it’ll be Tetsutetsu that picks you up, swinging you up into his arms like a princess, cooing at your “cute little face!” as he carries you. The silver-haired man finds a good spot to sit down, situating you in his lap so you’re sideways, Kirishima sliding to sit next to his bro, slinging your legs over his lap.

You’re used to the uneasy feeling in your stomach every time they come around, have already made peace with the fact that they're going to touch you, and you can’t stop them. This had been going on long enough for you to begrudgingly accept all of it.

They’re so big, and beefy, it’s impossible to try and fight.

So you let them grope your body, kissing every single inch. Tetsutetsu paws at your chest while sucking hickies onto you neck, Kirishima tickling thee skin of your legs while he messily kisses up them.

It’s often that you find one of them on their knees in front of you, eagerly trying to pull down your bottoms before you can even breathe.

The other one will catch your hands, stop you from trying to keep yourself dressed, kissing you deeply as the other man bares your lower half.

Your knee gets lifted over a shoulder, the man between your legs immediately diving into suckling at your folds, slurping and spitting and being gross between your thighs.

The sensation is overwhelming. With Kirishima, he likes to focus on your clit, catch it gently between his teeth and flick his tongue over it repeatedly, make you sag against his face and scream, Tetsutetsu holding you up, swallowing your scream with his mouth on yours.

With Tetsutetsu between your legs, it’s more controlled, a steady buildup until you cum. It doesn’t hit you like a truck out of nowhere, the silver-haired man preferring to go slow and steady, hands digging into your thighs to keep you still.

Sometimes, when Tetsutetsu is out, Kirishima will make you ride his face, lapping at you like a dog, hands on your hips forcing you to grind against him, pressing his nose between your folds, absolutely drenching his face.

You don’t know what they see in you, why they worship you so.

Tetsu likes cockwarming, having his dick nestled inside your warmth at night, hand around your waist to stop you from wiggling away from him and letting his cock pop free while he sleeps. He hates waking up to find you gone.

It’s hard to move though, with Kirishima pressed to your other side, face nuzzled into your chest.

Kirishima’s tried cockwarming with you, having you kneel and hold him in your mouth while he plays a game, but he can never hold himself back. You try to swallow your saliva around his thick dick, and he’s gone, frantically humping against your face, apologizing for being so rough.

You only ever get a break when they go to the gym, and it’s hardly a break when you have the knowledge that they’re going to come home, keyed up and pumped full of testosterone, ready to fuck your brains out.

They get in fights sometimes, only when they come back from the gym. They remind you of two giant bears, spitting at each other, baring their teeth, posturing while one clutches you to their chest.

You feel like a rag doll, getting pulled around like you weigh nothing. Kirishima will growl at Tetsu, because the redhead wants more time with you, doesn’t want to pull out and let his cum splatter to the floor.

Tetsutetsu’s impatient, cock hard enough to cut diamonds, already stripped and lubed, ready to pound into your mushy, sopping wet insides, mix up Kiri’s cum into froth.

Their fights never last for long, Tetsu being satisfied when Kirishima makes you offer the other man your mouth, or your tits for him to fuck.

It’s the worse when they fuck you at the same time, spending more than an hour prepping you so they can squeeze both of their cocks into your cunt. It’s agonizing, more mentally so than physically - they take care of you after all.

Kirishima’s cock is blunter than Tetsu’s, uncut and thick, enough to leave you breathless and stuffed whenever he fucks up into you. Even stationary, it’s almost too much, stretching you uncomfortably.

Tetsu’s longer than Kirishima, arguably prettier, with his cock circumcised, prominent crown, veins traveling the length. He’s just as thick, but both men can fuck you until you pass out, so “who’s cock is better” isn’t ever really a question that crosses your mind.

They’ve asked you before, turning it into a game, taking turns fucking you until you’re a sobbing, drooling mess, barely even able to hold yourself up as they bounce you on their cocks.

But when they both fuck you, you’re crying from the first second that the second cock teases at your hole. You know the pressure will be immense, make you choke and sob, clutching onto whoever’s closest as they coo and praise you for taking them so well.

As soon as your body adjusts to the intrusion, neither of them hold back, thrusting up, kissing your neck, shoulders, face, any inch of skin they can reach. They say it feels amazing, having your gummy walls clenching down on them, so tight it’s almost painful, accompanied by the sensation of their cocks rubbing against each other.

When they penetrate you at the same time, they never last long.

Other times, Kirishima will claim your pussy, leaving your ass to Tetsutetsu who has the patience to prep you fully, tongue, then fingers, until you’re ready for his cock.

Kirishima’s the one with a noticeably higher sex drive, always crawling over you for a quickie, manhandling you whenever you’re focused doing something else, easily putting you in positions where he has access to your cunt.

Sometime’s he’s kind enough to let you still work on whatever it was you were doing, such as schoolwork, or playing a game while he fucks you.

It’s a never-ending cycle with these two, always having someone touching you, kissing you, licking you, fucking you.

You’re going to have to start liking it sooner or later, because they don’t plan on stopping

[glitterportrait]

hamish dream drabble thing

In the dream he hears Alice calling to him on the shore.

He barely recalls what it looks like, the beach nearest Kirkwall. He’d been so young the last time he left it, and green-cheeked at the mere prospect of boarding another ship. But in the dream he knows she’s waiting there for him, sitting on the rocks with sand in her skirts, leashed impatience in her face.

Come down, Hamish, and I’ll tell you a story.

He’d always liked her stories. She would respin the old islanders’ yarns, adding her own distinctive flourish, as careful to pronounce the Orcadian names in her hard-won English accent as he. She had a fine voice for storytelling, Alice, unexpectedly fine; the richness of it issuing from her bird-boned frame surprised you, put you in mind of a practiced orator at his podium. In Yvon’s dedicated efforts to read to him Hamish often hears the echo of Alice’s cadence, though he will never say so.

You like the gruesome ones best, I know. So I shall tell you of the Nuckelavee.

What was the Nuckelavee? It’s been so many years since he heard that one, he can’t remember. Something with a horse, he thinks, one of those preposterous water-dwelling fairy equines that the Scottish seem so fond of. Well, he will let her tell it, for old times’ sake.

He tries to walk down to the beach, but the walls of Wobik loom in his path. The gate is closed, and leaning against the spear-sharpened planks, fleur-de-lis wilting over his head, Elisha Cooke greets him.

“You won’t find what you came from in there.”

Cooke is soaking wet, as though he’d tumbled straight out of the sea. To Hamish he always appears damp around the edges, with his pale eyes penetrating yet watered down, hair unnaturally slick at the temples. But now he’s sodden through and through, his beard a bedraggled fisher-cat’s tail, dripping down his embroidered waistcoat.

“But you’ve been there,” Hamish corrects him. “You know what it’s like.”

“No indeed, Mr. Goames,” Cooke replies, his chuckle so soft it’s more like a gasp. “I was never there, not really. Surely you know that? But if you must try for it, don’t forget to bring that in with you.”

Cooke points to Hamish’s feet, and glancing down he sees a fox, lying there with paws tucked under its chest. Though it doesn’t look quite right—it’s made of old rags, stuffed and stitched together, with whiskers and ears drawn on in charcoal—

He turns back to Cooke, but he’s vanished. Bill Selby stands in his place, and he’s sopping not with saltwater, but with gore. Bits of viscera slide down his flushed cheeks; he grins at Hamish as the gate swings wide behind him.

“Watch thee step un’r the black sun, lad!” It isn’t Gay Bill’s broad Glaswegian he hears, but a rarer and scarce-recollected lilt, the sound of his father’s tongue.

He pushes past Selby, squinting at the sky (the black sun overhead is still bright, bright enough to stab and scrape beneath your eyelids if you’re not careful) and finds himself on the shore. Only it’s the river before him, not the ocean: the vast and martyred Saint Laurent, though he hears the pounding of ocean waves clear as though he looked upon the North Sea’s face.

“It’s just the sound of what’s coming,” Yvon says, ambling up from the riverbank, braid unraveling, blood in his nostril from the blow Bill landed, still bruised and burst-prune violet as the moment he last saw him—

my God I am sorry I am sorry for it

—leaving with the girl.

“I know you are no great cavalryman, no more than I.” Yvon’s lips quirk in amusement. He raises an open palm as if to take hold of Hamish’s shoulder, though he does not.

“But listen again.”

And Hamish does, and he realizes that the pounding, the rhythmic slam and strike, is the sound of galloping hooves.

“Is that what I came from, then?” He tries to focus on Yvon’s face, but it blurs into unfamiliarity, and from there into nothingness; there is no one to walk with him, no one but the ragdoll fox.

It is watching him from a little ways up the beach, and he does not remember its face being so sooty, so stained about the mouth before. The cloth lips drawn back from its teeth, and its creaking voice unspools like string, tautening in the gusts of sea-wind: Savedyourskinsavedyourskin. The words all run together, but he discerns it when they change again: Askinforaskinforaskin.

There’s a pain beneath his ribs, a pain like what he imagines an apple’s flesh might feel under the edge of Yvon’s coring knife. When he looks down he sees the fox’s head gnawing at his side, burrowing into the wound with exultant glee, muzzle soft as a babe’s plaything and bright as a bloodied hand—

He slaps the fox away, moaning, shouting, though no sound comes out.

Hamish! Would you hear the tale or not?

He follows Alice’s voice, ever onward, until he finds her silhouette against the waterline. Obsidian sunlight glances off and into his unblinking eyes, so that looking hurts almost as much as his side; and when she faces him he isn’t in the least taken aback to see her gaze is as black as Cross claimed.

“The Nuckelavee is both ridden and the thing that rides. It is the plague of our blood, and only the Mither of the Sea can check it. I’ve told you this many times. But you forgot to bring the sea with you.”

That is right, Hamish realizes. He has always forgotten. In his ears the hoofbeats have grown louder, a roar that lodges in the mind, that blights all hope of future quiet.

“Do I have to go back?”

Of course it is Yvon who answers, materializing by his bleeding side, his warm seamed skin splitting with a smile.

“You don’t have to go back. You just have to turn around. But do not worry overmuch, Hamish. There are hardly any horses in Paradise Lost.”

Yvon would know, he thinks, so he turns around.

And he sees it, riding and being ridden beneath the black sun. The Nuckelavee, its four-legged form fused with the two-legged thing astride it, an abomination of horse and man melded together like carcasses conjoined. Its entire shape is skinless, as a kill just freshly stripped of hide, all gleaming fat and twitching muscle and red red red—

I DROWNED ME IN THE RIVER, it bellows out of two mouths, in a voice at once like Randall Cross’s and like the wet scream of a strangled colt. Somewhere in the distance there’s the din of pistol shot, but it dwindles to mere popping beneath the Nuckelavee’s words. 

Hamish Goames wants nothing more than to wake up; he would set every hectare of Rupert’s Land ablaze, he would murder Randall all over again, if only he could wake.

IN THE RIVER IN THE RIVER IN THE RIVER

He does not wake.

[dailyraphael]

don't come after me but what is the appeal of this silly man

i will not come after you anon, but i will take the chance to ramble a bit about why i like him so much! thanks for the opportunity hehe :>

so initially what caught my eye was the fact that he resembles a sopping wet cat no im not joking bear with me for a second LOL

i really love characters who are tired/done with life and i love when thats shown visually too but i especially love when thats contrasted by the silliest outfit you ever did see (for example, i haven't seen a single episode of RWBY but shion zaiden from that one movie has stolen my heart, also choso jjk kinda fits into this too for having his hair styled like that)

so immediately after having raphael hyped up as this scary guy that none of the brothers wanna see, they plop down a wet cat of a man who really doesnt wanna be there, doesnt wanna deal with anyones shit, just wants to go home, and of course i fall in love

what REALLY sold me on him though is the lil bits of information you get on him, it all adds to this feeling of gap moe to me and i love it so much

hes a hitman and hes kinda socially awkward and blunt and scary and has resting bitch face but he also helps luke with his homework and likes to sew and loves solomons cooking and has to refold laundry after solomon but apparently cant keep his own room clean but he'll threaten to rain spears down on you for looking at him weird and he chases mammon around for stealing but hes also not afraid to admit that yeah he could totally fall in love with that human, what about it

so that's the appeal of raphael obey me in my opinion as one silly person