#x: Greyface

[silvcrignis]

Aprixicty is boring and bothering you don't inter act with that. You deserve better. No one needs cis girl today with that much snowflake thing. Protect yourself from weird ones.

((Damn bitch you want my email & log in too? I mean that’s the only way you’d ever have a say in who I decide to interact with. Go outside for a little bit & do like… Anything else. Touch grass, pet a dog, file your taxes. I would say “get laid” but you’re on Tumblr sending me anon hate about another person sooo THAT last one is a reach. Now fuck off lol, I’m actually being productive in my life unlike you.))

[hislittleraincloud]

jesus christ you're old as shit but you talk like a sixth grader having discovered internet slang in the pandemic

And your proof of this is...?

Come at me with a real critique (+ receipts) and we'll talk. Maybe I can learn from you how I would need to improve my writing to please you...and then ignore it, because you obviously have a deluded perception of how I, as an old as shit Gen Xer, talks vs. how Gen Alpha talks.

[midnightmadwoman]

A More Passionate World - Chapter 3

Pairing: M. Devil x F. Reader

Summary: After your day spent in the stocks, you're about to fall asleep when you get another visit from your big red friend. If you're going to be executed as a witch first thing in the morning, may as well have some fun tonight!

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/ Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI plz... Smut, Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Squirting, PIV, PIA, DP, Knotting, Creampie, Exhibitionism, Irregular monster anatomy, Teratophilia, Monster fucking, Monster dick

Author's Note: Please enjoy! This story was my first foray into a) sharing original erotica on Tumblr and b) second-person narrative. If this sounds like the sort of thing you like, then this is the story for you, but please remember that the reverse is also very true.

If you haven't read Chapters One and Two yet, that's them. I suppose you don't really need the whole story to enjoy this sex scene, but there is indeed more where this came from.

The thought of your impending death by drowning should have filled you with dread, but you found yourself unable to muster any terror. You could tell that the stories (and fears) that you'd filled your neighbours' heads with would long outlive you. Those greyfaced corpses in their stupid hats wished they had this sort of influence and longevity.

For whatever reason, you found great comfort in the gloom of your jail cell that night, with the threadbare straw and damp stone walls seeming warm and spa-like. You were about to nod off to sleep when you heard the soft metallic thrum of claws against metal bars.

“You looked ravishing bent over in the stocks today,” said the Ikkarbyrax.

“Would that someone had taken the opportunity and ravished me. You're the one I was most looking forward to a visit from.”

He slithered over to you and placed his large hand on your ribs. “Forgive my lateness. I had a lot of excited maidens to tease. You inflamed many imaginations, and I have but one tongue.”

You placed your hands on his firm abdomen. “There is nothing and no one I'd rather spend my last night alive doing.” You pounced, grabbing his head in a passionate kiss and leaping into his arms. He caught and steadied you, your generous backside filling both his hands.

“You have such delicious lips, both pairs,” said the demon breathlessly as he came up for air.

You dove on him again, massaging his shoulders and scalp, and tasting his forked tongue. “All through my trial, all day in the stocks,” you began as you traced a line of kisses across his cheek to his neck, “I couldn't stop thinking about you. You're the only thing anyone who came to visit me wanted to talk about, and I was happy to oblige.”

“Oh dear. What were you saying about me – dare I ask?”

“I described your beauty, your kindness, your dimensions... and your prowess. The more I said, the more fondly and vividly the memory came back. The more I longed for one last taste before the lights go out.” You sighed and hung your head. “I wish I knew why this town hated me.”

“Hating you is easier than admitting that they hate themselves.” He stroked your hair, raking his claws gently over your scalp. “Joke's on them though: loving you is even easier still. Who needs their church's paradise when you have a better one nestled in your skirts?”

You squirmed in his grasp, rubbing your mound against him through your layers of wool. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him, and felt his fingers at your back deftly untying your bodice's cord. You felt the weight of your breasts change as the supporting back loosened and, balancing with your legs around his middle, leaned back and threw your chemise to the floor.

The air of the prison cell chilled your naked flesh for a moment before the demon hoisted you higher, bringing your breasts to face level and warming them with his hot panting breath. You were high enough to reach up and touch the cell's earthen ceiling, but you settled on his head, ruffling his hair and fondling his horns as he buried his face in your bosom.

The Ikkarbyrax hummed contentedly as he played with your tits, first with his nose, then with his lips. He ran his hands over the supple skin of your back and could feel you shiver in delight, shifting your weight onto his horn and shoulder. He ventured his left hand downward, snaking under the drawstring of your skirt to head toward your shift, but was stopped by the string.

You gave him a smile and patted his shoulder to get his attention. You hopped out of his arms onto the floor, and without wasting another second doffed your petticoat, letting it fall unmourned onto the floor and kicking it into the corner. You cocked your hip at him, standing as proudly and frankly nude as he did.

Kirby lunged and swiftly scooped you up, wrapping his right arm under your left knee, placing his left hand on your tailbone to steady you and lifting your quim to face level for the feast.

You leaned back and grabbed the iron bars of your jail cell. There you reclined, five feet in the air, with a red incubus between your legs, wetly and noisily rooting around in your folds. You were sure you were leaking your pleasure freely, and made no effort to contain the sounds of your ecstasy.

Kirby applied sloppy, lazy pressure with his tongue, flicking its twin tips in a syncopated rhythm on either side of your labia. He echoed your moans, sending his deep, rumbly vocal vibrations into your vulva. The thrashing of your pelvis rippled through your legs, and the demon had to shift his weight to keep balance.

You were about to cum in that flying position just as the warden came down the hallway rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Keep it down in there,” he burbled as the light of his candle illuminated you and your devil in flagrante delicto. “You sound as though you're having a spastic f-” His voice failed him as soon as he made sense of what he was seeing.

You lost your grip on the prison bars as you orgasmed, but Kirby was ready for you. He caught you and dropped your shuddering body onto the cell's meagre straw cot. As pleasure racked you and you were consumed in giggles, the demon turned to the intruder, idly wiping your juices from his mouth with his thumb.

“I'd offer you a turn if I thought you could satisfy her,” said the demon before sticking his thumb in his mouth. He sucked it with a grin.

The warden was so shocked he lost his balance, landing on his ass. His candle went out.

“Here,” said the demon from the gloom. The jailer heard a sound of a smooch and the ensuing fireball lit up the Ikkarbyrax' face as he blew a kiss of flame at the man, startling him, but reigniting his candle. “Run along.”

You rode out the shockwaves of your orgasm, cackling as the sound of the jailer's panicked footsteps echoed down the hall. It hadn't occured to him to grab the candle.

Kirby watched as you rolled off the cot in the fetal position, landing on your feet but still doubled over. He placed a hand on your upper back and you bucked even as you lunged for him. “You're not spent after one climax, are you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you growled in reply, seizing his hips and weaving your fingers into the fur of his groin. “Give me that cock.”

The demon sighed happily in reply. “My heart, you can have both.” His generous anatomy reacted to your curious and eager touch, unfurling from his body and swelling to size. He could feel your breath against his member in kind, and you gripped the lesser cock firmly and gave the larger one a nuzzle and lick, and watching in satisfaction as its slit started drooling pre-ejaculate. Your tongue traced its underside, leaving long wet trails. You formed a small vacuum with your lips and dragged your mouth back and forth following your own drool.

Kirby let out small gasps and grunts, steadying himself on the prison bars. He winced slightly as you held his two penises together and slurped up and down their left sides. You swirled your tongue around their tips in a figure-8 and, feeling adventurous, slipped the tower into your mouth. You felt a bit like a snake unhinging its jaw to eat an egg, and you did your best to relax your tongue and throat.

The demon couldn't believe what he'd just felt. He looked down and did indeed see his huge cock slowly disappear into your gullet. Your hands continued massaging his considerable length, and all he could do was stare and begin to wonder how this beautiful creature could breathe. Your enthusiasm and willingness brought tears to his eyes and prize, and he finally couldn't take any more. He slowly slid himself free from your sucking mouth. “I might fit more easily elsewhere,” he huffed quietly, pointing your face upwards.

“I thought you'd never ask,” you said as you glistened gleefully. You stood up and shoved him to the cot. The Ikkarbyrax outweighed you by a good eight stone, but he obliged your lusty insistence, allowing himself to be thrown at your pleasure into your desired position. He sat down and reclined, and you straddled him eagerly, grabbing his head and kissing him. The demon wrapped his hands around your ribs as he hoisted your body upwards and guided his cock into position. He could feel your nervous panting in his fingers as you nestled his generous girth into your cunt.

Gaspingly, you bounced slowly and deliberately, taking him slightly deeper each time. Your pupils drifted away from each other and your eyelids drooped as you eagerly stretched wider and deeper. You could feel the point of his second cock nudge your anus, sliding past and resting against your tailbone.

Kirby could feel your breath hitch as you lost yourself in intensity. “Breathe, wildflower,” he reminded you gently. You opened your eyes and looked at him, and replied by grinning and quickening your pace. His hands wandered north to play with your breasts, and you rode him with relish, gripping his face with adoration. You leaned forward and arched your back, enjoying the washboard feeling of his second cock's ridges massaging your backside. The demon slipped one of your nipples into his mouth, prompting you to squeal and slide all the way down on his member, surprising the both of you.

Your cunt felt wonderful, and the demon could feel your cream trickling around the base of his cock. “You're so good at that,” he remarked incredulously, “it's like watching a magic trick.” Your quim fluttered around his manhood and he moaned.

“Mmm, you like that?” you replied, bouncing a few times for good measure.

Kirby moaned again, stroking your torso. In truth his second dick was bent slightly uncomfortably, but he thrust upwards playfully in response. “Mind if I adjust, my love?”

“Anything,” you replied.

The demon put his hands on your ass and lifted you off him into the air as he stook up. He set you on your feet, gave you a kiss, and turned you away from him.

“What are we doing?” you asked excitedly.

Kirby raked his claws down your back, prompting a quiver and a sigh. “Since you've shown how well you can take me,” he bent you forward and you happily complied, “this might be the more agreeable angle.” He slapped your ass, bringing a coo to your lips and slid his large cock past your cunt, spreading your nectar all across your vulva and over his pikestaff. “Ready?”

“Oh yes please,” you bleated over your shoulder.

The demon slid his enormous cock into you, filling you copiously. From this position the ripples of his smaller second penis bumped between your labia and past your clitoris. His ridged cock massaged you deliciously with every thrust, and you simply couldn't contain the sounds of your pleasure. You let out loud squeak as he doubled forward, rocking your hips.

“Uh oh,” said the demon, holding his cock still. “Are you alright?”

“Hells bells, don't stop!” you cackled, leaning forward then back to create four inches of thrust, still revelling in the novelty of stimulation inside and out. “Fuck, I've never felt anything like this. You set me on fire.” You leaned back and reached behind you. Kirby caught your chin and answered the kiss you asked for. “More, more please,” you whispered into his mouth. “Fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” said the demon, sliding forward slowly with his full length. His thrusts were long and languid, and your body took his monstrous cock with surprising ease – and gusto. He started gently enough, but soon you were bucking against him, your grunts and moans getting louder and more feral, imploring him to fuck you harder.

You were losing your mind, every motion in every direction driving you further into hitherto unimagined depths of carnal ecstasy. The superstructure of your clitoris was being squeezed and stroked from what seemed like five dimensions. You happened to glance at the wall, and the candle the warden had dropped was casting flickering shadows through the prison bars, turning you two into a pornographic puppet show. The sight of your hulking horned lover spearing you with his twin pikestaffs made you feel every bit the filthy sex witch you'd been called. It was almost too wicked to take.

The demon could feel your quim suddenly tighten and convulse, massaging his members in kind. It took some effort to keep his head in the game and maintain his current rhythm and speed because he knew what was coming next. Your vulva spritzed against his pointed cock, spraying the cot underneath yourself in two directions. The sudden shower of warmth felt amazing against his dick, and he longed to stay planted, relishing your convulsions. They weren't limited to your pelvis – your back and hips thrashed like a bucking mustang and you pulled forward, whimpering loudly and uncontrollably. You shuddered and yelped loudly and you pulled your body off his erection, your orgasm continuing heartily of its own accord.

Kirby grabbed you roughly, enjoying the way pleasure rippled through your whole body, reminding him of a freshly caught fish fighting for its life. And, just like a fisherman, he wan't about to let you off the hook. “Where do you think you're squirming off to?” he snarled, manhandling you and flipping you over to face him.

You leapt into his arms, the violent spasms of your lingering orgasm causing you to almost headbutt him as you went in for a hungry kiss. You stroked his arms and chest and bucked in his grip. With one hand the demon clutched your thigh and the other steadied you in the small of your back as you rubbed your soggy swollen vulva against the surface of his enormous upper horse cock.

There's no telling how long you and he would have stayed locked in your tight embrace if the demon hadn't noticed a change in the cell's light level and turned his head. He spotted in the dark the glistening eyes of three wordless men watching your display from the corridor. There stood the judge, the mayor and the jailer, three slack jaws and one trembling candle to light their gobsmacked faces. Kirby shifted his feet and turned you so you could see your incredulous audience, but before he could think of some clever lewd comment, you opened your mouth and let out a bloodcurdling roar, startling the demon almost as much as the three men. The roar turned into a strangled hissing screech and the demon watched in amusement as the powerful town elders tripped over each other as they scrambled away to holy safety.

You held tighter to the demon and continued to hump him as you barked like a dog until your witnesses were out of sight. Kirby was so shocked that he lost his grip on you, but with a kiss you hopped to the floor. “Damned if I'm going to spend my last night alive explaining myself to those dickless cretins,” you said simply, pawing idly at your lover's chiseled pecs.

The demon took a step backwards and beheld you, the sweaty wild beast before him. “You are the most magnificent creature I've ever heard of.”

“Wow, that's high praise coming from you,” you replied. “If I remember correctly, you were threatening me with another good pounding?” You stoked his cock, still slick with your nectar. “Go on then, make me wicked.”

The demon leaned down and kissed you, fondling you as you had just fondled him, and snaking his prehensile tail over your freshly fucked cunt. You relaxed into his skillful touch and squirmed appreciatively as he massaged your perineum and anus. “How wicked am I allowed to be with you?”

“As much as your heart desires,” you answered, bucking your hips against his tail like an animal in heat. You mind followed his into the gutter. “I want you to fill me as full of your pleasure as you please.” The tip of his tail ringed your back door, teasing you in circles, and your hole opened in welcome as your quim ozzed. You slid your tongue into his mouth with an “mmm” sound, which got louder as the tip of his tail gently and timidly slipped into your body. Your head swooned and your knees buckled, and you set yourself clumsily on your back on the cot.

Kirby followed you, holding his tail in place and playing with your clit with one hand, your nipple with the other. He explored you carefully, sliding his tail ever-so-slowly and making shallow strokes. The slick emerging from your cunt flowed freely, and Kirby made liberal use of it with his tail and fingers. He leaned forward and nuzzled you, his face to yours, and his two enormous penises poised at your vulva. “May I?” he asked simply, his eyes full of lust.

You nodded, and he slithered his tail skillfully out of your ass and replaced it with his pointed smaller cock. You couldn't help but marvel at how smoothly it slid into position, and how hungrily your body widened to swallow your lover. You had no idea your body was capable of fitting so much demon inside you; you felt like you were giving birth in reverse. “Oh my fucking god,” you blurted, incredulous. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Kirby held still. “Too much?”

“Don't you dare fucking stop!” You raised your hips to take more cock, and he obliged with care. Between the dirty, delectable feeling of fullness, the demon's body heat looming over and enveloping you, and the striking ethereal crimson of the hellish beast fucking you in half, you were almost completely lost in pleasure.

And then fully lost you became. You forgot the trial, the court, your crimes, and the cell. The stocks, your sentence, your accusers and prosecutors all fell away, as did your worries, your fears, memories and name. Your body was all there was, sparkling, tingling and singing, until you were an orgasmic nymph existing in a transcendental eternal moment of fuck. You supported yourself on your hands as the demon held you by the thighs, burying his twin cocks rhythmically in your pussy and ass at once. The ridges of his smaller member popped past your anus back and forth, and the pressure pushed his larger cock forward from below, pressing into that clever spot that made your peach explode with juice. The more dick he fed you, the more you wanted, and you fucked him back with equal vigor. Soon you found yourself sitting right against his pelvis, bumping playfully against the bulb at the base of his cock. And still you craved more.

Kirby didn't know how much more of this woman he could take. He watched the bulge on the skin of your stomach as his dimensions stretched your tight cunt from the inside. Each cock could feel the other through your body, and double-stuffing you made both entrances even tighter. He's started to lose count of the number of times you'd squirted; by this point your reservoir had well and truly run dry, but still you spasmed and came on his cock, squeezing him like a vise every time. It had done nothing to stop or slow him down, though.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” said the demon as his jaw clenched and hs eyes squeezed shut.

You could feel the appendages inside you shudder. “Oh fuck?”

His thrusting slowed. “No no, I shouldn't...”

You reclined on your back and wrapped your legs around his hips, taking him down with you. “You fucking should,” you snarled into his ear as you pulled him closer and even deeper still inside you.

“Oh fuck,” repeated the demon, “oh fuck me.”

You felt the bulge suddenly widen inside your ass and both cocks bounced and pulsed in place, massaging you marvellously.

Kirby's huge hands gripped and squeezed your ass, his claws digging into your flesh. It was almost enough to drive you over the edge again. You could feel his muscles stiffen and his butt flex against your feet as he climaxed and injected you. His upper back curled forward as he locked himself in place, grunting, grimacing and whimpering.

The gush of heat as his semen dribbled over your skin made you feel filthy, debase and corrupt. It was fucking magnificent. The demon's body tensed still as the aftershocks rocked him, and you embraced the hot, hard, sweaty bulk of him. He wrapped himself around you in return, revelling in being balls-deep in such gorgeous flesh. He gave you a breathless kiss and you reciprocated enthusiastically, cradling his jaw and massaging his tongue with yours.

As soon as his eyes could focus again he looked down at your beautiful face, grinning like the cat that got the cream. Which, of course, you had. Your face glowed up at him in pure adoration.

You made to lean back and climb off him, but got caught on the engorged knot of his cock in your ass. Your rapture turned to mild alarm. The Ikkarbyrax smiled sheepishly.

“I was worried this might happen,” he said, shifting his hips.

If his whole body weren't already so luridly red, you would swear he was blushing. “I dare them to pull you off me,” you purred, flicking your tongue at him before giving him another kiss. You took a deep breath, relaxed, exhaled and popped his swollen bulb out of your ass. You looked down and watched the demon's huge dual dicks slide out of your body, trailing a stream of his custard. You couldn't help but run your fingers over your clitoris at the sight. “Wow.”

The demon crouched, contemplating the fresh frosting leaking out of his lover's holes. “Sorry, I did get carried away, didn't I?”

“Don't be sorry," you cooed, lolling backwards. "I'll be long dead before any seed of yours makes a mother of me.”

“In that case, I'm sorry you'll spend your final night on this Earth sleeping in a puddle.”

At that you laughed loudly and rolled onto your knees. You could feel the demon's ejaculate flowing down your legs, rapidly cooling on your skin and giving you a sinful thrill. You hugged your devil. “I have no intention of sleeping.”

[positivelybeastly]

What kind of training regimen gives you a build like that anyway? You're not enhancing are you?

"I'm almost offended, greyface. But it's a fair enough question, I guess, considering the amount of Twinkie wrappers Jarv finds in the trash, and the fact that I know the number of all the local Chinese takeouts off by heart."

"First off, no, I don't enhance. Despite what Reverend Can't-Hit-A-Stryker and Graydon't-Ask-Me-About-My-Bloodline Creed might tell you, mutant bodies are all natural."

"Second, you start off with your basic human mutant genome, which is just naturally inclined towards a stronger, healthier, longer lived physique, regardless of how your X-gene manifested - and this isn't any of that homo superior bull-dookey, that's just scientific fact.

You ever wonder why a lot of mutants tend to be pretty built despite not having access to a gym, well, nature gave us a leg up there."

"Third, you exercise, and you bounce everywhere, and you jump, and you burn off more calories than you take in - which is saying something, considering the fact that I can eat multiple chicken buckets without feeling sick, but it's true!"

"Fourth, you take up some dangerous, active hobbies, like being a superhero! You won't ever be sedentary again, your cardio is never in doubt, you keep muscle tone or you die - it's a great incentive to stay in shape!"

"Fifth, and most importantly - you become the single sexiest Avenger and New Defender there is, you find yourself a nice club on a Saturday night, and, well.

You dance the night away~"

[pokegardecools]

Dude this burner troll account blows. Theres 0 effort in your blog build and ur shock value is vore? Low effort as fuck and sub-norm at this point. Lean into the incest harder and then maybe youll be block worthy. Lmao.

Your words would sting a little more if you actually had the balls to do it off anon. I do not care what some greyfaced loser thinks of me.

Also Sonic X tails is NOT incest. They aren't even biologically related. Hell they arent even the same fukken species, you homophobic jackhole!

[aegor-bamfsteel]

“He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. "The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah," she told him.” —AGOT, Daenerys IX

“Grey-faced Lord Gyles Rosby was coughing into a square of pink silk.” —ACOK, Sansa I

“[Varamyr] The skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling's eyes.” —ASOS, Jon X

“The queen had expected to hear from Lord Gyles as well, but instead Grand Maester Pycelle appeared, grey-faced and apologetic, to tell her that Rosby was too weak to leave his bed.” —AFFC, Cersei VIII

“Septon Cellador rose grey-faced and sweating, Othell Yarwyck stiffly, Bowen Marsh tight-lipped and pale.” —ADWD, Jon VIII

Thinking about calling the ASOIAF-related anons who send hate mail by the names of some unflattering greyfaced characters

[benevolentgodloki]

Nothing compares to loki ruining thor's life anon or should i say X-5

"I'm assuming this was the ask that was 'sent wrong'? In any case, I agree, the other greyface sounded very much like Mr Wolfe. Perhaps he'd care for a Round 3 with me?"

[itsbitmxdinhere]

Guys (greyfaces) how many times do I have to say I won't engage in any type of drama, if there is something really bothering you come talk to me on my IMs and we'll talk about it like grown ups, but sending me anonymous asks implying X is doing something won't get anywhere bc I'll just block and delete it.

Here is the PSA of the day

[shoot-of-corruption]

Anonymously tell me what your favorite ship for my muse is.... Bakura x Mariku

((I guess you mean the Yami here?))

His eyes widened and he turned around towards the greyface.

"I think that might destroy your world - as you know it. Are you certain this is a good idea?"

[silvcrignis]

Clod you need to kil Axprocity okay she need money not you. She ugly for you.

“… Are you having a stroke? I cannot even legitimately answer this, I have no idea what the fuck this is. You type like you have broken fingers… & dropped out at. Year three at the latest.”

[ask-xi]

*leaves a basket of cookies and jam in front of the tardis with a small thank you in general note*

"May be a year late but I get there in the end. Thanks, Mystery Greyface. Doctah! @theta-x We've got goodies!"

[thoughtfulpersonadeputydean]

"Eres como subri a tomar aire fresco, como si me ahogara y tu me salvaras".

Aun me siento de esa forma, cuando te veo, esa sensación. Eres tu, siempre has sido tu.

Y quiero mas, de esto, de nosotros, quiero tener mas, tengamos mas.

[trashcangimmick]

*me, repeatedly slapping a table* TENTACLES, TENTACLES, TENTACLES, TENTACLES, TEN--

WELL SHIT I WAS GONNA WAIT TO POST IT TILL THE WEEKEND BUT IF YOU’RE GONNA BE LIKE THAT ABOUT IT, HERE YA GO. SEASON THREE SPOILERS AHEAD.

***

“Hey, Harrington.”

Steve jolts awake. Heart pounding with adrenaline. He knows that voice. Knows it way too well. 

He must have fallen asleep on his couch. It was a long night. His face is still fucked up. His everything is still fucked up. He managed to shower and change into sweatpants. Exhausted but too freaked out to sleep. He was watching cartoons. Wondering if maybe he could erase the past twenty-four hours from his mind if he drank enough. 

Maybe he’s still asleep. Definitely still a little drunk. Because Billy Hargrove is standing over him, in a ripped up tank top that’s drenched with black blood. 

Billy Hargrove is dead. Steve watched it happen. Watched those awful, fleshy tentacles rip into Billy’s body. Standing too far away to do anything about it. Screaming. Half sobbing. But he’s pretty sure nobody heard him in the rest of the commotion. 

“You’re dead… ?” Is what Steve says. Because what the fuck else does he say?

“Nah.” Billy cracks his neck. “Just took a little nap.”

Read More On AO3 (MIND THE FREAKIN THE TAGS)

[nehswritesstuffs]

Prompt, how about Malcolm has a problem, he sleep walks and it's a problem for his partner. Don't mind pairings, Malcolm /Clara, Malcolm /Julius, Malcolm /Kate.

How about that first one?

2751 words; takes place in The Other Director ofCommunications saga, around Spring of 2012; please remember that using the word“partner” when talking about a romantically-involved pair lessens the emotionalimpact of the relationship, so please if you’re talking about the love ofsomeone’s life then regard that fact appropriately instead of with such a coldword; this was sidetracked by my brain being out of commission for a bit via abad head cold so please forgive me if it sounds weird; takes place during theDreaded S4 timeline; there’s a note at the end too but not of much consequence

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Knocking back the bitter remains of his third coffee of theday, Malcolm wondered why the fuck he was so fucking knackered. He didn’t need this, not now—not with the run-up to theOlympics making it so that everything was getting fucking scrutinized from topto fucking bottom. Growing paranoia over the elections making the Party now theNumber Two in British politics made the stress compound twofold, which was farfrom what he needed to deal with. More international journalists were cominginto the country, staking their claims early so that they would be ready whenthe Olympic Flame would fly in and then la-dee-fucking-dah, everyone wouldpretend to hate each other a little less for about a month. It was fuckingridiculous.

Subtle at this point, but his position did not change.

“Sam! Do we have any more coffee? Mine’s done!” Thissummoned his PA, who stared at him from the safety of his office’s doorway.

“It’s lunchtime, Malcolm. If you don’t get some food in youinstead of coffee, Clara will have my hide.”

“I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Take a nap then.”

“It won’t be a nap—it’ll be a fucking coma.”

“Suit yourself.” Sam went back into her portion of theoffice and shook her head—something wasn’t right and a quick send-off of an owllater, she obliged and sent a beaker of the strongest coffee outside of a navaltanker floating towards her boss’s desk.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was like coming home to madness.

Sam’s letter had been what should have been warning enough,but she didn’t think it would be this bad. The cookware had decided to getstarted on dinner without her, which then prompted the vacuum cleaner, theradio, the television, the record player, the mop, a broom, and the duster toall get to work as well. She stepped out of the fireplace to see thateverything was in disarray, with a small fire even occurring in the one panthat the duster, of all things, wasattempting to put out… all while Malcolm slept on the couch, completelyoblivious to his surroundings.

A flick of her wand and everything stopped what it was doingand put itself away. Even the small pan-fire was put out before it couldtrigger the smoke alarm, which Clara wouldn’t’ve minded if she was honest withherself. At least it would’ve woken up Malcolm, who seemed completely dead tothe world despite the small snores coming from him.

She sat down on his middle and he jolted awake, his snorechanging mid-way into a cough. Soon as he caught his bearings, Malcolm lookedup and saw Clara’s face, instantly seeing that she was not happy.

“Fuck; what time is it?”

“Eight-thirty.”

He allowed his head to fall back on the cushion and groanedbefore sniffing curiously. “What’s that smell?”

“Fire—the kitchen decided to make dinner and it was notedible.”

“Shit.” Malcolm shook his head, clearly irritated withhimself. “I was only gonna take a short kip.”

“I believe you, though I’m not entirely sure how thecookware decided to get going without you being in there,” she mused. “Didn’trealize you were so tired lately and wrote it off as just pressure buildingsince that Times piece…”

“No… something else,” he said. His wife moved from his chestto the end of the couch, moving to put his head in her lap. As she stroked hishair, he leaned into her touch, craving it more than he did sleep. “It’s acoincidence, yeah, but a fucking eerie one if ever…”

“We’ll get you settled tonight, yeah?” she cooed. Hiswedding ring floated over from the mantle and she slid it on his finger. “There;doesn’t that feel better?”

“Leagues.”

“Now, let’s get dinner going before it’s too late. We needyou in bed by a decent hour or else our Sam is never going to let me hear theend of it.”

“Sam’ll be fine…”

“…once her boss is back to normal. Honestly, Malcolm, she’dbe better off working for me—at least I don’t need minding like some overgrownGlaswegian child.”

“You fucking take that back!” he laughed, maneuvering sothat he could get up on his knees and snog his wife. He tickled her sidesmid-kiss, which made her squeal as she pushed him away. He was rejuvenated morethan either could have wished for back when Sam had sent Clara the warningletter, which was now completely wiped from their consciousnesses… for the timebeing.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

That night, Clara could have swore Malcolm had gotten up touse the loo and never came back, yet her sleepy hubby in her arms when she wokeproved otherwise. Huh… weird.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Granted, it wasn’t precisely a normal at-work meeting.Having already gotten the run-around and enough granola-coated New Age bullshitto fill a fucking well of hopes and dreams out of Stewart Pearson, Clara hadgotten the go-ahead from Shacklebolt to head on over to Her Majesty’s LoyalOpposition and ask if they werewilling to help co-sponsor the Muggle-born Acclimation Program in the Government’sstead. Malcolm, she knew, could spin whatever she said so that Murray couldeither understand or approve of—potentially, both!—and it was a shame that shecouldn’t’ve gone straight to them to begin with. It was to be a productivemorning, to say the least, even if all she got was that she had backing bylunchtime.

Soon as she stepped inside the building something felt a bitoff. There wasn’t the usual amount of terror in place for the naturalenvironment of Malcolm Tucker… it was, dare she say it, less. She didn’t let anyone know things weren’t right, however, asshe kept her head held high and her gait strong as she attempted to stay pacewith all the long-legged individuals as they made their way to the lift.

One lift-ride and a check-in at the desk later and Clara waswalking into Nicola Murray’s office. She had a decent part of her Statute-awareteam in that day: Malcolm, that Reeder slime, and the woman she had only metonce before. Hatley? Yes, Hatley.

“Ah, there you are,” Murray said soon as Clara walked in.“Olly, Helen, Malcolm, you’ve met Clara Oswald, the… erm… Other Director of Communications.”

“It’s been a while, Miss Oswald,” Reeder grinned. The way heeyed Clara made her wonder what miracle happened to make it so that he hadn’tbeen slapped with several restraining orders and the sack. It honestly made herfeel for every marginally-attractive woman whom he came across on aforever-basis, which she was certain was too many for comfort. “Have you beenavoiding us since we’re no longer the ones technically in charge?”

“It’s MissusOswald now, and just you,” she replied. She enjoyed watching Reeder flounderfor an appropriate expression, made all the better by catching Murray andHatley trying not to laugh out loud. If only she could have given him theentire story as to whom she was married to—now that would have been a spectacle nearly worth the trouble—just nearly. “So, to the point of ourmeeting: a possible co-funding of our MAP Initiative, as having Muggle input andauthority would create something leagues more legitimate.”

“I like the sound of it, but wouldn’t it be better going tothe Government?” Murray wondered. “I’m willing to step on toes if I have to,but I want to know that it’s necessary first.”

“Pearson is a tit that doesn’t think it’s environmentallyfriendly to wipe his own arse—trust me when I say that I’ll get much further inthe planning process with half an hour amongst the Loyal Opposition than thesame amount of time with him.”

“The PM didn’t want it?” Hatley asked, her expression equalparts confusion and worry.

“I didn’t even get pastPearson—that’s how bad it is,” Clara replied. “Both the PM and Pearson haveknowledge of the MAP Initiative and what it could do for Muggle-born Britons. MinisterShacklebolt and I have both made our cases and it doesn’t seem like somethingthey want to pick it up except maybe as an afterthought if they can find someroom between their pet projects and bloated spending bills. Over sixty-millionpeople and they feel like ignoring a significant section of them? A sectionthat can bring them back to nappies with a flick of the wrist and a simpleincantation? I want them to regret it.”

“How do we do that though?” Murray asked. She turned toMalcolm, who thus far said nothing. “Malcolm? What do you think?”

Everyone glanced over towards Malcolm to see that he wasstill sitting against a filing cabinet in a sort of half-lean, his arms foldedand his eyes glazed over. Olly waved his hand in front of the older man’s faceand cringed.

“Shit—he’s not responding! Should we call 999?” He alreadyhad his mobile out, yet Clara put her hand on it and forced it down.

“No, don’t,” she ordered. “He’s breathing, see?” Sheapproached him cautiously, her brow furrowing in confusion. “He’s… sleeping…?”

“That’s some freaky shit,” Olly cringed, taking a large stepaway from the Scot.

“Is it dangerous to wake someone like that?” Murray asked.There was genuine concern in her voice, which Clara noted for later.

“Whatever the case may be, Malcolm likely should be leftalone,” Hatley said. “We’ll probably get more done without his butting inanyhow.”

“Hmm… I wonder…” Clara mused aloud. She pulled her wand outof her suit jacket and bit her lower lip as she thought. Carefully, she pressedthe tip of the wand to the center of her husband’s forehead, holding steady asshe let her magic probe him. No one else seemed to even breathe as she did so,giving her complete and total silence.

Ah-ha, there.

After twisting her wrist, Clara pulled her wand away with aflourish, yanking the spell out of him through his eyes and mouth. She flung itacross the room and saw that it was a shadowy, near-ghoulish creature, thoughtoo non-corporeal to be properly called such. It attempted to retaliate and shebanished it instead, sending the spell-creature to what she hoped was somewherearound an uninhabited island in the Orkneys. She heard Malcolm gasp as heregained his self-awareness, prompting her to move quickly so that he couldcollapse into her shoulder.

“I think we need to reschedule this for another time,” Clarasaid. She placed Malcolm—now unconscious—onto a chair and smoothed out herjacket, attempting to look as though she was as inconvenienced as possible. “Ishall take Mister Tucker with me to Saint Mungo’s and have some tests run onhim; that wasn’t an ordinary spell.”

“How will you get him to Saint Mangoes without anyoneknowing what’s wrong?” Reeder asked. Clara looked and saw he was now quite faraway, nearly on the opposite side of the office.

“A simple enchantment, which won’t cover up any other magicthat has been done to him recently,” she explained. She then turned towardsMurray and Hatley, giving them a small nod. “He should be back within the week—claimhe’s off having a shout somewhere local.That’ll scare off anyone into not asking… though tell his PA the truth, asshe’s aware of things. When’s your next available appointment?”

“Friday at two,” Murray said, her voice small in horror.“Are… are you sure he’s going to bealright?”

“I’ve known him for long enough to know that he’ll bounceback from this,” Clara said, keeping things ambiguous. She then turned towardsMalcolm, swished her wand, and he opened his eyes again, silently standing up.Although he looked more awake and alert, he was certainly far from it as hescowled and placed his hands in his pockets. “I will see you ladies on Fridaythen.”

After getting Malcolm out of the building, Clara actedquickly and got him into the nearest alleyway she could in order to Apparateinto Saint Mungo’s. She brought him directly to Receiving and was able to gethim up to one of the Fourth Floor’s temporary wards quickly. It was there thata kindly Pakistani wizard told her precisely what she had feared: that thing that she had forcibly pulled fromhim wasn’t a ghoul or a simple spell gone awry, but a curse meant to look like something else.

“I’ve seen magic like this at home, but not since I was aboy—before the Partition—this is dark, dark-heartedmagic,” he explained. The ward was nearly empty, save for them, the sleepingMalcolm, and a witch who was cleaning on the other end. “You’re lucky that you banishedit without irreparable damage done to your husband. Tell me: when did thesleepwalking begin?”

Clara scrunched her nose. “Sleepwalking?”

“Yes; this curse is meant to wear someone out while theysleep, not allowing them time to get much-needed rest. It usually kills withintwo weeks.”

“Malcolm has been sleeping at work a lot lately, so I couldn’tsay,” she frowned. “He usually gets up in the middle of the night at least onceanyhow—he’s getting to that part of life.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want this sort of curseplaced on him?” the Healer asked. “Last I paid attention, this sort of cursewas outlawed in use against Muggles.”

“A vast majority of Malcolm’s potential enemies are Muggleslike him,” she replied. “There aren’t that many Squibs on his bad side, andmagical folk just plain stay away from him.” She pondered things for a moment,trying to piece things together. “It might’ve been at the press conference heneeded to attend last week; there were plenty of international people there.”

“The secrets that involve this curse have spread far beyond thehills where I grew up, for reasons I hope do not need explaining,” the Healersaid, shaking his head. “You must rule out no one if you wish to treat this asan attack and not an accident. Shall I alert the Auror Office or do you wishto?”

“I will—Potter owes me anyhow,” Clara said. She thanked theHealer and signed off on some paperwork before she was left alone with herhusband. Cursing the fact that her mobile wouldn’t work inside the hospital,she pulled a book out of her bag and began to read. At least she could catch upon something, and the owl that hadcome in the meantime from Sam said that everything was being taken care of inMalcolm’s office by either her or Jamie, with threat of Tucker’s Unknown Returnenough to keep people in line for the time being.

It was nearly past teatime before Malcolm began to stir. Claraput her cuppa down on the side table and gently held his shoulder in placewhile she held his hand with her free one.

“Hey, don’t get up,” she said gently.

“Where the fuck amI?” he asked, his voice little more than a slurring mumble.

“Saint Mungo’s; someone placed a curse on you that made itso that you were sleepwalking so much it nearly negated all rest you normallywould’ve gotten at night.”

“How did you…?”

“Sam went in and modified everyone else’s memories to makeit so that you had an emergency in some shire and I was called back to myoffice on account of a snap reshuffle—clearly neither of these things are true.”

“I was… cursed…?”

“Yes—I contacted the Auror Office and they’re going to put ateam on it. Whether you’re connected to me or not, you’re a high-ranking memberof a major Muggle political party—the Opposition, even—and it needs to be lookedinto while you recover.”

“Fuck, does that mean I have to talk to that Worst Witch goon squad?”

Clara blinked at that. “Uh… yes, eventually. I guess themore pressing question right now is how you know about The Worst Witch…”

“Just because I’m a man doesn’t make me an idiot,” he chuckled. “Thought Tash mightlike them… when He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaledslowly, falling back asleep with ease. Clara kissed the back of his hand andput it down, letting him rest in silence.

His sense of humor was still there—things weren’t too dire after all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: I find it extremely interesting that The Worst Witch predates the Harry Potter franchise by quite a bit. I’dthink that the adventures of Millie Hubble would be rather popular in the HPverse, though in a different way than in real life (as in, I’m sure thatHermione read the first three before starting Hogwarts and therefore had very clear expectations for her futureschooling that both came to fruition and were wildly inaccurate).

[candomblemistress]

yes!!!! Yes you treat her with the respect she DESERVES, she has such a rich character and motivations and culture and she’s far more complex than she was treated, as just this manipulative foil ruining the MEN and no!!! It’s not about them!!! And no on the white washing, SERIOUSLY so thank you!!!

[timelxrd-victorious]

Anonymous asked:  What was the last wet dream you had? Who was it about? Can you describe it in detail for us?

Send my muse prying asks about anything and everything || Accepting

“That’s private and none of your business! But… since you asked…

    “…Rose. It was about Rose. I… She…

    “I’ve been traveling on my own for a long while, haven’t crossed my own timestream to see a younger Rose or met an alternate version of her, honest. But…

     “My TARDIS had taken me to this… terraformed moon absolutely covered in trees—or maybe it was some forest on Earth, I don’t know, didn’t care. It was a warm summer night—again, don’t ask how I knew, and there was a little stream running nearby—it looked silver in the moonlight. And I… I could have sworn I heard her voice calling to me, telling me to come to her… but I couldn’t see her.

     “I walked forward toward the stream, and… there she was, sitting on a boulder near the water. Rassilon, she looked… beautiful—cliché, I know, but there it was—and not just for a human either, mind you. But one moment she hadn’t been there and then she was and she looked oh so real…

    “But that’s not what you want to hear about, right? No, you want to know how I shagged her. Fine. So I’ll skip through how she slid off that rock and glided over to me on bare feet with a gray-and-white dress hugging her every curve, how she stood on her toes once she stopped in front of me to wrap her hands around my neck and kiss me, to whisper in my ear for me to give my hearts to her, that she’d missed me… Call me an idiot, but I believed her, didn’t question it, didn’t want to think about how she’d gotten there or why she was dressed the way she was.

    “I untangled myself from her, took her hand and led her back to my TARDIS, to my room. She was finally here with me, where she should always have been—but younger, stupid me had been too selfish to realize that. Anyway. Clothes were soon on the floor and all that, and then I was lying on my bed looking up at her as she crawled up my body. Rose kissed my throat, my mouth; and my hands couldn’t stop skimming over her sides, her back, feeling her warm, human skin as I returned her kiss…

     “She’d been waiting for my touch for years, she said. She’d dreamed of it, was tired of crying each and every night… I didn’t argue—I needed her, couldn’t let her go, wanted her exploring every inch of me and then return the favor to her…

     “Then she slowly ground her hips against mine; I moaned into her mouth, felt myself harden. Rose broke the kiss and smirked at me, her eyes flashing wickedly before she lifted her hips and sank down on my cock. oh, she felt like fire, like velvet—and my hands grasped her thighs, her hips as she began to move, my nails digging into her skin.

      “Her hands slid down my chest, then stopped. One rested over one of my hearts; the other fondled her own breast. I thrust up into her at the sight—already I was gone, so far gone and so very close… She was too—she had to be—and when she ordered me to come…

     “I held her close afterward, the both of us lying on our sides, trailed kisses over her skin and whispered to her three words I’d never had the chance to tell her. You’ve got to understand: one moment she was a ghost, a memory; the next she was there and it was oh so real…

     “She couldn’t leave me, not again; I needed her, loved her; she’d promised me forever—she was mine and she belonged to me. …

      “She was there when I fell asleep—I swear.

      “When I woke up, her name was on my lips. I reached over, telling her to wake up… only to find her side of the bed empty and cold.  I was in my pajamas, my suit carefully folded on the back of a chair. Her dress was nowhere to be seen. No, that couldn’t have been right. It had been so real… I’d held her, made love to her, told her I’d loved her. …

       “And she had never been there at all. She was gone. Forever. And I’d always been too weak to say the words.”