#AND SHE'S SMILING

[uroborosymphony]

Their time, being endless, does feel suspended whenever Calista basks in Sarang's presence ; in Sarang's voice. Time is counted. Time is singular. Time is running out. Is it how it feels, to feel alive? To be alive? This silent fear is grabbing her by the throat, this rush, this need for a moment with her to never end, praying for it to remain inifite, one she wishes to exist in as long as she can. The lamia's pull towards the huntress was undeniable, the constant seek of her eyes to connect with, the silent dreams of her touch. Was it real? A reality anchoring Calista in ways she never thought she would be, her desire to die fading slowly. There was something running under her skin, electrifying, a state the Lamia hasn't felt in centuries, from before she turns into an apocalypse bringer from the seven hells. A smile lingers on Calista's lips as the other's words find their way to her soul. Her features that are usually so cold and stern and harsh, now wear a shy, demure, genuine smile - Calista's rare bliss and desire - as she wanted more and more even though she did not know how to fully express herself when it came to something as gentle and pure, as these pieces of intimacy shared with Sarang. Her wrists now in the other's fingers, the Lamia's skin in leaning into Sarang's touch, craving for it. Came a slow laughter from Calista's lips as her huntress does mention the place she hit her in. "Mmm have I?" Calista replies in a whisper - perhaps amused, fascinated by how grand violence from each other turned into such care now. And she listens, to every single word landing, her golden eyes following her hand guided through Sarang's skin. It felt almost innocent, the shivers under Calista's fingers tips, caressing the huntress' temple before leading to her throat, to her heart. Every single piece of her is a gift, wrapped with words that have never been adressed to the Lamia before. And at this words, of devotion, Calista's smile keeps on growing as her lips are pressed together. The creature's heartbeat was usually monotonously slow, dormant, like a serpent, even in moments of manic madness, there was a terrifying and cold calmness to her. It only was Sarang's words and touch that could make her entire heart and veins and soul race in this frantic way, only.

"All the places I have hit you made me feel you in ways no other soul has. I was possessive, in my violence, I did not want any other sword to cut your skin as deep if not mine. I did not want any other soldier I encountered to make me shiver the way you have." First answers Calista, her fangs digging into her bottom lip. "To penetrate your layers with my rage only lead to me, on this day, to adore every inch of your skin, my Renagade and Runaway." Calista's voice echoes timidly, her fingers then tightening over Sarang's chest, her desire for her building,on each spoken word that felt like a confession. Words she never imagined herself speaking as she closes the distance between their, even more than it already was, her body slightly pressed against hers.

"I think... I have for the first time, devoted myself too. I offered a piece of my dead soul to Life, as I saw Life through you. To the point of wanting to celebrate my day of birth with you... It must be." Her eyes are intense never leave Sarang's. "I will admit, I don't quite understand what it is that's taking over me, Huntress. " Calista adds, her fingers then moving down Sarang's side, cascading down her waist and hips to reach for her hand to hold. "I simply know that you offering me yourself, body and soul, only makes me want to explore you in ways the Gods wouldn't approve of." The lamia then states, her fingers lacing with Sarang's, the other now exploring Sarang's jaw to cheekbone, seizing the base of her neck, watching her still. "Let's take the road now? I wish to open on this earth the deepest hells, but before that, I don't want anything to disturb my heavens in the forest with you."

CONTINUTION FROM HERE. ft. @mythvoiced

[hinamie]

matching eye horror for u and ur back-from-the-dead bestie <333

[lilbreadbun]

And then I noticed that jinx’s balloon she flies in on has bunny ears painted on it. And markings on the side to match her little goggles

Pain. Suffering even

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanny is actually pretty scary in FNAF..

[gieoki]

sadie hawkman’s dance when?!

[8dayrain]

first day of school

[toodrunktofindaurl]

"Death's child"

twitter | bluesky | insta | 🔞 patre*n

[demaparbat-hp]

There is no such thing as personal space between them.

[catsbeaversandducks]

By oreo & monkey

[s0fter-sin]

alpha!ghost who's always hated the sound of an omega's purr; he’s always found it patronising, manipulative, an attempt to twist his biology - twist him - into submission like he's some animal

until he hears soap purr for the first time and it's about as choppy and comforting as a machine gun. there's nothing smooth about it, nothing seductive or wily; it's broken and guttural and the most honest noise ghost's ever heard outside his own growls

he doesn't use it to coo him into complacency, doesn't try to bend him to his will or smooth over his bristles. he's never tried to distract ghost from his anger, never used his intrinsic control over him to gentle him. hell, he seems to forget he can even do it, ghost hears it so rarely. it's only a touch above his growls, subharmonic and demanding attention instead of the pretty titter of a pampered omega

ghost hears it for the first time when he’s covered in blood not his, after he slits an enemy pinning him down from navel to chin; dark blood instantly soaking him. the body’s practically cool with blood loss already when he tosses it aside and rolls to his feet to find soap stock still, staring at him with a feral gleam in his eyes

he drops his jaw with a deep inhale, rolling the scent of blood and pissed alpha pheromones in his mouth and his chest rumbles with all the subtlety of a chainsaw

it's suddenly all ghost can do to keep himself from dragging the body and dropping it at soap's feet like a courting gift of old; to carve out his heart and rich organs and present them for his approval, to hold them to his mouth and never break eye contact as he takes his first bloody bite

ghost shakes it off, strangling the chuff trying to claw out his throat, and heads for the rv point and feels absolutely nothing when soap falls into step behind him without a word; his purr that more closely mimics an alpha's rumble an echoing memory

soap's far from a meek, compliant omega and he's no conniving prince wrapping alphas around his finger either; he's just as much a protector, an aggressor, as any alpha. he's never been ashamed of his instincts; never shied away from nuzzling into price's throat, purring for his pack alpha with no regard to the uncomfortable crowd surrounding them. never hesitates to wrap gaz up and drop him in his nest when the beta reeks of stress and sickly insomnia

and he never stops himself from baring his fangs with a guttural hiss whenever another omega dares to purr at ghost

it's a threat and a warning in one; something only the most foolish omega would ignore. he knows ghost has a complex relationship with omegas, knows it isn't something so pathetic as biological prejudice. something about omegas makes his lt's scent go flat and steely, as close to distress as he thinks he can manage and it makes something dark and old rise in his chest

territorial rage broils off him, strong enough to make the omega whine and back off with their tail between their legs without even taking a step towards them. the scent is sour and pungent enough to drown out ghost's subtle distressed smell, to hide it, and it makes him snort; shaking his head to try and clear it

soap all but trots up beside him, chirping in greeting. he sneezes playfully, lets him know the rage scent wasn't for him; never for him. he replaces it with happy-friend-pack, replaces it with nitroglycerin and burning sparklers and butts his forehead against his sternum instead of crowding into his throat and purring the way he wants to

he earned his way into ghost's pack, into becoming an omega not just accepted but welcomed and he won't jeopardise his hard won progress by pushing his purr on him

he lifts his head and grins as ghost cups his nape in a faux-scruff, something offensive and borderline taboo and if he were anyone else, he'd rip his hand off with his teeth. but it's ghost and ghost does strange things, things that reassure him on a deeper level than any purr or chirp could ever hope to, so soap presses into his gentling hand and bares his teeth in the thinnest facsimile of a smile at the retreating omega

all ghost has to do is aim him in the right direction and he'd bring the omega back to him in pieces; would gift him their torn out throat so they could never purr at him again

his chest rumbles subconsciously and soap gnashes his teeth, forcing his purr back down when ghost squeezes his nape

he thumps his temple into his and a puff of air tickles his ear, the closest thing soap's ever heard to a chuff from him and he couldn't stop his purr if he tried; choppy and broken as it is

you inhale enough explosive fumes and it's bound to damage something

ghost huffs again and soap presses up to nibble appeasingly at his clothed jaw, a question and an apology in each bite

ghost just takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, shaking it with a teasing growl and soap laughs as he tackles him just for ghost to bow over his back and wrap his arms around his waist; effortlessly picking him up and tossing him away

soap stays low and growls right back, a wild smile splitting his face. ghost meets him with a sneeze and his grin grows impossibly wider

if he can't hunt for his alpha, can't purr for him with blood on his teeth, he'll happily wrestle with him instead

[bachelor4choice]

Caitlyn Kiramman, your game will be legendary

[acid-ringtone]

Love god mabel 💘

[clownzaf]

No one in the family understands the connection between Tim and Talia, not even Damian.

Talia would be in Gotham to visit Damian and will fight and disagree with every movement of Tim’s like a disappointed mother, but the moment Tim get distressed or even a little bit upset Talia will be tripping onto herself to be with the boy.

They think Talia adopted the boy like she did with Jason.

They absolutely don’t know that Tim has long ago accepted Ra’s invitations for dinner, (even if it’s only to ensure the safety of his family and friends from the league of assassins) and Ra’s has long ago since pseudo-adopted Tim. He will call to ask about his day, and give shovel talks to his partners via assassins, and just simply drop to his apartment to watch a movie.

He is still trying to get Tim as his heir but eventually decided to drop the ball (for now). He kept Tim tho, at this point he simply grew fond of the boy.

One time Tim spent a entire week training with the league—It was a plan of Ra’s to make him see what he could have if he joined him and Tim agreed only for the extra training and maybe he could get some extra intel just in case— and in that week he became friends with Talia. They were practically siblings right now and it was useful for both parties. Tim would tell Talia all about Damian, even the specific details (Like his favorite breakfast food, one thing in particular he gained interest recently or if he made any new friends in school) and Talia would train him to the best of his capabilities. It also made “Family dinners” a lot less awkward. He has come to be quite fond of Ra’s over the time but sometimes it was better to have someone a little bit younger to talk to and not just the 6000 years old man.

So, now every time Talia drops to the manor to say hi—Knowing things about Damian or the family that she shouldn’t know— she always ends up in a corner watching TikTok’s in Tim’s phone and petting his hair like it’s something that happens everyday.

Damian and Jason were furious about this, it was THEIR mom/mentor and it was unfair for Tim to take that away like everything else in their life.

But they don’t suspect anything else until one day they are invited to have a formal dinner with the Al Ghul’s, just to find Timothy Drake-Wayne (Al Ghul) already in the table dressed in a green silk robe with golden accents chatting with the ninjas in the walls like they are good friends and kicking Ra’s down the table.

It was in fact the most uncomfortable dinner ever, even more so because Tim refused to give them more information about any of this more than a “I’m still in the good side don’t worry”

[spineless-lobster]

WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT HER????? EVERYONE LETS TALK ABOUT MY GIRL ECHO!!!!!!!!

[shandzii]

Hey I enjoyed your Fishbun art, do u happen to have anymore to share perphans? Pretty please?

I think he loves his wife guys

Imma spread zerum support when I can bc she is genuinely a nice person, coming from someone who actually talks to her asdfghj

[heilos]

I have to talk about this scene cause it's driving me crazy. The juxtaposition of how painful the doom power transformations are for Shadow and the sheer power high and glee he gets for just a moment after acquiring his final ability, the Doom Wing, to the point of smiling about it is doing things to my brain. Not to mention that one quick line where he says "I feel...complete" had me lose it. We know he's only gaining these abilities as a means to defeat Black Doom. We know he hates the fact that he's part Black Arms just from what we saw in Shadow Dark Beginnings. And we know he has no choice but to keep collecting these powers even though every time he unlocks one he's pleading "No" over and over again. He doesn't want to do this and yet every power feels right to him because of his DNA and that must mess with his head so much.