#I'm shaken

[paradeie]

Listening to Daybreaker Anthem in-game is a spiritual experience, I think. WOW. I got chills when they started singing Anarchy Rainbow. So, so beautiful. It's like the whole world is greeting the morning sun…

The Splatoon OST just keeps on delivering aaargh!! I've gotta hang around after Splatfests now…

[sleepyjuniper]

I just had two dreams in quick succession that had me groggily coming out of them with tears in my eyes. Both of them centered around some symbol that was clearly of importance to me, but that I don't actually recognize. One I saved from its own guilt so I could embrace it again, and the other I tried to nurture back to health when she was on her last limb. Both dreams spoke to how much I cared about the figures in them— but I don't know that fox, I don't know that tree. Why did I want to reconnect with them so badly? Why did I want to save them so badly?

[nanabanonana]

this is horrific.

[vatican-penis-vault]

I did NOT just find out that there is a DC character called Milkman Man, who was conceived because two "unreal" women kissed? And then he was a villain in an arc called Milk Wars?????

And Gerard Way helped create him????????

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[paintbrushnebula]

Ok. I'm officially scared, now.

DISCLAIMER (9/18/24): THIS NEWS IS FAKE. The article that these news sites were spreading (@TheInSneider on Twitter) has been confirmed false by executive producer/co-writer Christopher Miller and composer Daniel Pemberton.

Chrisopher Miller on Twitter:

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[telleroftime]

Is he. Holding them. By their f*cking hand? Is HE. Holding THEM. By their F*CKING HAND??? DO MY EYES DECEIVE ME OR IS SUKUNA HOLDING URAUME'S HAND??????

[seriowan]

don't mind me just foaming at the mouth while i wish this was me

The Vacation (1/4)

I shared a sexy blurg the other day, but felt it really needed a bit of before and after, so here's how that vacation starts. This is a section from a much, much longer fic that may or may not be fully shared, but the important info is that Crosshair went off on his own after season 1, and the OC (Alya) used to be with Hunter, but after getting captured by the Empire, she was pretty messed up and couldn't stay with him, thus began traveling with Crosshair. By this time, they've been working together for about a year, purely platonic (they share a bed for nightmare reasons and because I like cuddles).

Pairing: Crosshair x Female Original Character (Alya)

WC: 5.4k

Summary: After a perilous mission, Crosshair surprises Alya with a vacation, and Alya surprises Crosshair with feelings.

Rating: Explicit 18+, language, vague references to negative experiences in past relationship (kinda?)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. So much smut, fingering, some overstimulation, a touch of self-deprecation . Reference to negative previous relationship, but it's pretty vague. Even a bit of aftercare. It's a smut chapter to start more smut chapters. Seriously.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I’d only just finished unpacking my supplies when I felt the ship rumble to life. The several weeks this job had granted us the use of an actual house had been… different. So many years had passed since that was a normal part of life. It was bittersweet to have had that again for such a short amount of time, but returning to the familiar rooms of the ship was its own comfort. The Event Horizon had become synonymous with home, and, despite the lingering desire to return to a life comforted by the routine of waking to the same atmosphere, the same view of sprawling hills or cozy neighborhoods, I knew none of it was worth trading the life I’d created here.

At the subtle lurch of entering hyperspace, I turned my attention down the hall toward the cockpit, just able to see a glimpse of pale hair around the headrest of the pilot’s chair. Last time we left before refueling, it was because I’d been recognized, forcing us to flee. The last job had been wrought with near disaster, but I didn’t think there was any threat of being reported, but the mere possibility set my heart racing.

“You… didn’t want to stock up first?” I felt the hesitation in my voice, testing his response before risking any theories.

“No.” He said nothing more, despite the several seconds of silence that followed.

“O..kay…” I muttered, studying him, searching for any hint of his motives. “Got us in lightspeed pretty quickly… Do you… already have a destination in mind, or”

“Yes.” He interrupted. Again, I waited, but his façade remained perfectly emotionless.

“Crosshair.” I finally grumbled, patience dwindling. Finally, the edges of his lips hinted at the beginnings of a smirk, and I let out a huff of breath. No danger – he was just toying with me. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” I stated indifferently and turned to leave the cockpit. His hand instantly darted back to catch my wrist, eyes rolling before nodding to the nav screen. My impatience instantly fled beneath the confusion.

“Alderaan?” The name left my lips in a question. “You found a job on Alderaan?” For the briefest moment, doubt touched those steadfast eyes and he turned back to the streams of passing stars dancing beyond the viewport, hand tightened briefly around my wrist before letting go.

“Figured we’d… ‘take some time’.” The way he said the words made me pause. Familiar. Why did… My lips parted in a silent gasp, heat flooding my chest. The planet of beauty. How many months – years – had passed since I’d asked him that – if he ever took time to enjoy the beauty of visiting foreign lands? “Unless you’ve had your fill of that planet. Just figured we hadn’t really stopped to… how did you put it? ‘Appreciate’ things like that.” I was silent a moment longer; stunned. “Or we’ll just”

“No-no!” I finally sputtered, lips pulling in a wide grin. “That… sounds perfect, Cross… Thank you.” I watched the back of his neck flush as he let out a small grunt. Forcing myself to ignore the flood of affection at the mere sight if it, I dropped lightly into the copilot’s seat, smile still plastered over my lips.

“I was only there for a few days – barely saw anything more than snow. Have you already chosen a place?” Knees tucking to my chest, I turned to find him watching me from the corner of his eyes, smirk once more just touching his lips.

“You could say that.” He nearly purred, and a quiet laughter escaped me.

“Mr Tough Guy vying for a vacation.” I teased, nose crinkling slightly.

“Figured we earned it after that.” He dismissed. My smile almost fell, but I forced it back. I wouldn’t let the memory of what had almost happened darken my excitement.

“How long were you thinking?” I asked, voice quieting slightly. He seemed to hesitate before answering.

“Figure we can leave if we get bored sooner, but… I booked a place for a month.” There was an uncertainty in his voice that I’d focus on soon, but… a month. He shifted slightly beneath my stare. “Never had more than a few days between missions,” He explained stiffly, “Thought I’d see what the fuss was about.” A month. No jobs, no fights. Just a month on Alderaan. With him. I thought my heart was going to tear through my chest.

“And what if it spoils you?” I asked coyly, a cheeky grin stretching across my lips. He cocked an eyebrow and glanced sideways at me. “What if you find you like that life so much, you never want to go back?”

“Then I’ll extend the rental.” He replied blankly, earning a fresh huff of laughter from me. I let myself lean back, gaze turning blindly to the blurs of hyperspace before me.

-

The breath caught in my throat as his hand crept up my side, fire seeping through my flesh in the wake of his lingering touch. I could taste the heat of him filling the air between us and let myself reach for him, fingers roaming up the sweeping planes of his tone chest, over the taut ridges of muscled shoulders, core igniting at the heat of bare skin pressing against mine. Letting one arm lock around my hips, holding me tightly against him, his other hand slid up my neck, clawing into my hair. I felt the eagerness of him, heard the tension in his faltering breaths as he strained for control; felt the paltry breadth of distance between us as I felt myself stretching up to find him, breath catching in a whimper as I breathed his name, and I burned beneath him. I needed to feel him against me; my hands on his chest, my legs around his hips.

Alya. My name on his lips. Alya, come on… open your eyes. His lips on

“Need to wake up.” My eyes flew open, chest trembling beneath rushed breaths, skin damp with sweat, and, when I saw him, when those weary golden eyes met mine in the darkness, I couldn’t help but gasp, shying further into the arm wrapped around my shoulder as though those few inches would erase the lingering heat from that dream. Instantly, he pulled away, straining to create some hint of distance between us.

“Just a nightmare, Alya.” He murmured, all weariness fleeing him. Lip caught between my teeth, I had to turn away, the memory of his touch still echoing over my skin, straining to force myself under control, to breathe. “Alya?” I couldn’t help but flinch, too eager to hear my name on his lips again… but the horror that stole over him left me floundering.

“Was it… was it about me?” He barely managed to whisper the words. I don’t think I’d ever seen that kind of raw hurt in his eyes before… not without a careful layer of anger, disinterest. No, this was just hurt. “I…” His lips shifted wordlessly, pulling even further from me, and my heart dropped.

“N- wait… wait.” I pleaded, letting myself turn into him. He didn’t move, body so impossibly still as he waited for me to touch him. I tried to speak, tried to form the words as my hands trembled in the miniscule space between us.

“It… was…” My fingers slipped over his jaw. “It was… about you.” I finally breathed, gaze locked on his as confusion settled over his face. My thumb trailed over the ridge of his cheekbone. “But it wasn’t a nightmare.” His frown deepened, struggling to make sense of my words, before his expression finally went blank. He didn’t move; didn’t speak, eyes burring into mine.

“Cross?” I felt so small suddenly, his name slipping from my lips in something too near a whimper, body trembling ever so faintly as I waited for some manner of response… some sign of what he was thinking.

Slowly, so impossibly slowly, his hands crept over mine, gaze never fleeing mine. Without a word, he leaned forward, and when his lips finally danced against mine I felt my heart lurch into my chest, fire tearing through me with such force, it wrenched a near silent sob of relief from my throat. So slowly, he kissed me, as though waiting for me to pull away, certain I’d refuse him if he but breathed too quickly, but I couldn’t think how to reassure him, body alight and stunned and desperate for every second of his touch.

His fingers slipped through mine, clutching my hands against him as his body swelled with a slow, deep breath, and I couldn’t silence the wisp of a moan from catching in my throat. As though that tiny sound had finally given him permission, he let himself reach for me, hands sliding up my arms, around my shoulders, tugging me closer to him. My fingers slipped through the soft velvet of his hair, lips parting as I begged him to kiss me deeper. Without hesitation, he slid his tongue against mine, wrenching another moan from me as that heat burst through my core.

I let my hands drag down his chest, savoring every shift of those powerful muscles as he pulled me closer, one arm looping beneath my head while his other locked around my back. My touch trailed lower, feeling the coiled muscles over his ribs seize with each stolen breath, fingers dancing against his spine as he slowly leaned over me, thrilled to find me all too eager to feel his weight press me into the mattress. Lower. I tugged impatiently at the bottom of his shirt, desperate for the heat of his skin against mine.

Panting, he pulled back, gazing at me drunkenly as his mouth worked silently over unspoken words for several seconds before letting his tongue dart over his lips. I felt myself reach for him, abs tensing to taste those lips once more, but forced myself to wait.

“Is this what you want?” He finally gasped. Jaw going taut as soon as the question escaped him. I could have sobbed from the warmth that shot through my chest. Nodding, I let myself lean up, lips locked into a smile as I kissed him. The air left him in something near a growl, movements growing almost frantic for the few seconds he let himself kiss me back before pressing his forehead to mine, forcing some whisper of air between us.

“Say it.” He nearly growled, pulling back enough to find my eyes once more. His hand reached up to brush over my cheek as I fought to remember how to speak, and I couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“Yes.” I finally breathed. “Crosshair… yes… yes… I want this – I want you.” Instantly, his lips crashed against mine, tongue hot and desperate and torturous, forcing a whimper from me as I pulled once more at his shirt. That growl caught in his throat as he leaned back onto his knees just long enough to wrench his shirt over his head, launching it thoughtlessly across the room before he was on me again.

That split second I saw him, the way his muscles rippled from that simple, rushed movement left me writhing, legs shifting eagerly beneath him as a desperate moan caught in my throat, vanishing against his lips. My hands roamed greedily over his exposed skin, delighting in the scolding heat burning against me.

“Wanna see you.” He snarled, hand dragging down my side, pausing against my hip to let his thumb slip under my shirt. The fresh burst of desperation from his touch wrenched a fresh moan from me, and I had to remember how to nod; how to breathe.

“Please… fuck, Cross, please.” I gasped, hands clinging to him for a moment longer before reaching for my shirt, but he was already pulling at the buttons with an impatience I knew too well. Scowling, he glanced down for a mere heartbeat before wrenching it open, deaf to the clatter of metal scattering to the floor. And I couldn’t help but laugh, torso arching up against him, eagerly hunting his lips before letting my kiss trail down to his jaw as he focused on guiding my arms from the sleeve; his neck, savoring the feel of his pulse beneath my tongue, my teeth, body nearly caving from the low grown that rippled through his chest. He wrenched me against him, arms pulling me up to kneel before him as he wrestled with the fabric. A gasp tore through me from the flush of lust violently twisting and churning in me anew at the feel of his bare torso against mine.

Shirt abandoned to some nonexistent corner, he let his hands slide up my hips, my stomach and ribs, back around my shoulders until they tangled into my hair, forcing my lips back to his. I didn’t hesitate as he eased me back once more, body all too eager to obey his every hinted desire as he laid me down against the mattress. He didn’t wait before letting his lips roam, taking his time to press soft kisses against my cheek, my forehead, hands cradling my jaw, lips following down my hair line. I nearly cried out as his teeth snapped so carefully at the soft skin just beneath my ear, desperation growing, hands clawing at his back as shuttered breaths caught between my teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” He ordered again, voice almost hoarse. A moan sobbed from me as his tongue dragged against my throat before he sucked the skin gently between his teeth.

“I want this.” I whimpered. “Fuck, I want you, Cross… Please… ple” His hips ground against me, wrenching the air from my lungs in a desperate cry, arms locking around his shoulders as my back arched into him. Again, his teeth snapped at me, harder, nearly breaking me as every gasp left in a whimper, begging for him. I wanted to sob when his mouth abandoned my neck, kissing down my chest as his hands encircled my waist.

“Fu- ah… Cross…” The heat of his mouth hovered over my nipple, just letting his heavy breaths wash over it as he looked up at me, my arms locked around his head. His lips only just twitched up in a smirk as his tongue finally slid against that eager flesh, ruining me as I trapped him against my chest, head slamming back into the mattress, as my back arched, heels dragging absently atop the sheets. The instant I felt his hands shift to ease the fabric from my waist, I eager raised my hips to help him.

“Good girl.” He murmured against me, eyes dark as they took in how easily I came undone beneath his touch, tongue returning to torture my breast for just a moment longer before shifting to taste my ribs, my stomach as he pulled the shorts down my hips, my thighs, revealing just how desperate I was for him. He left one more kiss along the crest of my hip before pulling away. He dropped my shorts thoughtless as he stepped back, eyes devouring my exposed form.

Jaw parted, torso rocking with desperate breaths, I could only stare at him. Even in the dark, the play of muscles beneath lightly marred skin as he stood over me left me throbbing, begging for him to touch me as I looked up into the rich honey of his eyes to find him staring right back at me.

“So fucking beautiful.” The words sighed almost silently from him. Still, it washed over me like silk and, when his hand finally reached for me, when that feather-light touch finally whispered over my hip, up my stomach, fingers sliding between my breasts, up my throat; my jaw; when he held me like that, like I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, it left me breathless. His thumb brushed against my lower lip like I was made of glass, half-lidded eyes studying my every movement, jaw tensing in anticipation as I opened my mouth, shifting just enough to hide the tip behind my lips, tongue sliding against his skin. His teeth snapped together, air fleeing him in a sharp, muffled groan.

I let my fingers whisper around his wrist, holding him against me as I slowly pushed myself up, slipping from the mattress to stand just in front of him as I sucked his thumb deeper into my mouth, eyes never leaving his. Scowl twitching over his lips, he slid his hands into my hair, drawing my lips back to his. I welcomed the kiss; needed it as though it were the only thing keeping my heart beating, savoring his taste even as my hands slid down the dancing muscles of his stomach before grasping at his pants. His kiss didn’t waver as I tugged at the fabric, effortlessly releasing the clasp with one hand, the other already pushing the fabric from his hips.

The growl that tore through his chest when I first touched him sent an inferno raging through every fiber of my being; burning, desperate. Wrist twisting slightly, I wrapped my hand around him, let my fingers treasure the heat of velvet skin around the throbbing length, memorizing that look on his face, head craning back as he merely allowed himself to become a slave to the sensations, expression twisted into something so near pain, hands clutching onto me; my hair; my shoulder, chest jolting beneath broken gasps.

The need in his eyes when he finally looked back at me left my knees weak. That growl still rumbling from his chest, he threw himself back at my lips, pushing me back until I collapsed against the bed once more, releasing him in that split second of falling. Before I could think to reach for him again, his fingers slid up my thigh, and nothing existed beyond that touch. His mouth slid back against my throat. He slowed just before he reached me, wrenching a desperate whimper from my lips.

“Please… Cross-Crosshair, please,” I begged, one hand locked around his shoulder while the other clawed through his hair. I could feel the smile on his lips as he finally touched me. A violent, desperate moan tore from my throat, mind vanishing beyond the gentle movement of those fingers as he toyed with me, sliding just between my lips. Slowly dragging over that impossibly sensitive mound before continuing along the throbbing flesh, skin already slick with my need as he worked his way back up to rub gently against my clit.

“Look at me.” He growled, movements never slowing. Body nearly shivering beneath his touch, I forced myself to open my eyes, to search for him. As soon as I found those eyes, saw the hunger in them, the lust, he slipped a finger inside me, and I sobbed beneath the violent wave of relief and need and pleasure that rippled up my core, gooseflesh dancing across my skin. I couldn’t help but writhe against him, thighs locking around his wrist even as every muscle begged for more. He toyed with me for mere seconds before slipping another finger in, and I collapsed to the mattress, pleasure bursting through me in waves.

“Look at me.” He ordered again, emphasizing it with a flick of his thumb over my clit and wrenching a sharp cry from me. Again, I forced my eyes open, instantly finding him. He began pumping into me, thumb continuing to work over that wretched bundle of nerves, sending a delicious need through me.

“Good.” He praised as I struggled to keep my gaze locked on him. Faster.

“Crosshair.” I whimpered, body growing violently desperate, nerves beginning to panic.

“You know how fucking good my name sounds on your lips?” He snarled, forcing himself even faster. My feet scraped against the mattress, back arching, coiled, pressure locking my muscles.

“Cro-Crosshair, I can’t… I… fuck, I can’t,” Words, whimpers, pleas gasped from me, “Cro-Crosshair!” His name screamed from my lips as that tension finally boiled over, rippling up my body in ecstasy even as I strained to escape him. His mouth locked over mine, devouring my whimpers as I seized against him; against the now gentle, slow thrusting of his hand, each careful movement just enough to reignite that mind-consuming dance of fire beneath my skin, until I was trembling, gasping against him, and he finally stilled.

“Do you still want this?” He asked, face hidden against my neck. Wrong. Something about how he asked felt wrong. Limbs still shaking, I reached for him, hands sliding over his cheeks to ease his gaze back to mine.

“You.” I corrected before even realizing what that wrongness was. “I want you.” Something in him seemed to quiet, and there was something so perfectly right about it. “I want you, Crosshair.” Without giving him a change to respond, I pulled him back against me, moaning eagerly at his taste. I leaned back, easing him down with me. He didn’t hesitate, hand slipping from between my legs as he rolled overtop of me.

I felt the dew of sweat beading against his chest, felt the incredible care governing his every movement as my thighs tightened eagerly around his hips. And, when he finally touched me, head just brushing against me, my back arched with a fresh whimper, hands almost clawing at him as my hips tilted desperately to meet him.

“Please,” I whispered between kisses, “Please, Crosshair,” words tangling between gasped breaths, “fuck, I need you… please.” He pulled back enough to look in my eyes, to see the raw truth in my words, and he slowly pushed into me. My jaw fell open in a gasp, that burst of nerves again rippling through every inch of my body. My teeth clicked together against a twinge of pain, flesh stretching around him, and he froze.

“Alya?” The worry in his voice, how gently he called me… I wasn’t expecting that, heart bursting as I looked up at him, emotions roiling from the ecstasy still coursing through my veins, I couldn’t but stare, tears burning as they pooled in my eyes. Something like horror crossed his face and he started to pull back, sending a surge of panic through me.

“Wait!” I gasped, hands darting to his jaw, fingers whispering over his cheeks. “It’s alright… I’m alright.” I promised, a soft smile pulling at my lips. “It’s alright.” I whispered again, already desperate to taste him once more. “Cross,” I breathed against his lips, “Crosshair, don’t stop.” I sighed, begging him to kiss me. Muscles seizing, he lost himself in my lips, hesitating only until another moaned “please” escaped me before pushing against me once more. My body shook with a violent gasp, nerves alighting from the perfect fullness.

Panting, he hid against my neck, clinging to me in his desperate attempt to maintain some degree of restraint as he slowly pulled out before burying himself even deeper inside me, movements slow, precise. Still, my back arched into him, whimper choking in my throat, hand burying itself in his hair. Again, he paused, face nuzzling against me, lips kissing absently against that sensitive skin.

“Please,” I sobbed, “Cross, please don’t stop… don’t stop…” His chest bucked and his lips found mine, only whispering against me.

“Don’t want to hurt you.” He breathed, hiding from the very threat of the words as he kissed me with a tenderness that left me reeling. Thumb brushing along his cheekbone, I tried to guide his gaze to mine, but, brows knit together, he turned purposefully away, jaw taut.

“Hey.” I whispered, taking the opportunity to lay my lips against his forehead, his cheeks, his lips until he finally looked at me. “I’m alright.” I promised once more. “I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.” My thumb trailed over his lips. “So please… Crosshair, please… I want you.” I started to kiss him again but held myself back.

“Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you ask for it.” He murmured, and I couldn’t help but beam at him. Movements still slow, controlled, he pulled out again, eyes once more studying me before pushing back into me. Gasping, I let my head sink against his neck. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me against him as he fell into a tantalizingly slow rhythm, each thrust getting slightly deeper. Deeper. I could feel the nerves panicking. My hand locked around his hip terrified he’d stop even as I found myself terrified that he’d keep going; that he’d tear right through me.

“F… f-fuck…” I whimpered, spine arching into him. A grunt caught in his throat, and I felt that control finally begin to slip, getting just that much faster. My other hand darted to the sheets, fingers clinging to the soft fabric, hips rocking up to meet him even as that fear told me to run, that I couldn’t handle it; that it was too much, but that fear only made the promise of pleasure so much more potent. His hand found mine, untangling my fingers from the sheets to twine them through his own before locking my hand above my head.

“Cross!” His name tore from me in a gasp as he ground just that much deeper, thighs locking around his hips.

“Fuck, Alya… Keep saying my name.” He growled, hand tightening almost painfully around mine. My nails dug into his waist, nerves coiling, tightening from his every thrust.

“C-Crosshair, don’t… don’t stop,” I gasped. “Please… please don’t s…” I whimpered. Tighter. “Cross, I c- I can’t…” Sensing the panic seething through frantic nerves, he suddenly doubled his pace, each thrust sending bursts of fire up my spine, hips finally slamming fully into mine as he forced the entirety of his length into me. Abandoning his waist, my arm darted around his shoulder, desperate for something solid as my body seized on the verge of shattering beneath him, every gasp leaving in a rabid cry. Tighter. I was going to break.

“Cross, I can’t, I-fuck, fuck!” I sobbed. A violent cry erupted from me as I finally snapped, arms going numb, fingertips tingling as that wave of fire poured through me. Abandoning my hand, he gripped my hip with enough force to leave bruises, movements growing desperate as he rocked me even harder against him. My chest slammed into him, back arching violently, body panicking beneath screaming nerves even as my arms locked him against me begging for more. His movements grew desperate, face tucked into my neck as something like a whimper of his own caught in his throat. My hands clawed through his hair, every thrust forcing a fresh cry from my lips; too much. Too much. Nearly sobbing, I cried his name, begging for something I couldn’t name.

With a sharp, almost pained gasp, he wrenched himself out of me, body seizing for a few seconds longer before going still beyond the unsteady, shuttered gasps. Chest bucking beneath lungs starving for some taste of air, I could only hide beneath him, arms still clinging to his shoulders as my muscles tried to remember how to loosen. Hand slowly shifting from my hip, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, just lessening the weight of him against me. With only the sound of uneven breaths filling the room, he touched his cheek to mine, pausing a moment before he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just beneath my ear, shifting almost lazily along my jaw, up my cheeks, delicately touching both of my eyelids, my forehead, before finally claiming my lips once more.

Even through the exhaustion weighing down on me, I lit up beneath that touch, hands eagerly reaching to cup his cheeks, fingers just whispering into his hair before sliding down his jaw as though that might keep him against me for just a moment longer before he finally pulled back, forehead resting gently against mine.

“Are you alright?” He breathed, refusing to look at me once more.

“Mhm.” I hummed absently with a weak nod, wanting nothing more than to sink into the mattress, hidden against his warmth, but that wasn’t enough. He slid his arm from behind my head and carefully caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my gaze to his.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, and again I found myself smiling, fingers absently roaming over the sharp planes of his face for the sheer joy of touch.

“I’m fine, Cross.” I whispered, a small chuckle catching in my throat. His thumb shifted to wipe at the line of tears that had fallen from my eyes, and my grin grew. Without another word, I leaned up to steal just one more kiss before letting myself slip boneless to the mattress. When I looked back up at him, my heart skipped at the sight of that tiny smile on his lips. With a sigh, he settled beside me, arms absently pulling me to his chest as he buried his face in my hair. Warm. Safe. Like nothing else could possibly matter. Bliss. I felt bliss as I laid against him.

“We should clean up.” He sighed against my scalp, and I couldn’t help but pout slightly. The instant I heard that quiet chuckle ripple through his chest, I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do to hear him laugh forever. “Come on.” He pressed, propping himself up on an elbow once more. “Think you can stand?” I pretended to debate it a moment before peaking at that still smirking face, and unable to fight back the grin, shook my head. He let out a forced sigh and slipped out from under me.

"Suit yourself." He called over his shoulder, started toward the door.

“Hey!” I tried to shout, but the effect was lost in the laughter I couldn’t quite bite back. Before I’d begun to push myself up, however, his arms slipped beneath me, hoisting me to his chest. That laughter escaped me anew, hands eagerly sliding around his shoulders and neck as he carried me through the ship. I scattered kisses absently over his neck and cheek as he walked, occasionally catching another taste of his lips until we finally stood in the shower.

Arm tightening around my shoulders, he gently set my legs down. I held my own weight for barely a second before my knees tried to cave. Instantly, he wrenched me against his chest, hesitating at the lingering giggle as I tried to convince the muscles to work. He let out a quiet scoff, lips resting briefly against my hair before letting me stand on my own as he turned on the water.

Neither of us said a word as the hot water washed over us. Twice, he lost himself against me, arms eagerly holding my bare form flush against him as he tasted my lips, and I readily gave in each time, nearly willing to take him once more despite the lingering ache, but he merely kissed me before turning back to guiding soap over my body. I kissed him as I worked his shampoo into a lather, hands incapable of leaving his body for more than a few seconds before searching for him again.

“Need to swap the sheets.” He mumbled against my lips as the water stopped. I hummed absently, sinking back into his touch thoughtless. That chuckle rumbled through his chest, and I felt the tremble it sent shooting down my spine. “Finish up. Then you can join me.” He added with a final kiss. I briefly tried to follow him but paused. Reluctantly, I spent a few more needed minutes in the privy before allowing myself to retreat back to his warmth.

The room appeared as though nothing had happened, but, if I looked for it, I could still catch the feral scent. Shooting him a shy grin, I slipped beneath the covers, perfectly aware that he’d stared at my exposed body the entire time. Warm. Instantly, I sank back into that perfect bliss as he pulled me to his chest. Heart flooding with affection, I nuzzled gently against him before settling in to sleep.

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[mollysunder]

The funny thing about Silco and Jinx is that they talk like belong in Piltover, they just don't have the accents for it. They both talk in speech patterns that are vaguely more anachronistic than the rest of Zaun's cast (and even some Piltovans) that's usually associated with eccentric rich families in media.

Silco goes into soliloquies worthy of the stage while Jinx easily whips out idioms that barely made it past the turn of the century. If you plopped these two in the upper class casts of an Agatha Christie novel they'd fit right in.

Jinx and Silco would be the cut-throat noveau riche dinner party guests that the readers immediately dismiss as the killers because they're too obviously murderous. No one at the dinner party actually likes them, because it turns out everyone including the host, the murder victim, and the murderer owes Silco money. The detective solved the mystery but can't save the party from Silco and Jinx.

[002yb]

Jason’s “please don’t pull out I have abandonment issues” vs Dick’s “not pulling out because I have separation anxiety”

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

[royalarchivist]

Mike: I'll hold you son, I'll hold you son.

[They all "Awww"]

Mike: Increase the speed, increase the speed! I'm holding you. Faster faster faster! Faster! I'm holding my son, I'm holding my son! He's not gonna fall, he's not gonna fall– he's right here with me.

[Pac and Mike both laugh, and Fit smiles as he looks at both of them]

Fit: Yeah, doin' good!

Pac: Hold– oh my– Mike, if you don't hold him, he's gonna break, he's gonna break!

Fit: He's gonna get scrambled!

Mike: [Lets Richarlyson go temporarily and encourages him] Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding. Nice, you managed to endure the– [Pac stands behind Mike and hugs him] Oh, you're holding me!

Pac: If you fall–

Mike: Hold Pac Fit, hold Pac Fit!

Pac: Nobody gonna fall!

Fit: Okokokok there you go. [He hugs Pac from behind too, and they all laugh, cheering on Richarlyson]

[mr-urple]

GUYS. PLEASE BLOCK THIS PERSON.

It's.... Tc*st......

and while I'm not sure if it's true THEY LITERALLY DREW MY SONA???? AT LEAST THEY TOOK HUGE INSPO????????

speculation under cut... im probably just overreacting but still

they drew this ON THE DAY I posted my sona redesign. And jsyk I posted my sona design VERY late (at like 11:30 pm or something)

same (if not similar) tech markings..

SAME MECH TAIL. THIS IS UNMISTAKABLE

They also drew the mask tails. VERY similarly.

Idk if they took heavy inspo from my sona or just straight up copied it. But wow holy shit.

AND HONESTLY it doesnt matter if they stole my sona ITS LITERALLY TC*ST THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH REASON TO BLOCK THEM

[escapedaudios]

Sharing the spooky ass vampire dream I had last night on here because it was so fucking spooky omfg.

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

You don't get it, do you?

If you say that Izzy's death was a beautiful conclusion to his arc, that it was kind. You just. You don't fucking get it.

You don't get to say shit like that if you're able-bodied, and then ignore those of us who are disabled, and who liked Izzy, and are now angry and saddened by his death.

Do you think it was, I don't know... A humane way of ending things?

Well. If that's the case then, first of all, I don't want you anywhere near me. Second of all, I want you to sit with yourself and think, but like really think, about why you think it's more humane to kill off a physically disabled queer character rather than, I don't know, let him live out the rest of his life happily, getting more and more accustomed to his disability, overcoming his trauma and enjoying his life to the fullest.

Queerness and disability rarely intersect in media, unlike real life. For a few episodes, Izzy's arc gave so many of us hope. It was a beautiful, dazzling story of a man who's been through unimaginable horrors, who was only just starting to overcome his trauma, finding love, acceptance and community.

Do you know how rare it is to witness a story like that? To see yourself in a character, in a way that you've never felt seen by media before?

Now, can you imagine how much of a slap in the face it was when he died? And a death that, I might add, wasn't necessary for anyone's development, was anticlimactic, cruel, and, perhaps the most importantly, came way too early?

So, you don't get to tell us that we're overreacting after Izzy was killed off. You don't get to do that, because you just don't get it. We're hurting, and for a good reason. Because it's vile, and because if we don't speak up against it, nobody else will do it for us. You can sit in your own little corner, telling yourself that the season finale was good and satisfying, and that you're happy with the way it ended if it's indeed the series finale.

Meanwhile I'll stay here, thinking about how a beloved, queer, disabled character on a beloved queer show was put down with a gun like a horse with a broken leg.

But that was the kind thing to do, wasn't it?

[blitzwhore]

It's always fun experiencing severe mental illness symptoms because of fiction, eh?