#They are the ghost of a player

[creationsofimaginationsblr]

.

[zarstarss]

he'll be back on the team in no time trust me

(also was NOT expecting all the love on the last piece i posted, too shy to interact with anybody even tho it’s all people being so nice?? anyway sorry for yapping BUT WOAH HEY HELLO)

[tojisun]

simon only ever falling into an actual deep sleep when he’s using your lap as pillow hhhhhhhh :((

he is so exhausted all the time but he melts the moment he crawls into your arms. he feels like the only time he ever feels the safest is in your hold, by your side, warm in your embrace.

thinking about ​hockey player simon coming to you in comfort after every loss. he just... crumbles in your presence. there is no need for any pretence or a mask—there is no need to tough it out or fake amiability the way he has to during interviews—and lets himself be consumed by his grief because you let him.

you let him revisit every missed shots, every missed saves, your fingers gentle as you brush at his hair in comfort. he doesn’t cry, not really, but he does nuzzle his face on your belly because his grief is so huge, the only way he knows how to comfort himself is to find it in you.

and when it is all over, when the silence finally ripples, you pull him closer and say, “you did so good, baby.” because it is the truth.

their season may have ended but simon continues to be the star. the living legend. but most of all, your hardworking boy.

[emacrow]

The batfam decided to play a new board game called the realm of Phantom which Cass had found in a vintage store...

Though when they began to play the game as Damian rolls the neon green dices first, they were suddenly transported into the real verison world of the game.

The sky is green, there a magical trail with green glowing trees, plants and animals. A sign between three paths along with little warning not to eat or drink anything meat related in the realm as it has said in the warning list.

Luckily the batfam had the snacks and drinks that were on the table.

Now it a race against supposedly time and space itself as each batfam roll the dice, pick glowing and floating neon green cards along the way, collect special items that has disadvantages and advantages.

Unfortunately during the time, somehow nobody was paying attention to Jason whom had snuck a couple of those glowing green pomegranate from a tree in the beginning while a certain someone panicked, had already eaten 4 of them, had thrown up a concerning crapton of icky yellowish green goob with red that screech at him like a chihuahua before it was about to flee and ended up getting eaten alive by some type of tiny floating blobs surrounding it and leaving nothing left.

He feeling fantastic though, and the urge to shot someone disappeared mostly was gone before anyone noticed he was gone for couple of minutes.

The batfam ended up meeting some characters that were on the board game, like Tuck the reincarnated Pharoah, little Ellie who beaten Damian to a near pulp whom kept trying for another rematch on his turn and ended up having to be dragged away before they ended up stuck in this place.

And finally they were near the end of the game where one of them must had the item to speak to the King of Balance... which nobody seem to know which item it was..

They tried every circle item they collected so far but none of them work. Tim is started to panic a bit, before Jason walked up to the Gate and press one of those green pomegranate into the circle like hole which ended up splitting in half, revealing the seeds of the pomegranate as the large grand Gate door open.

[cowgirls-blues]

... I'm smoking, and I'm moving around a baseball around in my hand. And I'm counting the stitches. 'Cause it's a Möbius loop, it's just one line of stitches, I'm counting - kind of like a rosary. "Take me out to the ball game..."

I'm watching Candela Obscura for the first time and my brain just went "hey what if we drew Sean with huge Ghibli tears wouldn't that be fun???

[bean-writes]

[konatsuus-wonderland]

Some late night doodles with my playersona (I don't like his design so much, it may change-)

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #89

Danny didn’t know what would happen when his parents portal turned on for the first time but this wasn’t it. He accidentally turned it on and the next thing he knew he was in front of this pool of green swirling liquid with this lady named Talia telling him she’d take care of him. The weird thing is he was now half dead with weird ghost powers and he somehow was turned back into a 5 year old. He met a kid the same age as him and the two quickly became inseparable, his name was Damian and even though he was to be the next head of what Danny assumed was a cult, he knew it was but he was in the body of a 5 year old and couldn’t exactly go home like this.

5 years pass and Danny gets sent along with Damian to Gotham to live with Damian’s birth father Bruce Wayne. Danny didn’t want to go at first but Bruce seemed to welcome him with open arms regardless of his background with the league. Everything is going well for the 2 until Danny meets Tim’s secretary, it’s Sam and she absolutely did not know how to handle her now smaller best friend. Tucker is doing an internship at Wayne Tech too.

[multifandomheathenannie]

TF141 Rugby au? We *all* know where we're staring......

Link for those who want it, and as the source: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4EHZ3rtK6z/?igsh=NWV0YXAwMXY4cW54

@going-to-ikea-for-the-fries SEE THIS WHEN YOU COME BACK FROM YOUR SHORT BREAK, POOKIE

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

same energy

[unit-ssn0va]

[nekrosmos]

My Dragon's Dogma GhostSoap adventure is going very well so far

Soap's ID is GOYDPVCBNSEZ for anyone interested !

[tojisun]

Poor poor hockey! Simon :(

he lost and now the only thing to make him feel better is a good bj

this made me twitch so here u are my love !!!

!! comfort/smut - minors dni; hockey au; praises (in a tender way and but also in a kink way); D/s-ish; some semblance of plot ig // 2.4k words (LMAO)

the horn blows, marking the end of the game and, with that, the end of spec gru’s season.

it was heartbreaking to watch the way the boys' bodies slump, their loss descending onto them like heavy rain. the arena shakes, screams from the opposing team's fans piercing your ears, but you can't blame them, really—they won on home ice, against the leviathan of the league. it is a tremendous win for them, and a devastating loss for your side.

you feel your hand getting squeezed and you turn, looking at johnny's fiancee, seeing the way her own face is crumpled in her sadness.

"i guess that's that, huh?" she says, comforting, her voice a quiet whisper that was almost devoured by the loud cheers.

sometimes you forget that she's an athlete too; that she feels things a lot more intense than you do because she understands the grapple. the desperation. the way how everything you give and everything you put out is, at the end, not enough.

you sniffle, holding her hand tighter.

"i'm so proud of 'em," you say wetly, unable to compartmentalize your grief.

she laughs, the sound of it so empty of any humour but not any less kind.

“i am too.”

you both turn your gazes back to the rink and watch the teams shake hands with each other, the players finally amiable like they hadn’t just been tussling on ice, all sparked by the sharp tension that buzzed throughout their play.

you watch as simon takes a lap, patting the backs of his team members with his lips pursed, but otherwise he is put together. and yet here you are, shaking, lips wobbling, nose twitching because you are trying your best not to cry. it isn’t like you were the one who lost so you wonder why your heart twinges with so much pain; why is it that you are the one holding back the tears?

simon turns to the crowd, roving his eyes past bodies, until they finally lock on you. his lips twitch into a smile; you give him what you hope is a big one—the type of smile that will let him know how in awe you are of him, win or not.

they skate away and you all shuffle out, preparing for the flight back home.

.

it was expected for the players to fly back home together—a semblance of normalcy even amidst the staggering defeat. it was their last attempt at showing sportsmanship; at showing the hounding media that despite the abrupt end of their season, they remained close-knit. 

simon understands it, of course. it was a media play, one that contends with the politics of the league, but it was difficult to act impartially, especially when they were making their way back, empty-handed, from the home ice of the team that had defeated them. it was difficult to not show the turmoil in their hearts, but they all managed to hold their heads up high during the exit and that was that.

they didn’t talk about it much, avoiding that last game as best as they could until the briefing, but hunger thrums in their jowls—no one was satisfied with being the second best. 

the promise of a better next season hung above them, but it is still so unreachable.

simon feels angrier than usual, unable to stop himself from taking this loss personally. like what costed them their win were only his shortcomings; like this defeat was his sole failure because he did promise to lead his team on ice, with price unable to stand as their official captain during the games. he had promised to score the most, after all, and had promised to keep the opposing puck out of price’s net, but he failed in both and, well, here they are.

back home, anguished. defeated.

he–

simon's phone rings, a quiet trill that echoes in the empty locker room. 

he shoots awake from the swirl of his thoughts, sluggish as he pulls it out of his bag. he expected it to be laswell or keller, or maybe their coach, but simon feels his world tilt when he sees your name flashing on his screen. and just like that, like he wasn’t even drowning in his self-doubt and self-hatred, simon feels like he can breathe again. 

he feels lighter, his anguish seeping out of his pores, leaving him with nothing but his flesh and his heart and his love. 

simon picks up the call, hears your voice, then he is up and running back home. 

.

there is a sense of urgency in the way he finds you, his cold body folding into the warm touch of your own. you gasped out his name, surprised at how fast you have him back in your arms after a whole season of flying and leaving and pursuing his chance at the cup—

“i’m home, petal,” simon murmurs, his voice deep and beautiful and longing, and you giggle, your eyes watering, before you nuzzle into his chest.

he breathes you in, the faint smell of ozone and rain and something distinctly flowery fills his nose, and somehow this is what grounds him, his blood spiking as desire and need fill him up instead.

and it trickles into him like wafting smoke—soft, gentle, cascading like a warm kiss. it is still intense, hungry, but it is tender. quiet. like everything about simon’s buzzed energy had transformed into this careful folding. the anger, the desperation, all of it snuffed out for a vulnerable moment.

“baby,” you begin, voice muffled from where your head is still pressed on his chest. “love, you did so well.”

he shakes, his words failing him now. 

you pull back just enough and he sees the glazed look in your eyes as you stare up at him, your lips curled in your smile. “i’m so proud of you, si.” 

his heart stutters inside the cages of his ribs, jumping, before it lodges itself in his throat. 

you giggle at his wordless tremors and press close again, your body melting onto his again, before you tip your head back to his chest but this time, instead of a nuzzle, you greet his beating heart with a kiss. one that is so light he barely feels it from his shirt, but simon feels so shaken. 

he feels so raw. 

you are holding him like he is the best thing in this world. like all his bulk and his size and his anger is still worth this softness.

“i need you,” he croaks out, unable to stop the way his feelings bloat and rage in the pit of his stomach. 

“you have all of me,” you reply, breathless, your eyes still blown open, wide and full of wonder. then they shift, turning sharper, gaining edge; still careful, coaxing, but overwhelming. “tell me, my love. tell me how you need me.”

“fuck,” simon rasps out, feeling like he’s running out of air. his fingers twitch, digging deep into your skin, feeling it mould under his touch.

he’s missed this, alright. he’s—

“mouth,” he finally manages to bite out. “wan’ feel your mouth, love.”

“okay,” you croon, kissing his pec again. “sit f’me?”

simon doesn’t even have it in him to feel embarrassed about the way he falls to his ass on the plush mattress, bouncing a little bit because of the force, before he spreads his legs open, so, so desperate. 

you have your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, canines dimpling the flesh, and simon feels like he is burning from the inside; doused with the fires of need, spark untamable, licking up, up, up.

“come on, firelily,” he rumbles, needy. “c’mere an’ kiss me.”

you huff, fond, and fall to your knees, scooting close to him. 

it was silent as you fumble with his sweats, tugging at the drawstring and grumbling when the hem gets snugged on his hips. simon chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face before he juts up just enough to give you room to slide his sweats and his boxers down.

the cool air makes him tremble and you murmur something. it was so faint that he doesn’t get to catch what it was, but his curiosity sizzles at the sight of you licking your palm, shyly with how you refuse to meet his eyes. he almost teases you, his cheeks round with giddiness, but then you wrapped your fist around his half-chub, and his sanity is razed. 

simon hisses, eyes fluttering close at the warm curl of pleasure.

jesus. he’s missed the feeling of this; your hand is softer, more supple, around his cock. it was so different from when it was his own fist rubbing himself, beating at his angrily flushed cock with desperation only for his peak to tip over mutedly, and not enough to truly satiate his hunger.

but this? fuck. 

simon doesn’t even realize he’s whimpering, his head thrown back at the curious pace of your hand, not really jerking him off but mapping along his veins almost in quiet awe. 

“‘m not gon’ last long if you–” he gasps at a particular twist. “if you keep doing that.”

“oh, no we can’t have that,” you tease, chuckling, and simon’s reply builds on the tip of his tongue, cheeky, but then you’re already moving, your back folding, your breath hitting his sensitive head.

his thighs tense in his anticipation, his stomach locking. you flit your eyes up at him, pupils blown wide in your own ragged need, before he jerks at the feeling of your tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, licking up, and teasing his leaking slit.

simon moans, guttural, his voice caught on the back of his throat. he drops his hands to his sides, fisting at the sheets as you keep licking, teasing his slit and tracing his veins, lapping at his cock so messily. 

if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re inexperienced; all sloppy and curious, like you’re attempting things you’ve probably seen in porn, but then you close the ring of your mouth around the bulbed head, suckling like it’s a goddamn loli, while your hands drop to squeeze his balls, and simon’s gone. 

“shit-!” he gasps out, battling air like he’s back on ice. 

he bucks his hips forward, unable to help himself, and only stops at the warbled sound of your surprise.

“fuck,” he hisses, hand coming up to swipe the hair from your sweaty face. “i’m sorry, darlin’. didn’t mean t’force it down. s’just that y’r so good.”

he keeps petting your cheek, overtaken by his desires and no longer able to stop the string of words trickling from his heart. “missed you lots, swee’art. missed you so much—take me deeper?”

your cheeks hollow as you hum, so obedient for him.

“yeah, jus’ like that,” simon trills, his chest rising as he breathes in deeply. his stomach flexes at the feeling of you swallowing more of him, taking his thickness past your gummy cheeks and into the wet vice of your throat. “shit, baby. christ. y’feel so fuckin’ good ‘round me. so perfect an’ wet.” he giggles, drunken in his bliss. “such a messy baby y’are. so sloppy. y’wanted my cock that much, din’ya? so hungry f’r it.”

there’s a wet slurp when he hits the deepest you could allow him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. you choke, your body lurching in protest, but simon is at the throes of his pleasure and his rational thoughts are devoured by his gluttonous need, and simon knows it is wrong to ask but—

“hold it in? can you do that f’r me, love?” he croons, his voice curling in his euphoria.

he knows this is playing dirty; to use your weakness—the deep rumble of his voice and the gentle beckoning—to make you weak, malleable. to make you just as desperate for him because he knows all you want to do is to be good for him even when it has you straining, your eyes filling up with tears. he knows it is wrong, but he can’t help it. he wants you this way.

and you want him like this too—his desires sharpening, shaping him to be mean and dangerous. his thickness fills you up, pressing at the roof of your mouth and trapping your tongue underneath the weight of his flesh. your larynx is stretched out, stuffed, but simon is looking at you so adoringly, his own ecstasy so dizzying, so addicting.

you nod, sniffling, finally replying to his question because you want him to feel good. because you want him to lose his restraints when it comes to you.

because you want him to use you until he’s truly relaxed, his body exhausted with something beyond his heartbreak. with something beyond his loss.

simon’s lips wobble like he knows what it is you are thinking of. 

he fucks your throat that way, gentle and sometimes slipping into something so mean it makes you squirm on your knees, the muted throb of your strained legs finally turning into staticky numbness, but you don’t complain, your jaw relaxed as you let simon use you.

he growls out his praises, his words chewed on in his peaking euphoria—nose flaring, cheeks flushed red—or lilting as he teases you—pulling his cock out enough that all that is left is the head, and you whine because you want him in, please simon. wan’ more please—

“gonna cum, sweetheart. gonna cum—fuck!—gonna—”

simon throws his head back, a blinding white filling his eyes and his ears ringing. his body trembles at the intensity of his orgasm, immense pleasure overtaking every synapses in his body until all that he feels is the feverish wrap of your mouth on him.

he flicks his eyes down, panting, and twitches at the sight you make—jaw slack, eyes faraway, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat. 

you look, fuck, you look angelic like this.

simon cups your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your teary eye. you focus back to him slowly, blinking owlishly. 

“shh,” he croons, gentle. “i’ve got you, darlin’. i’ve got you.”

a whine builds from the back of your throat and simon hums, responding to your wordless babble, trying to ease you back down from the fog. he continues to hold you even amidst his oversensitivity, waiting so patiently so he can take care of you now.

yeah, he thinks to himself as he continues to return your unblinking stare. i’m glad to be back home. 

hope this was good :'33 once again pls dont judge me for my blatant self-indulgence hhHHHHH oki oki mwah!!

[pastelaeqy]

sorry started thinking about dbh after so long. apologies guys. yes Connor is my favourite. He’s a combo of like all my favourite character tropes and I love a good (question mark) story about robots.

something something the end poem and being alive and playing the game. had this bad boy in the wips for so long.

[bloostronaut]

off summer(?) rkgk

he looks so fucking stupid here I need to throw rocks at him

[skywarpie]

feeling absolutely SICK

this was a year ago today