#i finally posted this. god bless

[surreal-duck]

some business to take care of

[tox-tea]

Oh to Worship You (click for higher res)

[dimension-20-every-introduction]

Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20's Fantasy High: Junior Year episode 17

[thebatmqn]

I’m not lying when I say I fully believe this is going to be these three’s dynamic post-series finale.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[sunsetzer]

I don't have a problem I have a hyperfixation

[lottiecrabie]

choose your own smut adventure. end – matty healy

previous. start.

Matty winces. “Right,” he nods. He straightens up and slides out of you slowly; you gasp at the feeling, already sore from the barest movement. Your cunt throbs around nothing, trying to adjust to the lack of him, as though he’d rearranged something in you, left you changed. Made for him, or at the very least constructed.

Matty’s eyes are firmly fixed down and you frown, sitting up to see what he’s staring at. His cum is leaking out of you, falling on the desk. He’s transfixed, licking his lips. “Sorry,” he says, vaguely flushing, though still doesn’t look away. 

You laugh. “You’re such a boy.”

“It’s hot!” He defends, but a laugh bubbles out of him all the same. There’s a dazed, euphoric atmosphere to this dorm room. A slight giddiness. You feel like a teenager again. 

Matty grabs his shirt from the floor, using it to clean at the wet mess between your thighs. You hiss when he rubs at your clit, oversensitive, and he gives you an apologetic look, wiping gentler. You grab his shoulders once he’s done, pouting at him comically. “But now what will you wear when you leave tomorrow?” 

“I can fit in one of your shirts.” You snort. 

You smack a kiss on his lips, then jump off the desk. You’re weak on your legs, a newborn fawn, and you must grip him just to stand still. You sniff; your nose wrinkles. “God, we need a shower. We reek.” 

“I think we’ll need a full-on exorcism to get rid of the smell in this room.” You make a sound of agreement. 

It really is a carnage; clothes everywhere, pillows and covers thrown around, papers and pens fallen soldiers at your feet. The bed even managed to scoot away from the wall, laying tilted, the scarf still tied around the bed frame. It’ll take a few hours just to organize everything correctly, and you’re too post-orgasm drunk to care. 

“Shower first. Then we can draw the pentagram.” 

“Always on that schedule,” he tsks. 

He walks you to the bathroom with minimal laughing at your shaky, penguin legs, though not zero. You give him a few glares, holding back very pointed comments on how it’s all his fault, mostly because they would just climb directly to his head and permeate that ego of his. 

The bathroom is a square, little thing, and the shower is even tinier. You’re practically chest to chest trying to fit both of you in the small cubicle. The shower sprays mostly on your back; Matty valiantly left you the prime spot under the shower head. While burning water falls on your shoulders, relaxing those sore muscles, Matty clings to you just to try and catch a few droplets. 

“Let me do your hair,” Matty says once you’ve washed off the stench of sex coating your bodies. You acquiesce, pointing him to the lavender shampoo on his side of the shower. 

You turn your back to him. Behind you, Matty gathers some shampoo. His fingers bury in your hair, delicately unraveling all the knots he’s created. He digs into your scalp, massaging it. You moan. Your head falls back, loose and slack. He really does have magic hands. 

“We gotta wash it off,” he whispers in your ear. You turn around again, grinning at him. He’s beautiful, warm and flushed, with water droplets falling down his eyelashes onto his cheeks. You want to kiss him, so you do. 

Matty bends your head back under the shower head. The shampoo washes off, leaving a faint aroma of lavender behind. When he’s done, his hands fall around your waist, holding you close, trapping you in the heat of his cocoon.

His fingers graze your back. A delicate, gentle drawing, more subconscious than a fixed thought. You shiver under his fingertips; tough, callused. Matty kisses your shoulder. You giggle, pressing your head into his. He straightens out to kiss your forehead next. 

“Was I a good teacher?” 

You grin up at him, scrunching your nose. “The best.” You flutter your eyelashes at him. “Was I a good student?”

“You were okay.” You gasp, slapping his shoulder. He laughs good-naturedly. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He grows serious, though still syrupy soft in the eyes. “You were the best.” Pride tingles up your limbs.

Your head falls on his shoulder. He draws circles on your spine, spinning around each bone, climbing up, then down. It’s all so right, so perfectly fitting; his fingers were meant to touch your skin. You know this deep in your bones. 

“Next time, I want to sit on your face,” you whisper, cheek squished on him. 

Matty laughs. He wraps around your waist, tightening. “Show me that list of yours. We’ll work through it.” 

You tilt your head up. “It’s long,” you trail meaningfully. “Might take us a few days.”

His grin drips on his face. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you, breathing, “It’s a date.”

[vldlance]

rainy day... ☔️

[schnuffel-danny]

the other certified Jack Fenton boob post 👍

Jack ditches the hazmat during a heatwave and Vlad's brain bluescreens for the rest of the month as a result

[shadowhaert]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐎𝐂: 𝐋𝐔𝐗 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

all content/inspo filed under #oc: lux

CURRENT FICS:

that kind of devotion [T, 1/1, 7288 words] wound tending, first kiss

if you think i'm pretty (lay your hands on me) [E, 1/1, 4631 words] smut, top!shadowheart

[teathattast]

since you all behaved here is the time my car peed itself featuring kitty litter bc it is potty trained

[vanityangel]

TOA LIONA AEW DYNAMITE (JANURARY 31, 2024)

[py6oto]

also spoiler warning kinda

listen i know i said on youtube my next video would be explaining au lore. but i found the assets for this and i HAD to put it together.

[zukkaoru]

❣️ warm leftovers ❣️

Chuuya wants to hate how much brighter Dazai’s eyes shine now. They want to hate that his smiles are more often genuine, that his skin is healthier and he’s put on weight, that his suicide attempts have steadily declined in both frequency and severity. They want to hate this new Dazai, because he slaughtered the boy Chuuya fell in love with and now wears his skin as a trophy. They want to. But they don’t. Because this Dazai laughs in the passenger seat when Kunikida recounts what he missed at the office while out on a case. This Dazai does not sink into himself after experiencing intimacy. This Dazai subconsciously leans towards Kunikida, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and stops himself mid-sentence to point out the next turn so Kunikida won’t miss it.

after the threesome, kunikida and dazai take chuuya home

❣️ 2.1k words || kunichuuzai || chuuya-centric ❣️ inspired by after the threesome, they both take you home by sue hyon bae

[apocryptid]

2 - either way, we're not alone

transcript

tenn - alright, cut. was that good or one more take?

wyatt - uh, it's the best it's going to get. but maybe take out the part where you admit to espionage and cyber intrusion?

t - we'll be fine, we have to maintain credibility with our audience, ya know? how many subscribers are we at now anyways

w - 54.

t - nice, nice

t - what do you think matt, any suggestions?

matt - are we going to ihop yet.

t - jesus, am i the only one taking this seriously?!

wyatt & matt - yeah

t - (sigh) whatever, let's climb up there to see if we can fi-

w - wait, what's that in the sky?

t - huh? whatever it is it's getting closer-

[LARGE EXPLOSION]

w - holy shit, was that a meteor?!

m - we might wanna dip guys...

t - WAIT, no look-

[fire crackling]

w - holy shit you guys we have to GO

m - wait do you see that? something's moving out of the explosion

w - the fire is spreading tenn, let's get out of here!

t - i'm gonna get a closer look, bring the camera!

w - WHAT?! tenn come back!

m - ah shit.

[devotion-disorder]

oversharing lol