#sorry im going rabid. anyway

[fragonreal]

this ship is something i hold dear in my hands

their stupid fucking noses though i cant take them SERIOUSLY PLEAS

(I'd also like to say that I DO NOT headcanon the Addisons as siblings! I see them as good friends. <3)

[nen-shin-impact]

oh tumblr you’re in for a honkai star rail autism ramble

i’m writing a fic (bc ofc i am) and “imbibitor” was obviously underlined as wrong. i hovered over it and it wants to correct to the word “imbibition.” i’ve never heard the word before so as all writers do i looked up the definition.

according to google:

“[imbibition is] the absorption of one substance by another, in particular the uptake of water by a plant or seed.”

the absorption of one substance by another

in the way dan feng and yingxing fucked with the ambrosial arbor and how they both absorbed its power?

the way dan feng accidentally split his power between two beings (dan heng and bailu), leaving them to absorb his destructive capabilities or cloudhymn magic respectively?

dan heng re-absorbing said residual power, the power of the high elder that should not even be his, to help save the luofu?

the fact that imbibitor’s lunae’s basic attack is a lotus, a plant in which the flower petals cannot absorb water????

and the fact that the -or in imbibitor means he is the one doing the absorbing instead of being absorbed, breaking the chains of what nature dictates (in terms of lotuses and water) to save the home that cast his previous incarnation out, unknowing if he would be welcome or even killed on sight—

i’m. i’m actually going fucking insane this is so fucking cool this is SO COOL i cannot express how feral i am being

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

not to out myself on main but Katsuki Bakugo continues to make me fucking insane

[sometimesiwanna-disappear]

im gonna tbh with yall, listening to magnus archives again without the constant fanon bleed and regular discussion etc.... definitely colors it a different way lol! i have more criticisms than i did when i listened to it the first time and it makes me a bit sad because i love it so so soso much. just coming up on the unknowing arc and i'm mentally strapping myself in because i'm realizing things [I dont like jmart very much / would like it MUCH BETTER if martin was actually a twist villain and web aligned i keep seeing the wires johnny i am shaking you by the shoulders DID YOU TAKE WEB ALIGNED EVIL MARTIN FROM US TO APPEASE THE FOUND FAMILY FANFICTION SOFT TEENAGE FANS ..... tell me why jonelias is so much more appealing to me now relistening to it as a grown ass woman . PAIN].

[glacialswordsman-a]

i'm normal i'm normal i'm sooo normal i'm so fucking normal over certain relationships i'm so normal i promise i PROOOOMISE I'M NORMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

[hexados-on-a-string]

spectragus dont get enough credit for being a sun and moon ship but like. destructive sun and moon ship. sun and moon ship but they're the forces of nature the sun and moon actually are. the sun is harsh and relentless and unpredictable in its evil but also it's kindness, the moon is sharp and cold and cruel, a harsh light that doesn't allow you peace, but can also guide you, a light in the darkness. even on nights with a new moon, with no light in the sky, the moon is always reflecting the sun, and it'll be that way until they come to their end.

[waywardsalt]

Have you ever thought about how Linebeck describes Jolene as "crazier than a rabid squid"- only to then be possessed by a literal rabid squid later in the game?

Cause I sure have- especially after seeing a lot of your BellumxLinebeck stuff

mmmmghmm im gonna be honest i haven't thought about it much at all

linking it to my bellum x linebeck thoughts, im not too sure what to make of it in context with my other linebeck notes and w/e

there's also my idea that linebeck has a special interested in shellfish and by extension squids, and the idea of him having a weird thing for bellum, and just... enjoying sealife, and it's kinda of...

he compares her to a rabid squid to link in order to i think... offer a shorthand explanation of what she's like, and i think it (with some other stuff) is kinda just another little peek into how he might feel abt her?

i mean he also compares link to a dog in that one letter? i'm not sure where im going with that one. i dont think linebeck particularly likes dogs

i'm not sure abt the link between that and him getting possessed, jolene is kind of just... there a lot of the time and doesn't really do anything except 1) show that linebeck has enemies and 2) show that people know about link's quest by the end, linebeck generally references sea creatures a few times in ph

relating to bellum x linebeck, i dont see him comparing jolene to a squid an indicator of anything in relation to that, with linebeck having a thing for bellum its more of like. there's a lot of complicated ideas i have with what goes on between them during bellumbeck and bellum being a squid thing is more linebeck having a bit of a monsterfucker streak and having a bit of a thing for like. being tied up. as for literal squids he kinda just likes them as food and to dissect and learn about

like i think 'rabid squid' is more like linebeck just tossing out some derogatory shorthand to explain how he thinks of jolene as some fucking. violent annoyance he has to deal with that he doesn't fully understand

tbh i see the comparison but imo it comes down to a difference in characters and interactions and histories, there is the rabid squid thing (and i think in the manga too theres a vague parallel drawn ig) but im not. sure. what there is there just beyond. linebeck talks about sea creatures and wants to get the fuck away from jolene

i'm not entirely certain what you've been thinking about with that comparison, but i haven't been thinking much about it and it's kinda. eh ig???? its something

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[red-dyed-sarumane]

i have a new theory for aru sekai fans & by new i mean someone else might have caught on already but i havent seen it said SO. the rute furutewoa melody is in kyuuyaku, touhikou, & now kannagi (maybe elsewhere bc i havent been looking for this motif before i only realized it today really & i havent had time to go thru all the songs again yet) & we have kyuu (past), something in touhikou im too tired to remember currently but i remember calling something similar a while ago when someone asked if there was a timeline to this, and now kannagi that uses the older language so im willing to bet this motif is a way of saying the events in the song happened in the "past". whether thats actually Long Ago or just to say its not the current situation or just happened before the songs without it i cant say for sure but i think it makes sense given what we have now.

just like we have the nami no ne no motif that signals which characters still have their "self" if its in the song or lost it if its not.

i have to do some more digging of course but with what i know right now this makes the most sense to me

[stormyoceans]

I like how you headcanon Day as more proactive (like a nice parallel to Vice Versa and PuenTalay where Puen was more proactive). Let baby gay be horny for his poor hot mechanic boyfriend. Btw we know very small amount of information but how do you WANT it to be: do you want Day to be gay? Or bi? And what about Mork? Do you want them/one of them to have dating experience? What should be their view of love be?

im SO HAPPY you like the idea of day being the more proactive one because i think that's really one of the thing i want the most out of this show!!!! i also think it fits what little we saw of them in the mock trailer: mork is flirty, but he's also older and works as day's caretaker, so he's painfully aware of - as he calls them - "the boundaries of his responsibility", which is probably what is going to stop him from pursuing an actual relationship with day. day, on the other hand, doesn't have these qualms, and at the end of the trailer he is the one to go in for a kiss, so i LOVE the idea of day going after what he wants once he realizes his feelings for mork

as for your questions, right now im mostly headcanoning mork as bi and day as gay, similarly to puentalay, though i wouldn’t really be able to explain why ;;;;; i also think mork has definitely dated before, while im not so sure about day: he’s an athlete, so he must have been really popular in school, but it also means that all his energies were probably devoted to training and that he didn’t have time to hang out with friends, much less to actually date

and maybe it’s because of this difference in their experiences, but i would love to see mork being kinda disillusioned when it comes to love and day being the more.. idealistically romantic one. mork is in debt and can’t see a future for himself, and maybe in the past he had some relationships that didn’t end well, so i could easily imagine him thinking that love isn’t really for him because he doesn’t believe he gets to have a happy ending, while day seems to like stories, and love in stories is always passionate and sensational and bigger than yourself, so that’s what he expects for himself too. it would be nice if by being together they could learn that happiness and love are in the small gestures they choose to give and receive from each other every day

[mikichko]

i am so normal coded rn

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. 

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin. 

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering. 

Incurable. 

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty. 

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock. 

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it. 

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish. 

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist. 

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer. 

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed. 

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you? 

Obediently following the wrong master. 

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth. 

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him. 

But of course, you don't. 

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands. 

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to. 

And so, he doesn't. 

No. He blames you. 

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity. 

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next." 

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners. 

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" 

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like— 

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them. 

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest. 

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen." 

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?” 

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem. 

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning. 

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you. 

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half. 

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.” 

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone. 

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?” 

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross. 

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging. 

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all. 

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle. 

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?” 

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation. 

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?” 

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching. 

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving. 

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease. 

Cathartic. 

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.” 

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady. 

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific. 

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again. 

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose. 

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony. 

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs. 

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs. 

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit. 

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming. 

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.” 

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips. 

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose. 

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he? 

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts. 

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth. 

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic. 

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades. 

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive. 

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow. 

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins. 

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him. 

It's new, this. This meekness. 

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it. 

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening. 

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched. 

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender. 

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one. 

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring. 

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs. 

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh. 

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?” 

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head. 

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No. 

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight. 

Bracing yourself. 

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over. 

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine. 

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx. 

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere. 

Something will break. Shatter. 

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock. 

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric. 

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl. 

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.  

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting. 

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth. 

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that. 

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers. 

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins. 

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand. 

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you? 

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.” 

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—” 

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel. 

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox. 

“E–eight.” 

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone. 

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare. 

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly. 

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body. 

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks. 

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze. 

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.” 

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking. 

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon. 

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand. 

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet. 

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap. 

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

[theskyexists]

Ah. Fuck.

[catboygretzky]

Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

2/?

📜 realexyblog

haiku because exy is back:

GOD, why are my teams

SO fucking bad at exy?

FUCK this FUCKING sport.

#and i watch sports for why? entertainment? no way

243 notes

♛ queen-of-exy

I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG! KEVIN DAY IS A QUEEN SHES LITERALLY A QUEEN ITS ON HER FACE

💃fox-me-up follow

queen on the court, pillow princess on the mattress amiright

♛ queen-of-exy

ive never felt more understood, I am kissing you w tongue

#marry me tumblr user fox me up

411 notes

🌞 blonde-jeremy-knox

i'm just gonna say it. i know we're all thinking it. jeremy knox eats ass like it's his JOB.

👁 jean-mor-uhoh

babe literally no one was thinking that but i'm proud of you for speaking your truth

#we're friends but what cost. when all u talk about is jeremy knox eating ass.

31 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

#dan wilds #psu

205 notes

🌄 softkevinday follow

He lived. He served cunt. He died. He was Resurrected. Served more cunt.

#kevin day

605 notes

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

absolutely busted a fucking nut watching kevin day switch hands like that oh my god my nut was so forceful it created a new dimension.

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

hey can i join you in that dimension

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

Sure, just bring some snacks or something

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

hell yeah!!!!!!

#thanks youre the best do you like doritos?

197 notes

😎 foxyknoxy

the best exy team in the nation is a LIBERAL ARTS COLLEGE how many of those students even go to the games when your school is full of artists and theater kids. your student section must be wACK

😎 foxyknoxy

*sorry, 2nd best exy team in the nation

#fuck you theater kids!!!!!!!! can't even appreciate a good sport !!!!! anyway go trojans

99 notes

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

Andrew Minyard should get a little bite and chew. As a reward. Maybe a small gnaw. nomnomnom Maaaaaybe as a treat he can rip a throat out, but only if he's really really good

#only if he's REALLY GOOD and maybe tests negative for rabies but whatever you can't win em all

126 notes

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

favourite exy rarepair????

☀️ usctrojanny

ACTUALLY !!!!! was thinking about this earlier and while ive never seen anyone talk about it.......aaron minyard and neil josten would be 👀 kinda cute???

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

omg wait why have I never thought about guys before!!!!!!!! noooo why did you say this, i can totally see it!!!!!! Neil would probably have to lean down to kiss aaron 🥺 do u think he has ever had to lean down to kiss someone 😭

☀️ usctrojanny

And obviously, u know me, im always here for a striker/backliner matchup

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

this is all i'm going to think about for the rest of my life now, thanks, fuck you

139 notes

👅 nastyneiljosten

I want to put neil josten in a jar and shake the jar so violently he turns into sludge and then pour a drop of that sludge on to a petri dish so I can see what kind of bacteria he produces.

🦩 exyonmymind follow

what happens to the rest of the sludge?

👅 nastyneiljosten

*sluuuuuuurp* *swallowing sounds* *sluuuurp* *gargle gargle* *more swallowing sounds* yummy yummy in my tummy

487 notes

🐋 sexyexy

headcannon that neil josten is so feral bc andrew bit him and gave him rabies so now he's a literal rabid dog

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

You can't make headcannons about real people don't be freaks

🐋 sexyexy

exy players aren't real they're my little dolls that I can put into any situations I want and you can't stop me

#thanks anyway did u know andrew minyard gave neil josten rabies

143 notes

🧸 mreow-bearcats-mreow

ARE THOSE REFS FUCKING BLIND ????????!

#exy lb

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

Kiss cams are only acceptable during sporting events if they zoom in on two players

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

ok but what if they're wearing a face mask

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

smash your cages together obviously, don't be a pussy #love wins

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

fair enough

890 notes

🌸 softexy

Andrew and Aaron Minyard

#exy #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #palmetto foxes #psu #web weave #poetry

2,040 notes

[icarusredwings]

Spoilers?

Thinking about the fact that the Master "adopted" all those kids with Lucy and seemed genuinely (at least a little bit) upset when they got taken out of time. It makes me wonder...

Did the Doctor know how much this would hurt him? The amount of grief and "what once was but never could be" feeling he wanted to share with someone?

Putting aside the fact that he used both the Toclafane and Lucy, do we think he was ever actually fond of them? Maybe im just delusional, but I think so. I know his entire thing is manipulation and that Lucy was a prop to get votes, but the way he pulls out the chairs,

leans against her,

calls her his faithful companion/ darling/sweetheart,

how she dances when the music comes on,

how proud he is to show her their millions of children, how even the doctor says she was loyal to him.

M: How many do you think?

L: I.. i don't know

M: Six-Billion *turns off music* Down, you go, kids!

He also calls them "His children" in the Last of the Time Lords.

It seems almost... domestic? In about as much domestic as this Master can get sort of way.

Im not at all surprised, but it makes me almost sad to know that he hits her. The first time I watched it, I was like, "...oh.." Because yes, it makes sense, heavily, and I know the point is to make the viewer feel yucky about the Master but like...

It kinda just makes you pitty them. You know? Because you see what they could have had, and you're like, "What happened?" Especially because they were together for 2 years. That's nothing to the Master but that's still longer than I would think, especially since he doesn't need her anymore but keeps her anyway as another trophy. The whole power trip thing is so odd to me. And telling another girl hes going to take her to the stars infront of her?

Lucy gave him what he deserved.

Imagine your husband abusing you for an entire year infront of his weird old ex friend and said friend gets treated like a dog/ trophy, so you shoot your husband and watch said trophy run over to him and cradle him in his arms....

like im so sorry, girl. You deserved so much more. Jack is literally looking up because he just can't with this bullshit..

TLDR:

"The Master, the villan, treated Lucy like shit. Shocker.. It's almost as if bad people do bad things Forest-"

Yeah, yeah, I know! I know! It just feels gross, okay? Because I know its suppose to feel uncomfortable but i just can't explain it. It feels how Girl in the Fireplace felt. Weird and kind of out of character. Especially since what I've seen of classic master, he's kind of a classy gentleman... But this IS simm were talking about... that little rabid trash goblin... aka a whole different species of Master.

Thanks for coming to my delusional tedtalk.

[ryuseibutgayer]

I’m hopping on the yamagishi agenda.. Yamagishi watching in awe as his girlfriend kicks ASS to protect him(and maybe mizo mid in general)

HIII thank you for your request!! <3 so sorry for the late reply :v I tried my best to provide the envisioning I thinnnnk you want? Hope I did :v let's beat some ASS, anon 😤

TW: beating up, Swearing, Makoto theft, blood mentions, Makoto pervy, Takuya future job reference

ꜱᴍᴀᴄᴋ ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ ᴇᴠᴇ

YAMAGISHI

• He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all. Then some assholes decided that he looked funny.

• The second he spoke up to try and defend himself even the tiniest sliver, he immediately regretted it as the tallest one stood closer to him with that ugly stretched neck look.

• The thing that Yamagishi wasn't clenched and prepared for was you to come flying out from behind him- landing your foot square on that ugly bitch's face

• Yamagishi thought he'd been hit actually, so he'd flinched and dropped his ass back against the pavement- you can imagine his face when he looked up and it was y o u kicking ass

• This boy would immediately get right back up and start trying to find the best angle to watch

• He would start SCREAMING cheers and supporting you kicking ass

• God knows he can't do it himself

• Once you come back over to him after handing them back their last ass, he'd hold your face in his hands and start saying the most self-berative thanks to you💀💀 he'd also question how the fuck you did that

• expect ice cream later, constant bowing for the next week, and maybe a little hesitation he has with you when horse playing

AKKUN

• Oh God not the pretty boy

• Why him

• 😭 people were makin fun of his clean looks n shit like they could look half as good

• They were right out at the front of the school (exhibitionist jackassed punks)

• Akkun was ready to fucking take it just to get it over with with a gritted face as the brown haired assholw held him up by his collar

• AND THEN BAMMO YOU COME IN FUCKIN UP THAT BASTARDS ARM, LETS GO (nice job)

• Akkun just fell and got dust in his eyes 😭 after he rubbed his scratched butt and rubbed the dirt out of his vision, you were on top of the guy?? Goddamn you rabid freak, girl go off beatin his ass like that

• Yeah Akkun was worried tho so he shouted a tiny bit after he figured the guy had enough and trieda pullya off a tad

• Once you were back on your feet, the both of you were standing there out of breath just looking at each other all bewildered like 😧

• Then akkun would speak up and ask you "where the hell did you learn that, y/n-"

• He'd end up barely listening to your explanation and drag you off to the school nurse for your little scratches and knuckles

• He's gonna make sure he walks you home that day to make sure you both have the time to talk about- alla that

• He'll ask you to try and keep it in check, but he'll definitely thank you- he's STILL shocked at that

• He'll ask you try and not get involved with his bs affairs, just to make sure you'll be safe and not get in trouble for anything he dragged you into

• Sweet pomp boy <3

TAKUYA

• Mr future drug dealer

• IM KIDDING, ITS OVER THE COUNTER LAXATIVES TFYM, COOL IT Y/N

• Anyways

• Yeahhhh he was approached by some cunty punk that heard he was getting good grades in his science classes and started pushing onto Takuya with his "will you tutor me?? 🥺" bullshit

• Takuya obviously just flat out tried to express he didn't wanna be associated with this guy and his grunts, even if it meant helping him out

• Guess what set the idiot off

• y/n I can't imagine how mad you must've been going around the school looking for your boyfriend just to find him shoved onto the floor by someone that wasn't you

• "Only I sexualize bullying my boyfriend you bitch" vibes

• so of course you knocked that low grade asshole in the side of the head

• Once you got that punk just dazzled and walking in a dumb little circle, Takuya got up in time to slug him in the jaw for the final pinch and bwoof, suddenly there's a punk on the floor

• Takuya just was so grateful and physically affectionate after that

• He'd check ya all around to make sure you're all set, give you a hug or a noogie, then you'd both walk to the infirmary (his favorite place <3) ew takuya

• expect giggles and shits in the nurse's office like two little psychos until you both went home to watch a movie together

MAKOTO

• Yeah he's a thief, so what? B)

• Makoto kinda stole some cash from this unattended wallllleeeeeet..

• It kinda belonged to a big bad guyyyy....

• And he was kind offff being held against the wall of the alley outside a grocery store you two planned to meet at that day to grab snackkkkks, soooo

• BWAM SLAM HIS FACE IN THE GLASS

• GET 'IM IN THE SPINE Y/N, GRAHHH

• You absolutely got that guy's blood all over the pavement, look at you go

•Makoto practically shit himself when he got approached by in the first place

• THEN he almost shit himself when someone kicked him in the head

• Makoto was this . close to leaking that shit down his pant leg when he realized the person beating up that delinquent was you.

•......girl.

• Imma be dead ass with you, Makoto is horrified, but from that point on it's an immediate turn-on.

• He's gonna suggest some weird ass service in order to thank you, but ofc what else

• HE'LL BUY YOU DINNER FIRST, DONT DISCARD HIS CLASS MK

• speaking of, he bought all the snacks you breathed on in that grocery store after.

[waywardsalt]

before i actually go through the phantom hourglass manga to critique it i’m going to quickly just toss out a bullet point list of things i actually liked in the ph manga

- i like how the stuff w/ tetra in the first chapter not only sets her up but serves to contrast how she is as a captain vs. how linebeck initially is as a captain. the line ‘as captain, nothing is more important than the lives of my crew’ specifically

- link’s cute. hes just a little guy

- i’m a big fan of the added detail that linebeck tends to stick out his bottom lip. it fits really well with his character. as a smaller side note i like the way his nose is drawn. i just like the shape they went with lol

- the bit with the point card for eddo’s garage that is specifically noted to be Not In The Video Game is good

- for all intents and purposes what is done with the bellumbeck fight is really good

thats it everything else i either feel neutral about or hate/feel frustrated with

[sparrowsortadrawzzz]

LEMME JUST RANT ABOUT URINETOWN FOR A SECOND NOW THAT MY ROLE IS OVER CUZ ITS SO GOOD-

see the crazy thing about urinetown is the paralells. like, we don't see Hope as this master manipulator, yet...she is???? she went to the most expensive university in the world for it?????

it first occurs in follow your heart, she practically plays with his feelings to get him to like her back (see her validating his feelings and using the "Why, my heart was saying the same thing just the other day!!" card), and from there, yes, the two are genuine, but you gotta admit, in follow your heart is she does use a bit of a persuasive direction.

then we see her manipulate again in the end when she leads the poor to UGC headquarters and. yknow. kills everyone 💀 she eventually becomes worse that her father by denying them any other option than. die from lack of basic needs, and leads their demise. ALSO SHE COULDVE AT LEAST LISTENED TO THE RESEARCH?? CONTINUED IT??? AND SAVED EVERYONE LIKE BOBBY AND CALDWELL WANTED?????? anyways-

also, Caldwell and Bobby were the same at one point. they had to have been. a poor boy in the midst of crisis has dreams to help the people of his community, so he rises up with the support of his people, and becomes a martyr...sounds like two people, doesn't it?

ALSO², PENNY AND CALDWELL ARE SO TRAGIC????? this young woman (who is perhaps a prostitute just to get by) and (probably) poor boy are in love, and once the water table drops and keeps dropping, they take a chance to give into their feelings and have their night together, which leads to their daughter Hope being born, and once that happens Caldwell has possibly already started his revolution, company, and rise to the top. so he takes their daughter (possibly so that she doesn't have to go through what he went through as a child), makes her promise to never tell Hope who she is, and becomes this hard, cold shell of a man he used to be, becoming someone Penny doesn't even recognize anymore. she doesn't love Cladwell, she loves Caldwell, the dreamer who once cared for all the people. and that's probably why she calls him such, to try and get her beloved back.

also erm lockstock how dare you just reject barrel like that-

HARRY AND BECKY ARE TOGETHER???? AND ARE ACTUALLY RABID??????? couple goals <33 /j

who tf is tiny tom, like, is he Harry and Becky's kid????

im obsessed with imagining what Penny and Caldwell were like before UGC

REMEMBER WHEN OUR NIGHT WERE STARRY????

arent you sorry..? (translation: "Are you sorry about loving and listening to me?")

..sure, I'm sorry.. (translation: "You probably want me to say I'm sorry for loving you because you no longer love me, and regret me.")

im not sorry.. (translation: "I STILL FUCKING LOVE YOU AGHHH-")

JUUUST UNNNNSOUNDDDD (translation: "WE STILL LOVE EACH OTHER AND NOW ONE OF US HAS TO DIE-")

all the original broadway cast photos are 2001 crunchy 😭

HAIL MALTHUS

making fun of and calling out the government and twisted cops >:)

the harmonies make me wanna ascend

okay that's all for now 💀💀💀