#ask reply.

[zat4nna]

[ hair & lean ]  –  for the sender to brush a strand of hair out of the face, and lean in slowly for a kiss.

zatanna remembers what it is like to be kissed by john constantine. it's just the two of them, she does not know why she let him so close. but it's easy. it's easier than running and trying to put a sea between them. she's looking at him and he's older, stopped being that young man she fell in love with. it's not like he has changed, but maybe she has, the circumstances certainly have. she sees him and she does not see the fire, or death looming grim over his shoulder. she just sees him, getting lost on blue eyes. he leans in. and the old zatanna would've moved away. the old zatanna would have been upset. but she's been livining stuck in the past, like a broken record, living like a ghost, like she was the one who died.

but her mind clears, her cheeks warm. and her hands on his shoulders, the hesitation of pushing melts into the intent of pulling him just that little bit closer. leans closer and faster than him. a conscious decision. zatanna almost melts into it, the tension leaving her body. and she remembers, it's this very silly warm feeling. it's like casting magic without any of the words. she's twenty again, it's all the good with none of the bad. the rub of his stubble, the way the smell of cigarettes kisses the airs. damn you, john constantine.

[polarnoid]

you're wearing my shirt. /peteradam

peter quill's life tends to go a little faster, there's no hitting the breaks. from planet to planet, credit numbers only getting bigger. dealing with people outside of just himself and whatever poor soul decided to go home to him that night. it's gotten a whole lot of complicated. now he plays babysitter for the best people for the craziest jobs. (he won't admit how much they play babysitter for him. but that's besides the point.) in this moment, his life pushed the break pedal fast enough he's still feeling the whiplash.

but he's still human, he gets tired, he gets...curious. so let's say that it is intentional, this thing with adam warlock of all people. all beings. that it wasn't an accident or peter being real easy. then what? he's rubbing his eyes back into focus. zeroed in on the shirt he's wearing. that's the thing about uniforms, you get them mixed up. he nearly went into the common area like that. "shit, man." he smiles, looking still at the shirt before looking at adam. doing his very best trying not to recall last night's activities. and after a moment of silence their gazes meet and. the best way to describe it, it's like a movie. time froze and music played somewhere else to decorate the moment. he clears his throat. "-i can give it back if you. want it? or we can swap." smooth, quill. real smooth. he's trying not to let the idea of adam wearing any of his shirts get to him. besides it's a shirt. no one's going to notice. peter's hands on the hem of his shirt. ready to take it off, if @sordidery asked.

[forfuse]

Thread / scenario idea: The AU in which Hound's people live in the most desolate parts of the deserts of Salvo. Walter has to flee from a fight he's not winning and crashes a ship in the worst place to crash one. Hound saves his life by carrying him back home and nursing him back to health >:)

walter is best under pressure. many have said this. in this precise moment he isn't too sure about it. ship crashed, head pounding. and it doesn't feel like he's in the ship where he was supposed to be. his body hurts and he recognizes that, what he doesn't recognize is everything else. there's someone else in the room, he can see them moving. everything is a blur still, he can't focus on anything.

"oi." it's raspy, like he hasn't used his voice in a while. busts out the winning smile. whoever it is, walter feels out of place. he doesn't trust anyone that isn't maggie, but he isn't fucking dead. lucky that. so, this is all he has. "-am i dreamin'?" he feels fuzzy at the edges, the pain not sharp enough to snap him back into himself in the way he is used to.

[puhddin]

what's in it for you?

harley is all but smiles. her eyes have gone all starry! she has to look up, and for once she isn't necessarily doing anything bad. (she's been relatively well behaved recently.) "well now that ya' asked, doll." she clears her throat, trusts @truthqueen (out of anyone on planet earth) would understand. "-there's this guy, among the bad eggs yer' trynna' catch. he's got like a crazy bounty on that head of his. and little ol' me would just loooove to get my hands on it." she pulls out the paper where she printed out the relevant information. and she holds it out for her to take. the smile not wiping from her face. "-i know that a girl like ya', well, wowzers! there's nothin' ya' can't do, but i'm an excellent sidekick, just ask anyone ya' know!" maybe not batman. but, who knows maybe he's given her glowing reviews.

[anquenin]

he cups his face gently, rough bandaged hands against pale skin. oh, he's still shaking, oh, there's still that tremor running through his whole body. fear flickering behind brown eyes that he cannot quite hide. ( there's blood on the edge of his lip, his chin, such violence in the name of him, in his protection. gale hates how much it excites him. ) "may i kiss you?" soft, wrecked as it is, this shaky breath as he pulls astarion closer closer, so that gale is pressed between him and the wall. ( safer, because astarion will protect him and the closer astarion is then the safer he is. he feels raw, exposed, here, now. even in the cover of the alleyway and the night. ) it is hardly proper, this. them. maybe it's the still adrenaline in his veins from the sudden attack, or the ragged heat of the vampire's breath against his skin. "please, may i..." it dies off, desperate, whimpering. he doesn't know how else to express his gratitude.

astarion’s instincts kicked in, the moment flashed and passed and before he knew it there’s a body, carnage, blood dripping, staining his finger tips, breath jagged slightly. an undead heart beating, there’s this lingering feeling of pride with it all. gale was safe, gale was alive. how quaint how funny this job had stopped feeling like a job so long ago. it felt like it was his own life, everything on the line. red eyes busy, looking over his shoulder scanning for anything else…he feels him shake a hand cupping his face and it brings him back, and he hears him. may I kiss you? he asks, and game sounds so bare so genuine, scared but not of astarion. and he lets himself be pulled. who is he to deny him? and astarion folds. leans in closer, he’s never been the one to fantasize about someone. he doesn’t think he deserves something like this, in fact what they are doing may be considered beyond dangerous, but he isn’t above a reward. a creature made to kill, to maim, and all he wants in this moment is to comfort gale. he’s safe, he’s made sure of it. as long as it's possible to do so. he'll make sure of it. "of course, my lord..." it's teasing, playful. perhaps with the intent to make him settle. to tell him that it's fine, that he's alright now.

his hand moves, holds gale's face gently. (stains his face, perhaps he’s staining something else. this isn’t his place. this isn’t what he’s meant to be doing and astarion does not care.) he smirks, knowing. with a hand on the wall to hold onto he kisses him. slow, not careful of his fangs. the taste of blood spilled, and the taste of gale. astarion isn't soft, so his kisses aren't either. but he can be sweet, and at least to start and to savour he moment. he is going to be sweet. hand delicate and precise when it shifts to hold and angle up gale's head slightly, to deepen the kiss. which isn't selfless at all, astarion is greedy and he wants what he cannot possibly have. covers him, from spying eyes, from the night.

@netherill

[bhaalbie]

wanna kiss?

it's a sly little smile the one that comes over her lips. she opens her arms, welcoming only to her. "-why i thought you would never ask."

[baldursgoons]

❛ you're completely out of your element here, aren't you? ❜ ( varric for tyran! )

tyran looks at varric, tries to subdue any of the feelings that suddenly emerged from a place being so alive, their quiet little camp suddenly a host to a party, and everyone is so alive and there isn't a fight. not tonight. and this is when tyran tries to swallow down the panic that so deeply ingrains itself within him. he doesn't even drink, he doesn't think he is the type of person to drink. "-am i that transparent?" he smiles, something boyish and shy. swallowing down the panic that decided to creep upon him. there's concern about a multitude of things, finding halsin and saving the grove...was only the start, and tyran can feel it. he does not want to admit it but the only moment he felt in his element was blade dug deep in guts, the blood splattering upon his face, the adrenaline of a kill, how it so sweetly sang to him. and yet. " i have come to the conclusion that i am not the partying type. i do not think i am the people type either, if i am being honest." something stirs within him, sick of the life, that yearns to extinguish it. he swallows it and dares not to dwell in it.

@immobiliter

[baldursarchive]

[ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds [FOR HEX LMFAO]

hex's arm stings, it's painful and she can feel the blood dripping out of it slowly, streams of red fall down down down. she does not dare look at it. failure, lack of perfection. her good arm too, the one that does the shooting. the one that hits the targets. it's annoying. she rubs a hand on the buzzcut, she isn't used to be patched up. not everything can be zapped better. (she's learn to, even people who do magic have their limits) her eyes flicker to shadowheart, expertly bandaging her arm. "-you know i totally had that guy. i had him, shadowheart. i was about to ram the knife into him and he got me. how annoying that is, when they get you and they do not even live to see it. they just die. and you're stuck with a bleeding wound. or any type of wound for that matter. fuck." she tries not to move but she isn't the best to be patching up, not when she's antsy unable to settle. she isn't used to being around groups, she usually has to do this all on her own. it's easier to talk shadowheart's ear off instead of anything else. (hex does not want to think what that could mean)

@shdowheart

[islandiis]

Right now, when you read this ask, what is your muse doing at this present moment?

The past two weeks I think Fannar has been in pretty bad health since there is so much going on seismologically — but the past day or two it's been marginally better so I think he's gotten out of bed, gotten showered etc. He's anticipating things are going to get worse again tho, so he's making the most of it while he can.

Right now, he's probably at his desk, wrapped up in blankets and still in pyjamas but trying to get some work done — and Mjási is asleep on his unmade bed behind him. It's raining right now and he's got a warm drink and it's kinda cozy honestly.

[noodles-and-tea]

Don’t worry, bud, Bruce will get it eventually…

[polarnoid]

is that a hickey? /natbucky

he freezes in place. takes only a second to re-adjust. bucky isn't seen by many, besides work he doesn't go outside much. his hand lands right on top of his bruised skin. fingers brush it. and bucky isn't a virgin, he doesn't blush, he doesn't get flustered but under nat's hot stare, that's a different story. bucky tries to think of the words that would best fit the situation. gets reminded of how that hickey got there in the first place.

his eyes linger. reaches for her, for her hand, enveloping her in him. soft and slow. it's inviting the hunter in. he can read nat most times but in this moment he isn't sure if his instincts are deceiving him surely, it can't be. "-yes." it's soft. quiet. adorned with half a smile. his face hot. "it would be a really weird place for a regular bruise wouldn't it?" she couldn't possibly be jealous. and if she isn't jealous then he can't feel this delightful little feeling either. settling in his chest. he's giddy.

[forfuse]

[ WILLOW ] sender embraces receiver in a moment of extreme distress. (reciprocity go brr)

it's this heavy thing. and walter can't even put it into words. he'd seen it coming, a mile away. he couldn't do jack shit about it. his dad's words still ring somewhat true, he's a coward, he's a loser, why can't he be better? how can he not fight his own fights? he's pathetic, weak.

and it's sadness what he feels most, it's a deep pit at the center of himself. shaking, he planted a line set it down with the hope of a break, like he's underwater and he needs to come up for air. and maggie. well, maggie's here. holding him, he'd been strung up, line taut. this being the part where he breaks.

"fuck, mags." it's comes out breathy, between empty laughter. manic in a way he hasn't felt before. "-can't bloody believe it." and he talks, because if he talks then it means he's okay and if he's okay then it's fine. as if he didn't just pick the last fight with his dad. as if he didn't push and punch back for the first time, packed a bag up and left. "-fuckin' real messed up now, aye?" he hides on her neck. something so tender he couldn't even asked, glad she gave it anyway, so glad for her. walter wouldn't know where to be if it weren't for maggie. he's not thinking it all the way through just letting her see him like this, he's just doing it.

[puhddin]

[ HIDE ]: sender tackles the receiver to the ground, out of sight, in order to stop them from being seen.

"OOF!" it's loud and abrupt. harley's view of the world goes sideways before being met with a whole lotta john @const4ntine on her face, harley likey! "hey! take a girl out f'dinner first." she tries to move her head, finding the angle in which she can see. harley does not know what they're supposed to be hiding from, she doesn't lower her voice. her hands wraps around his arm trying to slide herself to see only stops when it's clear that they should be hiding. he reeks of cigarettes and booze, like damn! pack a mint. harley thinks she has one in her pockets. she should look for it. "who's trynna kill us now, jc? the boogeyman? the devil? ever since i found out 'bout hell 'nd fairies bein' real...i've been wantin' to meet the devil." her voice gets quieter as she talks, they're hiding.

[011945]

[ PASSENGER ]:  sender  touches  receiver  while  sender  is  driving. /+ from nat :D

hands on the wheel. eyes on the night road, barely illuminated by the headlights. stolen vehicle, they reported themselves in. comms are off, and if they knew what nat got up to once things where said and done and they were heading back, they wouldn't send her in with bucky.

his breath hitches, and he stops looking at the road for just a second. bucky doesn't meet her eyes, she's looking elsewhere. it's makes him chuckle slightly, the seriousness he usually carries himself with just melts. granted this isn't a bad moment since it's just them, but the danger of it, the thrill...well, it's doing something alright.

"nat." it's breathy barely there, the sound of her name. it's not a reprimand, it's simply him acknowledging what she's doing. it's this game they play and for the most part she could get away with anything. he would let her. time and time again. he feels hot, shivers slightly. some how some way she keeps finding ways to put him on the spot. and he keeps being okay with it. he holds the steering wheel a bit tighter. swallows.

@kuhblooey

[bhaalbie]

i don't like these people . but i like you .

the comment makes lavender eyes slowly rise to meet @palespawn’s face. and dahlya isn’t some sweet doe eyed girl, she is a creature of violence of malice, something inside of her wanted to eat the world. but the words get to her. ( a part of her wanted to pretend, to think that she could indulge. ) she’s attempting to read his tone, how sincere could someone like astarion be. and perhaps he wasn’t lying…maybe it had to do with her in comparison to the rest. she decides to hide partly behind some teasing.

“is that so?” she can’t help it a smile blossoms neatly lies upon her face. “-you like me? am I the only one you like?” she walks towards him, hands behind her back, tail wagging almost gently “…if you tell me, maybe I’ll indulge you, let you know how you fair against the others on my list.” she diverts her gaze then, keeps her hands to herself, simply finding herself close to him.

[baldursarchive]

i have a very disciplined mind.   [gale for alice!]

her ear twitches slightly, glass blue eyes looking over the forest that extends beyond their campsite, alice...unused to the presence of company, or at least company from this realm. is trying to recall how to act, what to say. she may seem stern, unresponsive. and yet. her mind encapsulates an entire land, vast and treacherous to walk upon. her head tilts, long raven hair falls to a side, as her eyebrow perks up. "hmm." she starts, what may follow is perhaps the most words she has said to someone. in this case. gale. a wizard, so unusual, wizards tend to stay far from wonderland. it is ever too chaotic and misunderstood for their knowledge and books to click well together. that she understands to an extend. "-you seem to have one. yes. i have noticed. you remind me too much of my sister. liz. her mind was perhaps too disciplined...she offered guidance and led by example...for me to follow suit, it never truly did work i have a wandering stubborn head, a problem child and i suppose a problem adult now... you are not here to haunt me in her absence are you, wizard?" her hands rest atop of her blade, a greatsword with a silver glow. another one of the gifts from the land of wonder. a type of magic quite unfamiliar to the one seen in this world.

@baldursgay2