#( V. MODERN. )

[guttersniper]

@inrovina said: “trust me, would you?”

the windmill.

xeno's never been good at hiding when he's up to something. to mutt, it might as well be plastered all over his face for how poorly concealed it is to his keener eye.

"what are you going to do."

[f4rgd]

@oathwilled : ❛ i'm glad i came 'cause i get to eat this. ❜

His own job, if it could be called that, was flexible. It paid well enough now his name had spread from person to person but he didn't run to a schedule and it wasn't anywhere near as important as Paerin's, a fact he tried to keep in mind when he'd suggested the two of them drive away in his van for a night or two. He'd suggested a night, he'd hoped for two but he'd thought that silently. Aksel had gotten used to the others company, maybe more than he'd attended but the sex was one thing, his company another, but he was under no illusions, to even consider being in the others league would be delusional. They were very different people.

But it didn't matter when they were getting to enjoy one another's company, van parked up on the side of the road, the small barbeque lit so they could melt the marshmallows before turning them into s'mores with the rest of the ingredients. " I am glad you came, you saved me from myself. " He winked at the other and pulled the marshmallow of to squash it between the chocolate and crackers. " - but you may have to run home tomorrow if you're planning on getting up early, I will not be going anywhere fast after this. " At least now his foot had healed enough to allow him to drive for longer periods. " - or you could just stay. "

[nirnrootic]

@decidentia — for farkas, modern verse.

The Porcelli family puppeteered this city from the shadows. Those who dare knew their name would whisper it betwixt fearful breaths, hoping none with the connections and ears to match would catch air of it.

Mafia, people would say. Godfather, people would say. A mafia boss was neither “God,” nor “Father,” and only a twisted society could call them a contraction of the two. A society twisted by fear, subservience, and pliancy. The common man couldn’t touch them, nor could the police, nor any judicial system. Not unless they wanted to feel the brief, burning flicker of a steel capsule rocket through their supple brain.

And that was exactly how the Porcelli family liked it.

Being a member of the Porcelli’s was simultaneously a dusting of grace and a mishmash of one too many curses. It seemed like one of those curses—being nudged to mingle with the sons and daughters of those high up in the chain, people he’d rather wish would simply evaporate from the earth’s crust—would take the forefront tonight. They quipped at Edward, saying how they hardly see him outside, hardly see him do exercise or, in their words, getting buff. As he began to muster up a lie, saying he was busy with his studies, one of his sisters' shoved him forth and exclaimed how much he'd love that. A sharklike smirk unfurled across her lips, malice cushioning the skin around her sharp eyes. She knew how much he'd hate this, so obviously, she'd be all for it.

So, here he was. At a gym. He plodded around a bit, grudge filling each footfall like a chain of rocks lagging. Edward made idle conversation here and there with these so-called acquaintances of his before he slunk back to the furthermost wall. He shuffled his backpack off his shoulders, burrowed deep, and pulled free a novel that he proceeded to delve into.

He didn’t take much notice of the world around him—that was, until a shadow yawned over his form, shrouded the ink upon page. Edward quirked a long, thick brow. The man that stood before him was tall, broad, smattered in dew-like globs of sweat. He stunk, not necessarily of lack of hygiene, but rather, sheer exertion. Edward wasn’t sure he’d seen him before, but he hoped to God that the man hadn’t seen him before either, too.

“Um.” The word was punctuated loosely, nigh drawled, sucking his lips back just for a moment. “Can I help you?”

[623-74x]

dead man walking

—

or, cyberpunk 2077 tarot (the magician) but it’s ghost

[jainenkept]

@aqostate : 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ joint ] . + reverse.

the faster he makes up his mind, the faster he gets to smoke.  it's all he can think about as he searches the kitchen cabinet for snacks.  there's plenty to choose from,  of course,  but his stomach is leading this venture.  what exactly does it want?  somethiiing…  hmm. something salty?  with a crunch.  the way that it sounds when his brain is swimming in fog is divine.  he wants–  oh,  julien.

ignatius turns his head when he hears familiar footsteps enter the kitchen. the corners of his lips raise ;  the usual response to seeing his beloved. a giggle accompanies the smile when he spots the joint hanging from julien’s lips.  the very one that's supposed to be kicking off their night.  it's not lit yet,  a little to his surprise. are you waiting for me? he wonders. he hopes.

“ you can get started without me,  my love.  i’ll only be a minute.  i’m just trying to– ”   choose. a simple gesture to the open cabinet in front of him should suffice as an explanation, but it's already fairly obvious.  the mage snaps his fingers and a flame will ignite at the end of his thumb,  which he proceeds to hold out to the other.  ignatius will watch as julien leans in to finally light their joint,  and he lets the flame go out before he turns to face him.  he starts to lean in as julien takes that first drag,  and he'll pluck it from his lips as he's holding the smoke.  rather than take a hit of his own,  iggy reaches up with his free hand and grabs jules’ jaw before leaning in even further and pressing a kiss to his lips.  just a peck. his lips linger against his lover’s,  and it's clear that he's waiting.  a pleased little hum sounds in his throat when the smoke comes,  his lips parting to accept it.  his eyes close for just a moment as he inhales and holds.  a smile on his face once more as he pulls back and returns the joint to between julien's lips.  ignatius exhales,  releasing the smoke from his lungs,  as the index finger on the hand still holding julien's jaw begins to stroke against the underside of his chin slowly. “ go on ahead and relax,  baby, ”   he tells him softly.   “ i won't be long. ”

[kcdoos]

TETOTETOTETO 💥💥💥

[demaparbat-hp]

How would Spirit Touched Zuko from For the Spirits AU and Nonbeliever Zuko from Dandadan AU react to each other?

DDD Zuko did not sign up for this.

[sengenism]

gen is next to senku like, 90% of the time just to stand there and look pretty while going "ohhhh?" when senku explains science stuff

[alex--max]

'The future of Army aviation is in motion'

Bell’s V-280 Valor tiltrotor, winner of the U.S. Army’s FLRAA program, now has an official designation. The MV-75 is set to replace the Black Hawk, offering twice the speed and range with next-gen maneuverability and mission versatility, including in special operations missions.

The 101st Airborne Division "Screaming Eagles" at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, will be the first to receive the MV-75 Future Long-Range Assault Aircraft.

[guttersniper]

@inrovina

" you're worse than a dog. " the twitch gracing one corner of his mouth is more wryly judgmental than amused. 

yes, he does recognize the irony. " wipe your face. "

[f4rgd]

@oathwilled : “ I’m not sick! I’m fine! ” ( liar )

The sun had started to rise and he'd woken all too easily for a man who had had such broken sleep. He'd spent the night glancing over towards Paerin, the various noises, sniffs and even heat coming off of him, not the comforting kind, had kept him awake. Maybe he would have been able to sleep if he hadn't been so determined to keep watch over him, but he had been, so broken sleep, drifting in and out getting thirty minutes here and there had been his only option.

They'd talked about going away on one of the many getaways Aksel had had planned out, he'd invited Paerin to come with him even before they'd made their relationship official and with bags packed, plans only a day away, it now looked like they weren't going anywhere. Not that he minded, he didn't care really, he'd rather be here than dragging the other man around sick.

" I knew you were stubborn but I had no idea just how stubborn until this moment. " Aksel catches Paerin's wrist to tug him around to face him properly. " I have been up all night listening to you sniffing and wheezing, not to mention you are - " His hand raised, the back of it pressed to his forehead. " - burning up, as I thought. Go back to bed, please? You will just make yourself more sick if you do not. " He'd intended to work but he could soon rearrange those plans. " Is it so terrible to have your boyfriend wait on you all day long? "

[zevrra]

[priest!jayce x fem!reader / nsfw / mdni]

priest!jayce has always been a good little student. a faithful man to his church and his god. always the soft and the kind man he has been taught to be…until he meets you.

when he used to pray for times of peace; he now only prays for forgiveness of his own sin.

and at first, it was lighthearted thoughts and the occasional flush seeing you across the church hall. the soft thought of how pretty you looked in morning light or the perfect way you recited prayers; the heavenly perfume you wore that he smelled constantly, even if you weren’t in the room. but these little thoughts slowly transformed into something…unholy.

he, the more he desired you, the worse his mind crumbled. his thoughts of how pretty the dress you wore turned into thoughts of him taking you out of the dress. watching as the fabric crumbled under his hands—so tenderly—as he removed the dress from your body. thoughts of kissing your cheek in passing or in greeting, soft and light, turned into his desire to taste your mouth on his.

and it only got worse. no matter how many trips to the confession booth he took, or the amount of praying, the distancing, the pleas…it all just got worse. he desired—no yearned—for you. his sleepless nights of you haunting him while his trembling hands roamed over his body, pretending they were yours; a ghost in his room to whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he committed sin. biting his lip hard enough to bleed at the thought of him making you his. kissing you, kissing your skin, tasting every inch of your exposed skin as his fingers delved between your thighs while you utter his name like a prayer—

god forgive him if he ever got to taste that sweet cunt of yours.

[guttersniper]

he's not smiling. what lila sees is not a smile.

whatever it is, mutt's not-smile feels relieved. he bends down to retrieve the butt. he'll put it in the next ash urn he sees.

<< i never said i liked it. >> he never said he hated it, either. << now you can say you've smoked a cigarette. that's a leg up. >> a beat. << you don't have to tell them you failed miserably. >>

the not-smile returns to one corner. just messing with her.

AS NAIVE OF A QUESTION AS IT IS, LILA IS SO IN HER HEAD THAT SHE DOESN'T REALLY NOTICE.

Lila watches him instruct her, then nods solemnly. She breathes in smoke, then exhales.

...and almost immediately, she's overcome with a coughing fit. It would startle her if she could hear it—herself making this much noise. She usually is so intentional about being the ideal little mute girl.

She gags. It's unseemly.

She throws the cigarette down, steps on it with her foot.

<<You like that stuff? You're crazy. Crazy!>>

[reverienco]

slice of life modern AU :]

[just-null]

Oh dear cult leader, Please ANYTHING Aizetsu and/or Sekido (if u have time ofc)

He was sore afterward

[guttersniper]

@vitalphenomena as spirit said: it's strange, isn't it, what sticks with you and what doesn't.

women of brewster place.

an unseen flinch occurs. he doesn't like talking about himself. mutt makes himself sit straighter, hands linked together in the triangle gap between his folded legs. better this way, he thinks.

the question—if it can be called that—doesn't read like she's seeking an answer from him, from anyone. instead, there's a current of something hungry and urgent under her voice like she just wants to be heard, to be listened to. an answer only she can give herself.

it was tiny, the flicker in her eyes, barely there, but mutt saw.

"yes." a safe answer. agreement, not giving away too much. (fact is, he never disagreed with her, even with his knee-jerk self-preservation.)

he inches forward, metaphorically, with his next prompt. "d'you want to tell me about something?"