Thus from the grains of thought forming the veritable and indestructable atoms of its stuff, the universe—a well-defined universe in the outcome—goes on building itself above our heads in the inverse direction of matter which vanishes. The universe is a collector and conservator, not of mechanical energy, as we supposed, but of persons. All round us, one by one, like a continual exhalation, 'souls' break away, carrying upwards their incommunicable load of consciousness. One by one, yet not in isolation. Since, for each of them, by the very nature of Omega, there can only be one possible point of definitive emersion—that point at which, under the synthesising action of personalising union, the noosphere (furling its elements upon themselves as it too furls upon itself) will reach collectively its point of convergence—at the ‘end of the world'.
Warner: Omega Point members are the most insanely idiotic people I have the displeasure of interacting with.
Winston, referring to himself and Kenji: Even us?
Warner: Especially you guys.
Kenji:
Winston:
Kenji: Petition to kick Warner out so he stops insulting us.
Winston: Seconded.
I have been meaning to do a crossover with the one and only @kathaynesart for such a long time! And the @tmntaucompetition has created the perfect excuse for this :)
I think Sprout and Omega would have a surprising amount in common, they have a lot they can talk about with one another!
Only Crosshair could have let her go in that moment. Crosshair, who's learned not only to trust Omega but to respect her autonomy. Who knows what it means to be the cause of your loved one's pain for reasons outside of your control. Who's willing to risk everything to honor her wishes.
And only Omega could have convinced him to do it. Omega, the one person who never gave up on him. Who taught him that people can change for the better, even himself. The person for whom his hand doesn't shake when the shot really matters.
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I was devastated when he failed to hit them with the tracker. It's not often that Star Wars shocks me, but I needed to let the credits roll as it sank in that he really missed.
It would have been so easy for the writers to give them the win here. For this to be the culmination of all their character growth this season. Don't get me wrong, I'm not mad about it. This is fantastic. I have no idea what's going to happen next. The writers are making some brave choices this season, and I am so here for it.
through the mask, slobbering on his hands and knees like the mutt he truly is; like his only salvation is the ichor that drips between your thighs. like your cunt is the only thing that could save his wretched, blackened soul. he wants to roll in the tang that'll stay on the back of his tongue for weeks into deployment, that'll stay soaked into the fabric of his balaclava because fok no he isn't washing it before he leaves (he'll nearly tears the thing to shreds when he can no longer smell you on it).
large, calloused palms scratch over the sensitive skin of your quads and inner thighs as he opens you up for him, watches your folds part like that of a carnation (love, devotion, distinction, fascination) as he pushes your knees up to your chest. drags his tongue all over you, the creases where your vulva and thighs meet and gets you shaking before he's even touched your clit. before he's even taken the mask off. brushes his thumb over the little bud reverently, fondly. he thinks the way your thighs tremble in response is the most precious fucking thing.
and when he finally breaks watching you drip onto the cushions below, he's feral. rabid. barely gets the damned mask up to free his mouth before he's on you again, slurping up your slick and sucking your clit into his mouth. the suction is heavenly after so much teasing, and if his tongue finds its way to your ass too, that's his business. your toes curl in the air where your feet dangle uselessly, panties you're sure that simon will pocket later still around one ankle.
simon's relentless when he's like this, a dog chasing after it's favorite toy. he won't let up, won't even palm over his cock until you're at least three climaxes deep from his mouth alone. totally pussydrunk and ready for more.