#xcutioner

[qin-qin16]

for the sanshipping: dust teaching cross how to flirt. i think it will be cute if dust is lowkey flirting with cross (terribly of course), and cross is flustered by the attention :)

[Xcutioner, Cross doesn’t know how to flirt, poor guy, verbal dust here, we bully Cross in this house…]

note: first sans ship ask done!

"Wait, are you saying you've never...?" Dust let the words hang, hoping Cross would complete them. 

That is, if the poor skeleton hadn't curled up on the couch, hiding the purplish blush on his face beneath his long scarf.

“Seriously?” Dust exclaimed in disbelief, lightly shaking the cigarette between his fingers. “I always thought you were the type that made guys and girls run after you.” A laugh escaped his teeth as Cross replied something, but all Dust could hear were some incoherent grumbles, muffled by the ever-present scarf.

Taking one last drag from the cigarette, Dust adjusted himself more comfortably against the couch's armrest, watching Cross burrow deeper into the cushions. “You don’t need to be embarrassed; it’s common for people not to know how to flirt.” There was no comfort in Dust’s voice; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy making Cross even more nervous, grinning mockingly at the curled-up figure beside him.

Seeing his teasing take effect, Dust couldn’t suppress the lazy smile that reached his eyes, especially when Cross quickly emerged from beneath the scarf, revealing his skull painted with embarrassment.

“I know how to flirt!” he corrected, not very confident but still brave enough to meet Dust’s gaze — feeling small under those two red orbs that glimmered mischievously beneath the hood.

“Yeah?” Dust flicked the cigarette lightly in the air, letting some ashes fall onto the carpet as he turned to face Cross more fully. “Then flirt with me.” It wasn’t a request; Cross knew an order when he heard one.

Cross’s eyes darted up and down on Dust, searching for any crack in his composure, but the skeleton remained impenetrable. His gaze stayed fixed on Cross, savoring his nervousness like a fine dish.

“Uh… um…” Cross had never sounded so pathetic before. All that came out of his mouth were incoherent murmurs, embarrassed wordless sounds that exposed his inexperience.

The brief glimpse he caught of Dust beneath the hood — a smug expression, almost amused by the situation — made him look down, defeated by his own embarrassment.

However, Dust wouldn’t let such a delightful moment end so quickly.

Bringing his gloved hand to Cross’s face, Dust gently traced his fingertips over the other’s purple cheeks before firmly gripping his jaw and lifting his face — two white dots staring back at him again, both trembling under his gaze.

“Ah, ah, ah, eyes on me, pretty boy~” he purred, no longer an order but more of a request that Cross quickly complied with a soft whimper.

Dust took another drag from his cigarette, savoring the moment before releasing a puff of smoke into Cross’s blushed face — watching him squirm in his grip, coughing lightly as the smoke filled his nostrils.

Giving his face one last squeeze, Dust let him go, returning his hand to his pocket.

“Heh, you’re really terrible at this.”

“But—I didn’t even try!”

Dust let out a dark chuckle before letting his arm drop to his side — the smoke rising slowly. “You didn’t need to; your whimper was enough.” He laughed even louder when Cross curled back into his spot among the cushions, once again hidden beneath his white scarf.

[nitpickrider]

Dude you attacked the most personally popular mutant on the planet, the one most likely to get the "one of the good ones" badge from even the most stuck up asshole in the room, and you did it DURING her award's ceremony at the fucking Grammys! YOU are personally responsible for her album's next two rounds of platinum! X Men Unlimited Infinity 104

[xmencovered]

Fleer Ultra X-men - Series 2 (1995) #53 X-Cutioner - Art - Lou Harrison

[what-have-i-unleashed]

your hand-grenade heart

gift for lovely moot @qin-qin16. happy early birthday!! (better early than late lol) hope you don't mind lovers-to-enemies (... or is it) crossdust :3

2k+ words of sadness. no warnings applied... i think.

cross isn't sure what part of the multiverse he has stumbled into. it was a stupid decision he made on the fly, opening his own portal inside of nightmare's own to prevent the guardian of negativity from dragging him back to the hell he knows nightmare would love to put him through again. the sudden time-space disruption caused a small implosion to happen, flinging cross across the dimensional stream until he landed face-first into the hard surface of lava-surrounded rocks.

and now, he's here in this barren universe, this empty underground, walking all the way to the lab to figure out where he is. the dead silence is messing with him quite a bit - an unfortunate aftereffect after living in a white space with virtually no one else (apart from xchara) for who knows how long. he takes a deep breath in and marches forward, resolutely ignoring the deluge of frantic thoughts starting to bubble up in his mind.

when he finally arrives at his destination, the first thing he does is checking the security footage on the computer in the lab, which dates back at least two years as he can see. he skims through the footage - no soul pops up on the monitor at all. this place has been dead for a long time, which is... unsettling. is this a pacifist timeline where monsterkind has all moved to the surface? or is this a failed genocide timeline that the human refused to properly delete for some reason? either way, he has to get out of here as fast as possible.

the thing is, his multiverse travel token has been broken since his fall into this universe. without xchara's powers, cross is essentially out of luck. he doesn't think he's knowledgeable enough about the mechanics behind travel tokens to fix his own.

which means he's basically a sitting duck for anyone coming across him right now. nightmare will find him before dream can, judging by how hard cross is sweating right now.

happy thoughts, cross! he thinks to himself. happy thoughts!

easier said than done, honestly. being stuck in an angel-damned universe with no obvious dimensional travel technology is a terrible situation.

... wait. he just remembers something. killer and dust often commented on how the machine in the basement under the snowdin's house is probably designed for time-space shenanigans. it might be broken, as it is usually is in most universes, but maybe its magic signature is similar enough to that of a travel token for him to charge the token up again.

it is a farfetched idea, but he has to try regardless.

his trip to snowdin is less nerve-wracking than he thought. there's something both soothing and frightening about the white snowy landscape. there's a familiar scent in the air, an electrifying taste in the snowfall that makes cross stop in his tracks.

... it can't be, right?

cross opens the door to the house at the end of snowdin, and-

-and dust greeted him with a tired mumble from the couch. cross grinned and stole a quick peck on dust's forehead, making the hooded skeleton blink in surprise at him.

"rough day?" cross asked, to which dust nodded, quieter than he usually was. an especially tough day then.

cross hummed, joining his boyfriend on the couch. he snuggled into dust's slightly larger frame, and dust made a half-indignant half-pleased purr in his throat. cross purred back, stretching himself so that his cheek was pressed on dust's collarbones. he saw, from the corner of his eyes, dust clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides, as if he was conflicted on whether to hold cross in his arms or not. dust's body was cold, but cross didn't mind that. he waited for his body heat to gradually trickle to dust, his layered uniform keeping him warm enough in this forever-snowy weather.

as time went by, dust hesitantly wrapped his arms around cross and pulled him closer. both of them stayed there on the couch, indulging in each other's closeness. cross let out a satisfied rattle deep inside his bones. he wished this idyllic scene could go on forever and ever and-

-and he feels like he has been blasted back to the past. the couch is still the same, or maybe it has gotten even dustier. it doesn't surprise him - he was the tidier between them two after all. what surprises him is that the house is not destroyed. everything is the same as it was, as if stuck in time, a photograph of a memory left untouched in a house of still lingering ghosts. cross traces his hands on the coffee table. his hand picks up a fine layer of dust.

his feet lead him to the kitchen next, where he sees the first sign of difference: a bunch of wine bottles discarded on the floor that no one has bothered to clean up. the fridge is not closed, emitting another breeze of coldness into the atmosphere. cross sits at the dining table, as if he's in a trance, as if he's dreaming. it's been so long, and yet everything is the same.

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to feel. he puts his shaky hands on the table and-

-and waited for dust to put his plate on the table. it was a bit embarrassing, being shooed off the kitchen because he didn't know how to cook anything else but soldier rations. dust was kind enough to ban him to the dining table and order him to stay still so he could fix the surprise, now fire hazard, that cross had intended for his boyfriend.

when dust placed the dish in front of cross, the soldier didn't know what to do but hang his head in shame. dust took the seat across from him and started eating.

"dig in," dust told him, and cross reluctantly picked up his spoon and slowly ate through it.

"uhm, look..." cross stammered, embarrassed. "i'm sorry about the fire. i didn't know the stove would do that..."

"it's fine," dust said, flippantly. "it wasn't a big fire anyway."

"yeah, but still..."

"i think it's quite cute of you to try to cook a surprise meal for me, cross," dust interrupted what cross had to say, and cross flushed.

"oh! uh..." cross scratched his head, laughing nervously. "it's our one-year anniversary. i just wanted to make you something nice..."

dust looked at him, a smile in his white eyelights. "like i said, it's cute. i appreciate it." he looked down at his plate. "no one has given me a nice gift in a long time."

cross felt his face get even hotter. he placed his spoon on the table, ready to say the words he'd been putting off for a while, and-

-and he resists the urge to flip it. is it anger singing in his veins, or frustration? or something else? he can't tell. all the memories here are suffocating in its sweetness, as if taunting him with a past that is no more.

it's dangerous to feel this way towards an enemy. it's his job now to protect other people from nightmare and his gang. penance for what he has done.

and yet, he can't help walking up the stairs. he can't help opening the door to their bedroom. he can't help staring at the untouched state of it. his - or more like dust's now - little plushies are still on his corner of the bed they have picked and put in the room. his shelf of comics are still there next to dust's shelf full of fiction novels. the crudely molded little ceramic rabbit he has made for dust still sits on the table, facing the window. everything is the same as it was. the same as the day he left dust behind.

*creaaak*

he doesn't know how long he has stood there at the doorway, but when he hears a click at the front door, his panic skyrockets. he quickly dashes inside the closet (where he briefly finds his monochrome clothes are still there) and holds his breath as he hears creaking footsteps coming upstairs and into the room.

peeking through the gap of the doors, he sees him. dust. his ex-lover. sitting silently on the bed, unmoving, staring outside of the window with his dull white eyelights. it's usually unsettling to see a silent dust on the battlefield, but in the domestic atmosphere of the house, dust's silence reads more as melancholic than dangerous. cross hasn't seen him like this in a long time. so still. so tranquil. so... pitiful. gone is the ferocious cannon of nightmare - what's left here is a broken vestige of a lonely being, trapping himself inside a house stuck in the past. he looks unhealthy, as if one breeze can take him down easily.

cross moves to see his former flame better, but then he accidentally steps on a coat hanger. a loud sound echoes in the silent space. and the figure on the bed twitches.

"who's there?" a murmur comes out of the hooded skeleton. cross doesn't dare breathe. dust continues, "come on. i know you're there. show your face."

cross doesn't obey. he stays still in the closet as dust walks around the place, his voice gradually getting louder.

"killer, i swear to asgore's beard, if i found you in here... i told you to get the fuck out of this universe!" a little mutter. "... yeah, yeah, you're right, paps. killer doesn't disobey nightmare, does he? must be someone else..."

cross can hear his soul beating frantically. dust walks back into the room, looking around and continuing to mumble to himself.

"might be that prissy error... though he wouldn't be stupid to destroy this universe... but that freak is crazy..."

dust swivels his head to the closet that cross is hiding in, his eyes a blazing red and blue. in a soul-stopping second, cross doesn't care that he doesn't know this place well enough anymore to do a shortcut, but he does anyway, teleporting himself to the middle of the living room. he stumbles upon crashing on the coffee table, and runs out of the front door once he hears the loud demented cackle from dust.

"i knew you're there!" he hears dust shout in delight.

cross runs and runs, uncaring of his injuries. his mind is a jumbled mess and his shallow breath is fogging up his already blurred vision.

he's gonna kill me, his inner voice yells at him. he's gonna kill me for sure. he never forgives me.

a bone attack sprouts from the ground and punctures his leg. with a pained yelp, cross collapses just as a heavy weight appears on top of him, one hand holding on his sternum.

"you fucking rat, i caught you!" he hears dust crow. "you think you can run from m-" the voice suddenly stops. "... cross?"

the grip on his sternum momentarily falters, and cross doesn't hesitate jabbing his smaller daggers right at dust's stunned face. the hooded skeleton falls back, and cross grabbed at dust's travel token, which he always keeps under his shirt, and yanks.

cross kicks at dust, hard, and wobbles on his feet again and runs. as if awaken from a nap, dust shouts, "wait! cross, wait!"

cross doesn't listen. he tries to keep as much distance as possible from dust, haphazardly teleporting through the snowy forest, all the while calibrating the co-ordinations of the token. his pain is at the back of his mind as he forces his body to power through the adrenaline.

"darling, please! don't run away!"

cross punches the co-ordinations he wants to go and pours his magic into the token. he sees it light up and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"cross!" he looks back and sees dust a few feet from him. "cross, i-"

he doesn't hear the next words coming out of dust's mouth. light envelops him as his body fractures into tiny particles traveling through the in-between of the multiverse. the last thing his eyes see before disappearing is the strange emotion on the face of his ex-lover, frozen in an anguished expression with red tears running down his cheeks. it doesn't look like dust at all.

huh. what a silly mirage he encounters.

dividers here by @\cafekitsune

[x-mensirens]

[marvelman901]

Generation X vol 1 16 (1996)

Out Of Sync!

Written by Scott Lobdell and Todd DeZago

Penciled by Tom Grummett

Inked by Al Milgrom

Colors by Steve Buccellato

Lettered by Richard Starkings and Comicraft

Edited by Bob Harras

Cover by Joe Madureira

Synch had been corrupted by Emplate and it was up to Generation X to help him...

[dtdrawz]

wip of a "draw six characters" esque meme

[vanillaxbiscuit]

Warm-up sketch of Xcution and Fullbringers

[distinguishedshoeduckdonut]

BLEACH ARC

[thebiggestwheel]

Bleach Volume 53.5 - "Bad Blood Exhaust"

Jackie was always one of my favorite, underrated characters and seeing how she is one of the few Fullbringers to never get a Volume Cover, I decided to make one myself. Nothing special here - just a simple edit with Manga panel, title and a volume name based on the chapter of the same name.

You can read what the Volume is about here > Fulbring Arc Should Have Been Chad's Arc

And come join us at r/Bleach Manga!

[splicejunction]

one of these days I’m going to be able to read xforce #14 without clapping and cheering and punching the air that issue has everything it has rictors triumphant return and his beautiful beautiful long hair and gay little scarf it has the domino/vanessa reveal its written entirely by fabian nicieza and has beautiful terry shoemaker pencils and of course it has “no honor in running like dogs” “no honor in winding up behind bars either” but we all know about that one thanks to my hit fanfiction extraction point

[qin-qin16]

[Xcutioner, Cross x Dust, puppy love (from Cross), there is nudity but with no suggestive content (is all bones), there is something weird between them…]

"Y'know something? I think that all Dusty needs is a good bath!" Cross couldn't tell if Killer was just humming another one of his lame jokes or if it was an order disguised as casual conversation. "Why don't you help him out? Maybe he needs someone to lick his wounds clean."

Once again, his superior's face was adorned with a blank expression, an open grin and eyes so wide they looked like they might open up through his skull.

Killer didn't need to say anything else. Even though Cross' spine trembled as he swallowed a growl, all he did was follow his superior's advice, even though his shoulders tensed just hearing that half-choked chuckle — he knew Killer was laughing at his blind, obedient steps.

[...]

The anatomy of a skeleton was nothing new to Cross; not only were they all similar to each other, but it was even less surprising when everyone around him matches his bones and scars.

Still, despite what his mind tried to convince him, Cross couldn’t stop his little white dots skittering over Dust’s bones, the eyelights growing brighter with every piece of clothing that hit the floor. The only item neatly folded was his scarf, resting on top of the toilet lid.

Dust’s bones were pale, thin — maybe even malnourished — with dark stains scattered across his body. What were they? Cross didn’t know, and he didn’t have the intimacy (or the courage) to ask. But one thing was certain: the ash hiding in the cavities of his body didn’t come from cigarettes.

His bones gave a slight rattle as the silence between them broke. Along with the sound of crumpled clothes and bare feet slapping against the bathroom floor, Dust let out a low groan — so deep that Cross almost believed Dust’s soul itself had sighed. He was hunched over, hands trembling at the edge of his shorts. For moaning you make sounds, uh? Horror’s voice echoed in his mind, as scornful as the memory.

"Let me do it." The words slipped out before he could stop them, a violet flush spreading across his skull as those two glowing eyes shifted to meet his.

The light in his eyes was stronger than the flickering bathroom bulb, and Cross couldn’t help but swallow hard — the silence between them heavier than before, making Cross’s thoughts grow louder. He shouldn’t have said something so stupid! All he had to do was keep an eye on Dust so he wouldn’t screw up like last time!

Before Cross could get lost again in a whirlwind of doubts, the sound of bones scraping against the floor snapped his attention back. Dust was facing him now, his ribs marked with those same dark, mysterious patches — the darkest ones at the center of his sternum, near where his soul should be.

Cross swallowed hard as his gaze rose once more, locking onto Dust’s serene and unreadable stare. Those eyes, always so aggressive and violent — a sea of turquoise blood — now held an unexpected calm. His face, clear of any shadow, was laid bare for the soldier’s trembling eyes.

And as countless thoughts raced through Cross's mind, voices clashing with each other — some screaming for him to just turn around and go back to his room, others pleading that he had to help—

"Sit." The harsh command cut through all of Cross's thoughts, and without hesitation, he obeyed, just before Dust clicked his tongue in disappointment.

His knees hit the carpet with a soft bump; the tips of his fingers gently brushed the fabric of Dust’ shorts, feeling it damp, sticky, stained with both magical and human blood. Still uncertain, Cross glanced at the other’s face one last time, searching for any sign, any instruction, anything.

But all Cross found was a smile full of disdain, a malicious gleam in Dust’s eyes as his hands stayed far from his own shorts — waiting for Cross to do the work. His fingers slid to Dust’s hips before the tips of his fingers finally began to pull the shorts down slowly, as if afraid that any more forceful movement might make Dust collapse.

With one more gentle pull, his hands dropped along with the garment to the floor. There was no surprise, only paler bones and a thin pelvis, dark stains marking his femurs just like the rest of his skeleton.

Even though there was no flesh in front of him, Cross couldn’t help but lower his gaze, his hands instinctively resting on his knees.

"Well... the bathtub should be good by now, I think…” He murmured after a moment, his bone cheeks flushed with a faint lavender tint.

However, his eyelights dilated as his attention snapped back to Dust, his skull being gently fondled by a bare hand — a heavy, slow touch, sliding down to his neck beneath the shirt’s collar.

"Good boy, you can go now." Cross was already standing before Dust had even finished speaking, almost tripping over the folds of the rug as he rushed through the door — slamming it shut behind him, the loud “bam!” echoing through the suite.

His final memory was Dust's laughter on the other side, muffled and hoarse — taking pleasure in his nervousness and bones tinged with purple.

@what-have-i-unleashed (bc your muse is here) and @ciphmoomew since you want to read it :3c

[nitpickrider]

He came up here to "make a statement" and all he's accomplished is turning into a prop of her speech. X Men Unlimited Infinity 104

[xmencovered]

Uncanny X-Men #295 / Published: October 1992 / Artist: Brandon Peterson

[what-have-i-unleashed]

i'm sending you two ships because i'm evil

xcutioner (dust x cross) 😔

and stardust (dust x dream) 👻

(very evil indeed....... also these are ships with dust i see what you're doing there.....)

xcutioner 😔

hmmmm headcanon regarding apology or regret.... i think there's plenty of regret there, since i usually think of them as exes lol. and exes are, well, complicated and messy. sometimes you still harbor feelings for your old flames and all. i'd like to think cross used to be in nightmare's gang and now he's not anymore, and that desertion must really burn dust. and dust is a petty bitch, so he bundles up at night thinking the myriads of ways he could make cross regret it, regret betraying him. and on cross' side, well, maybe he does regret some of it, especially leaving dust behind. but they have such different philosophies and outlooks on life that they just can't reconcile, so what's the point in dragging this relationship any longer? but emotions are not very logical, aren't they? maybe cross also regrets it because he never got to say goodbye, and he never got to say his apologies to dust....

stardust 👻

ghosts!!! ironically, i think that being with dream helps dust NOT see or hear any of his haunting ghosts... which is a whole can of worms that i'm not sure i can fully examine. this relationship will be wholly unhealthy and unbalanced in that case until they can figure their shit out. but considering dust and his dependency problems, i don't think that's gonna be the case. and dream, i think, will be easily guilt-tripped/pressured into doing something he has a feeling is wrong, so yeah :]

[marvelman901]

Generation X vol 1 16 (1996)

Out Of Sync!

Written by Scott Lobdell and Todd DeZago

Penciled by Tom Grummett

Inked by Al Milgrom

Colors by Steve Buccellato

Lettered by Richard Starkings and Comicraft

Edited by Bob Harras

Cover by Joe Madureira

Synch had been corrupted by Emplate and it was up to Generation X to help him...