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jiyascepter · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ➳ natasha romanoff aka black widow | icons

do not repost

reblog if you save & pls give credits

↪ comic icons ↪ all icons

#queued as im away #t: comic icons #black widow #natasha romanoff #black widow comics #comic icons #marvel comics #marvel #avengers #comics #marvel comic icons #icons #comic pfps #black widow pfps #black widow icons #black widow comic #j: pfps

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

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kinktober: dacryphilia

words: 300

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana

“did you just cum without permission?” rafe asks, looking up at you from his spot in between your legs.

“i’m-” you shake your head, knowing you’re unable to deny it as rafe tasted you on his tongue when you let go. “i’m so sorry.”

“baby.” rafe tsks, looking up at you with disapproval.

“i’m so sorry rafe.” you let out a sob, tears falling down your face, unable to hold them back from slipping down your cheeks.

rafe looks up at you in awe, cock absolutely pulsing at seeing you crying. rafe stands up suddenly, bending forward and laying his body over yours, pressing his lips to your cheeks.

“god, you crying shouldn’t be so hot.” rafe mumbles, but you don’t hear most of his words as his cock presses against your entrance, making a few more tears shed as you shake in pleasure.

“i’m sorry rafe, i’m sorry.” you sniff. “i shouldn’t have cum without your permission.” “hey, hey.” rafe says, pushing your hair out of your face as he glides his cock up and down over your pussy, spreading your juices over his length. “it’s okay honey.” rafe feels guilty, not wanting you to be upset and crying but at the same time being immensely turned on.

“i’m gonna fuck you now, do you want that, hm?” he asks, and you nod quickly, large eyes looking up at him as he pushes inside of you.

“feels so good, rafey.” you whine loudly, chest heaving up and down as you are unable to hold back your loud cries, pleasure overwhelming you.

“i know it does, baby.” rafe bends down, kissing along your cheek and jaw. rafe sucks your skin in between his teeth, leaving a purple bruise in his wake as he continues giving you hickeys. “go ahead and cry harder for me, hm.”

“rafe, i-” you try to speak, but his cock presses deeper inside of you, his thumb coming to rub at your clit. you cry out as rafe requested, tears flowing steadily now.

“shouldn’t be so hot.” rafe whispers again, moving faster.

#kinktober #next two posts will be queued bc im going away for the weekend lol #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you

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ind1c0lite · 11 months

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Pollo 👍 poses for today <3

[ID: redraw of Apollo Justice's sprites. He is a brown haired attorney with two pieces of hair that stick up. He wears a white button down, cyan tie, and a red vest and slacks. He has a gold bracelet on his left arm.

In the top left corner is Apollo bashfully flattening his hair. His shoulders come close to his ears and he has a hand in his vest pocket.

In the top right corner Apollo smiles despite the bandage covering his eye and the bandages on his arms. He stands confidently, arms crossed and with Clay's blue jacket on his shoulders.

In the bottom left drawing, Apollo looks dejected, pulling the blue jacket around him. He looks off to the side, hair spikes drooping.

In the center is Apollo in his usual court outfit. He gives a bright closed-eyed grin. His white shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing burn scars.

The bottom right Apollo is pointing a finger to his forehead as he thinks. He looks focused and determined and has several yellow question marks near his head. End ID

#ace attorney #aa4 #aa5 #apollo justice #indys art #this is queued Im gonna be away from my drawing tablet for the weekend GHFJGKHHJGK #I love his sprites sm hes so silly!!!#pollo man pollo man

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topaziraphale · 7 months

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"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,

The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"

Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.

What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.

#derpy speaks #good omens #good omens 2 #no i dont think crowley is gonna ever hate aziraphale for what happened but he's allowed to be angry #he's allowed to be done with it all. he's allowed to be exhausted. just look at his face when he drives away.#meh. idk. but i dont know how i'll feel if crowley just INSTANTLY accepts aziraphale back in a situation involving #idk - ''hey help me stop the new apocalypse''#at least. without like. SOME pushback? it can even be something small like ''are you SURE you want ME to help you? do you really need me?''#doesnt have to be a straight refusal but i'd like SOME kind of action to show that crowley is putting his foot down for once #he deserves that self respect #do NOT reply saying that im insinuating that aziraphale is actively malicious or doing it on purpose.#everything he has done up until now is his own complicated response to all the trauma and guilt he's been through #but despite that crowley is STILL allowed to be upset... it's messy. i can write a whole paper about how this whole thing #is just unfortunate on both ends. again. we didnt get queerbaited we got communication baited 😭#but help me out here. am i just too fandom-brained to have these expectations from the story?#is there something obvious im missing that is making me sound like a complete asshole here? do i need to get my head out of the gutter?#someone please explain it to me if so because whatever it is‚ i can't find it #not queued

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ghouljams · 10 months

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I was wondering, do Love and Liebling ever see what’s hiding under the obscuras? Do they ever know the true face of the monsters beneath the masks? Liebling got a little peek when fae!König first arrived. I’m so curious what ghost and König are really hiding 👀

I hope you have a wonderful vacation in Spain, and that you get to rest and relax while you’re there!

Liebling sees through Ghost's obscura every time he enters the shop and it scares the shit out of her every time. That said she is only seeing his mask, not his real face. I don't think she would ever get to see his real face tbh, but it's not for her to see so *shrug*. König on the other hand very much does show her his face. He's very nervous about it but she asks and he can't say no to her. (Un)Surprisingly she likes his true face a lot, mostly because it's him but König still wears his hood around her. Mostly for his own comfort.

Ghost drops his obscura for Love after a lot of coaxing, and when she complains that she meant his face not a mask he hesitantly shows her that as well. He is painfully human under his mask, desperately clinging to the fae wild but... it's there plain to see, what once was and what their children will look like. Love adores his true face, and he gets used to dropping his mask and obscura at the door when he gets home. I think the human face he shows normally is pretty close to his true face, just less. I don't know how to describe it, but it's not as much Simon as his true face is. Like with Soap I think he looks too alive, just past human, like the light on an angler fish he's enticing. But he's also scarred under the mask, and that's what I think he's hiding more than his humanity.

#thank you for the well wishes!!!!#ghoul speaks #im so fucking delayed at the airport #typing away at my big queued posts and thinking about the fae boys #this is a lot about them #a lot about Ghost #like i said in a previous post i think Ghost used to be human and was stolen by the fae #turned into a hunter for the wild court without a say in the matter #its why he lives on the fringes of fae society now #why hes so feared and why he owes Price a life debt #fae au #i could write essays on Fae Ghost

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weitooinlovewiththeuntamed · 1 year

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Nie Huaisang is the character ever because he worked for more than a decade on a masterplan, SUCCEEDED and never once did he succumb to the urge to take credit or make a speech

#he got away with it because he is light years ahead #so sexy to not even do an evil genius reveal omg #im in love with him #nie huaisang #mdzs #mo dao su zhi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #aiden originals #am i queuing this right

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jiyascepter · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ➳ diamond | rainbow dividers

Do not repost

Reblog if you save & give credits

#rainbow dividers #queued as im away #diamond dividers #dividers #post dividers #dividers for tumblr #tumblr dividers #j: div

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avacynthia · 2 months

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(ooc. I don't care, I don't care. Sleepy Raikou is singlehandedly keeping all of my Johto crops watered at once 🥺🥺🥺)

#ooc #(im away when this will post but)#(look at this eepy legend cmon.......)#queued.

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thetomorrowshow · 1 year

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blood on your hands

empires superpowers au masterlist (note: the masterlist is not currently being updated)

ough angst. takes place about two weeks after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: violence, mild gore, abuse, flashbacks, vomiting, death (of an oc)

“Oh, little bird,” Xornoth coos, and Jimmy stares blankly at their feet.

He’d messed up. They had given him a command—they’d wanted him to hurt the bystanders to send them away—and he hadn’t obeyed, leaving Pearl to escape.

He doesn’t know what the punishment will be. He hopes he has the strength today to accept it.

The doors to the meeting room burst open—two guards dragging a handcuffed man between them enter, hold him in a standing position, even as the man sways dangerously, blood dripping down the side of his head. Xornoth stands, pulling Jimmy up with them.

The man is middle-aged, balding, his button-up white shirt stained with his own blood. His eyes blink rapidly, his teeth chatter and lips tremble as if cold. Or maybe it’s a symptom of the severe stress he’s probably under.

“What’s your name?” Xornoth asks the man, who noticeably swallows back his anxiety before answering.

“K-Keith, I—sir.”

“Do you have a family, Keith?”

Keith’s face pales. “You—you leave them alone, they never did anything—”

Xornoth smiles, a repulsive sight. “You’re a construction worker, is that right? You have a pet dog. Your daughter has just developed powers of her own and you mean to celebrate this weekend.”

Dumbfounded, Keith nods. Quick as anything, Xornoth pulls Jimmy right up to them by the chin, forces him to look into Keith’s eyes. Jimmy sees terror, confusion—though maybe it’s just a reflection of himself.

“See, pet? Keith here is a person with a life, one that he loves and wishes to return to. He has a family, a favorite food, and people who love him.”

Jimmy stares blankly at his master, some sort of emotion stirring beneath the surface. He doesn’t know what he feels. But he has a sinking suspicion that he knows where this is going.

He’s right. With a flick of their wrist, there’s a tentacle worming its way out of the ground, crawling up Keith, up his throat, up his chin and over his lips to his nostril, where it squiggles inside. Keith shouts, even as another tentacle rises up and slowly squeezes around his throat.

Jimmy gags instinctively, tries to turn away—he doesn’t want to see this—but Xornoth’s hand on his collar is enough to keep him in place.

Keith is begging, begging even as blood drips from his nose and mouth, even as he chokes on nothing, begging for anyone to help, and it’s horrible and suddenly Jimmy is screaming as well, begging for his master to spare a man who’s done nothing wrong—

Keith’s body slumps as the first tentacle exits through his mouth, bloodshot eyes rolling back into his head. Jimmy gags again, nearly vomits but for the emptiness of his stomach.

Xornoth pulls Jimmy by his hair, their mouth pressed against his ear, and their breath is foul when they speak.

“Keith’s blood is on your hands, pet. He died because of your disobedience. Obey me next time, and we won’t have to have a repeat incident.”

Then they throw him to the ground, into a pool of Keith’s blood. He falls hard, his bad hip popping out on impact. The next couple of minutes are blurry with pain as Jimmy gathers what little strength he has and rolls, popping it back into place.

Once he’s recovered enough to take in his surroundings, he finds that his master is gone. The guards are gone. The door to the room is shut.

It’s just him and the body. The body of a man with a family, loved ones, a career, a belief system. . . .

Who will tell his spouse that their husband is missing? Who will tell his daughter that her dad is never coming home? Will they know? Will there be a body to find? Or is Jimmy doomed to be the only one to know of Keith’s fate, never to make it out of here and find his family?

All because he’d been a bad pet. He’s a bad pet. It’s all his fault, it’s always his fault, this is just another person’s blood that he’s responsible for and there’s so much, there’s always so much pain. . . .

He gathers enough courage to approach the body after an hour, crawling toward it with cuffed hands to gently close Keith’s eyes. Then he backs away quickly, because even though it’s just a body he still wants to vomit just being in the same room with a dead person, especially one so brutally killed.

He makes his way to the opposite corner of the room, where he can only see Keith’s lower half between the table and chair legs, curls up in the most comfortable position possible with his screaming hip, and sobs drily into his hands. He’s shaking badly enough that he could break apart at any second, and there’s someone dead in front of him and he killed them, it’s his fault they’re dead. . . .

He stays there, waiting, praying that someone will come get him and take him to his cell, where he can wash his hands of this as best he can, where he can tuck the image of Keith’s head bursting from the inside that’s burned into his retinas deep in the recesses of his mind, never to be seen again.

No one comes.

They leave Jimmy alone with the corpse for two straight days.

Jimmy jolts up in bed, running for the bathroom before he even knows where he is. He barely makes it in time, vomiting his guts up practically before he can lift the toilet seat.

He wipes his mouth when he’s done, blows his nose to dislodge any chunks, flushes the toilet. His stomach is rolling, throat burning, and he can still hear Keith screaming like it’s still happening.

He’s too tired to get back up, too shaky to even consider standing. So instead he presses his head against the cool porcelain of the bathtub (it feels so nice against his flushed cheek, he’s so tired and everything is so fresh and raw) and falls asleep.

“Hey, can you wake up for me? It’s Lizzie, I’m here. . . . I’m here, Jimmy, can you wake up?”

Jimmy blinks awake, looks up at the blue-haired blob leaning over him. He blinks a couple more times, and that blob reveals itself to be his sister.

"Hey," he croaks, and her face twists in concern.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He sits up, groans at the stiffness in his limbs from such an awkward sleeping position. For a moment, he’s not sure where he is. Then he remembers the previous night, the flashback-nightmare, running to the toilet. He groans again.

“Bad night,” he manages, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth. Lizzie takes notice and helps him up, where he can lean against the sink and brush his teeth.

He doesn’t want to think about the flashback. He doesn’t want to think about it at all, but every time he blinks he sees it happening. He sees blood, he sees bulging eyes, he sees. . . .

He gags, pulling his toothbrush away from his mouth as he leans over the sink. He killed a man. He killed him.

Lizzie makes some noise of disgust as he spits out a bit of bile, nothing else in his stomach to throw up. He cringes automatically, one hand darting up to cover the scar on the back of his neck.

“How about you go lie down, yeah?” she suggests, stepping out of the way of the door. She surveys the room with a slight wrinkle of her nose. “I’ll clean up in here. Just go lie on the couch, grab a plastic bag or a bowl or something.”

Jimmy follows her directions robotically, taking a moment to rinse out his mouth before shuffling off to the living room, stopping to get a plastic bag from the bag of bags. He’s been laying on the couch for a full minute before he realizes he still has his toothbrush clenched in his fist. He keeps hold of it, not sure where to place it.

A few moments later, Lizzie reappears, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. She’s still in pajamas, Jimmy notices, her short hair tangled and eyelids heavy with sleep. She must’ve just woken up to find him on the bathroom floor.

Just lying there. Like he was dead. Like Keith. Like all the others.

There’s a lump in his throat and a sour taste in his mouth and his eyes itch really badly, but he can’t cry. He can’t cry when he survived, he made it out intact, while so many others are dead by his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, swallowing several times. “I—I don’t know—”

“It’s all right, you’re not feeling well,” Lizzie cuts in, running a hand down the side of her face. “I can call in to work, say I’m sick. Or I can call Scott or Joel to come take care of you while I work, but if you’ve got a bug I’ve probably got it as well. . . .”

“I’m not sick,” says Jimmy. When Lizzie fixes him with a disbelieving look, he adds, “Really. I just—I just had a bad dream. A . . . a flashback.”

The look turns to one of sympathy, and Lizzie moves as if to rub his arm, but holds herself back. “Do—do you want to talk about?” she asks awkwardly.

He shakes his head. There’s nothing they can do. Lizzie will just tell him that it isn’t his fault, that maybe he should talk about it in therapy, et cetera. More coping, no doing. No real owning up for his actions.

At least, that’s what Scott would do. Lizzie’s quite a bit more pragmatic than Scott.

“Well, maybe,” he says slowly.

She holds back a sigh, he notices. One of relief or frustration, he can’t tell. But he forges onward anyway, because this is not just something he can drop.

He decides to just cut to the chase. “I killed people,” he says. Blunt, perhaps, but Lizzie doesn’t flinch.

“I know,” she says drily. “Believe me.”

She’s blunt too, of course. Jimmy swallows, then forces himself to go on.

“Four by my own hand and choice—at least, recently. Because they told me to.” He takes in a shuddering breath. He can do this. “Five others because of me—I think. I’m not sure. I don’t know. Maybe more. They—they killed people, to make me behave sometimes, and it’s my fault still, their blood is still on my hands because I knew what the punishments were like and I still—I still fought back. And . . . my actions had consequences. And too often, innocent people suffered them.”

Jimmy stops, overcome. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, breathes in and out. He needs to confess this. There’s been guilt gnawing at his stomach for so long, long enough that he didn’t even realize it was there. He deserves punishment, he killed so many people, and hurt so many others. . . .

“I didn’t know them,” he manages. “I didn’t even know them. But because—because I misbehaved, they got pulled in and I had to watch them die. I was—Lizzie, it was my fault they died, they didn’t deserve it and—I don’t—”

He cuts off, tears choking his throat. He can’t look at Lizzie. He can’t bear to see the disappointment, the disgust, on her face.

Closing his eyes doesn’t help. Behind his eyelids all he can see is blood dripping from everywhere, places he never thought possible, eyes and ears and nostrils and cheeks—

He grabs the bag, just in case. He doesn’t think he’s going to vomit again, but it’s always a possibility.

It wasn’t just Keith, of course. There were others. Four others before Keith, four lessons ignored until the fifth finally stuck. He doesn’t know their names, their occupations, their home lives. He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse.

“Jimmy,” says Lizzie eventually. “I doubt that you’ll believe me right now, but anything that Xornoth did is not your responsibility.”

But it is. Those people would still be alive if Jimmy had just behaved. He could’ve been good, he could’ve been good and everyone would have been safe, but he acted out and it hurt him and others time and time again.

“They had their agency,” Lizzie continues. “They made the choice to do that, after subjecting you to inhumane conditions. That isn’t on you. You were just trying to survive.”

Maybe, somewhere deep within his mind, that comes as a relief. For some part of him, that’s exactly what he needed to hear.

It still isn’t enough.

“If that’s true, why does it feel wrong?” Jimmy asks, sniffling. “I feel—I feel like I ought to be punished, still. I knew there would be consequences, and I still chose to—I still—”

“‘Chose’ is not a word that applies, I think,” Lizzie says. “And really, that’s a very common abuse tactic. Imagine—say, imagine a man who gets angry at his wife—for, er, not cooking dinner right—and he throws a vase at her. Then he says that it was her fault the vase is broken since she made him angry. Is that an okay thing to happen?”

“No,” Jimmy admits after a moment. “But—it’s different.”

Lizzie sighs. “Scott is so much better at this,” she mutters. “I really don’t see the difference. Why would you—er, ‘misbehave’, as you said?”

Flashes of all the times he wilfully disobeyed a command zip through his mind. Every time, he did it—

“To stop someone from getting hurt,” he says, looking up. Lizzie’s watching him, chin propped on her hands. “I thought—I thought I could handle getting hurt, if someone innocent was all right. But then—it wasn’t always me. Who got hurt.”

“Don’t you see? You had good intentions, Jimmy. You just wanted to help people. Xornoth had no right to treat you so horribly, and when you tried to save others from getting hurt, they would turn your good heart on you.”

She’s right. If he wasn’t so tired, it would be easier to see. The guilt doesn’t go away, but the knot in his chest loosens a little.

“That’s exactly what Scott would say,” he mumbles. “I thought you’d be on my side. Instead I got therapized.”

Lizzie snickers. “It’s unfair how good Scott is at that. I would have called him, but it’s like, three in the morning. Did I at least help?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “Sorry. It was—” he shudders, seeing it all over again— “It was a really bad nightmare.”

“Well, if that’s solved, I’ll head back to bed,” says Lizzie, getting ready to stand. “How are you feeling, though?”

Guilty. Like a monster. Like he needs to be punished.

Something on his face must betray that, because Lizzie pauses, offers him a sympathetic smile.

“Just because it isn’t my fault—I guess—that—that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve help,” he says. “Is there something I can do? For their families?”

“Maybe,” Lizzie says. She nods a little bit, her expression turning thoughtful. “I’ll call your boyfriend, see if he has any contacts that can figure that out.”

Jimmy groans. “Just—he has a name, don’t—”

“We’ll see what your boyfriend says!”

It takes time, but eventually a charity is set up for the families of Xornoth’s victims. However, after only two weeks, Lizzie silently hands Jimmy a list of ten names. At the top is Keith Rowland. He doesn’t know how she got the names. He doesn’t ask.

Jimmy makes his reparations in the best way he can think to. He leaves envelopes of cash with apology cards in their mailboxes, rings the doorbell, then runs. He stalks the families online, makes sure that they have everything they need at the moment, are comfortable and all set to continue their lives.

He doesn’t stop feeling guilty, exactly. There are moments when his heart clenches, when all he can see is gruesome death that he knows is his fault.

But there’s nothing else he can do. For the most part, he’s content. And every day, it gets a little bit easier to separate himself from the evil that Xornoth forced upon him.