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#we are back
talesfromthecrypts · 2 days
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Well... some of you may have figured out we're not home yet, we're only half way there.
Alien (1979) dir. Ridley Scott
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princessbutler1316 · 23 hours
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r3al-b1n4ry · 3 months
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Get your tickets here
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actual-changeling · 5 months
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i am having a time y'all, my brain is chewing on that one fucking sentence like a dog on a bone, so have some hurt/comfort with a nice dose of angst.
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They aren't talking.
It isn't impossible, even with Aziraphale back in heaven and Crowley in his lonely flat in Mayfair—nothing is impossible, not when they're together—and yet that is the problem, isn't it?
They aren't together. They aren't talking. They could.
Crowley thought about it, although there is little else he thinks about these days. Maybe if he had said more, chosen better words, kissed him earlier, run after him, pulled him back—
Maybe then he'd still be here. Maybe then he wouldn't be alone.
It is the emptiness weighing him down, the silence ringing in his ears, and how does he admit to himself that he misses his voice? His soft words, the stretch of his smile, the speeches about Hamlet and book restoration, about newly discovered cafés and ancient dishes long gone.
Aziraphale had lulled him to sleep more times than Crowley could count, a warm blanket wrapping around his curled-up body on the sofa, sprawling and moving, then calmed by his voice.
They aren't talking, and Crowley can't sleep.
He hears him in his dreams whenever he does, but it isn't his voice. It is twisted, warped, wrong, tainted by the acrid burn of bleach on his tongue, the meaning lost in the hollows where emotions should sit.
Days blur into each other, viscous and opaque, molasses trickling through an hourglass.
Sometimes he is scared he will forget how he sounds.
Sometimes he begs and pleads with his own mind to erase every memory of it, every 'I forgive you', every 'we're not friends', every endearment, every single time he said his name.
They aren't talking, and maybe that's for the better.
He said too much again, didn't he? Always talking too much, spilling the wrong secrets held tight to his chest, asking questions no one wants to answer.
So, after weeks of uninterrupted quiet, he simply stops. Crowley's mouth stays shut, his words chewed up and swallowed, and—on unpleasant occasions—thrown up. There are a myriad of things he wants to say, but there is no one left who might be willing to listen, not anymore.
Maybe there had never been someone to begin with.
They aren't talking. The world is about to end.
Aziraphale reaches for his hand, and he lets him, his fingertips cold, his pulse too quick.
"Crowley," he breathes, tender, reverent, a name said simply so it has been spoken, so it is real.
Crowley does not want to talk—not now, not yet, not when he can practically taste blood and ash on his tongue. With a gentle tug, he frees his hand from his grasp and pulls him into a hug instead.
They aren't talking, so he buries his face in the crook of his neck and breathes, holding and being held, and the haunting silence dissipates. Words are superfluous when there is the sound of his heartbeat, his trembling breaths, their clothes rustling as the embrace grows tighter and tighter.
They aren't talking, but they don't need to, not when Aziraphale cups his face and presses their foreheads together, not when Crowley slides his palm around the back of his neck and nudges their lips together just so.
They are talking—every gasp a word, every touch a phrase, every tear an apology and a promise at once.
They are talking, they aren't talking, they still love—violently, desperately—and the world does not end.
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bratfiction · 7 months
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18+ CONTENT — MDNI. warnings -> f!reader, dubcon [sex pollen], light degradation.
gaz trying to fight off a horny, fever inducing drug is always something to consider… the funny thing is that he knew in his heart and soul that this mission wouldn’t fare well. partly because he feels the need to keep an eye on you the entire time. although you insisted that isn’t necessary, you know what you’re doing.
sure enough after one wrong turn and fateful roll of dice, you two are crammed in a small room, panting and huffing under your gear— whatever the pair of you have been inhaled has started coursing through your bodies, making your stomachs tingle with heady lust. you feel like you're stinging, from the inside out. all the while you can see the muscles and veins in gaz's arms flex every few minutes, fists clenching to help him keep his composure as much as possible.
“we can’t…” kyle begins—babbles— head lolling back against the wall behind him. it’s too fuckin’ hard; the ability to catch up with his own, racing thoughts and his achy cock. if his mind wasn’t so hazy he’d be rightfully embarrassed by the visible bulge in his cargos. “you know we can’t do this…”
but before he can blink, you’re crawling to him with other plans. he growls at you; venomous and angry and telling you to stay away. you're already growing dangerously close, parking yourself right in front of him. close enough to have him exhaling deeply, and he's so bloody high he feel like he can smell your arousal.
he’s never seen you make those eyes before. they’re half lidded yet sparkling, full of pure desperation. in your defense you’re nearly wet enough for it to start soaking through your pants. it hurts, how empty you feel… you awkwardly shuffle on your knees as yet another ache settles in your cunt. the cotton of your panties clings to your folds uncomfortably.
“sergeant, please.”
the room becomes even more blurry in a split second.
you squeak as he yanks you into his lap. you swear you can see his pupils become more blown out, there's a dangerous glimmer in the dark pool onlf his irises. the second you feel his body against your own, you moan. like you're in heat. you don’t recognize your own voice. not even one bit. there isn’t much time to think about it— you both can't get your pants off quick enough, and gaz growls while his fingers fuck around with your belt. the moment his hand is in your panties you go limp against his chest, singing out whines into his shoulder as those two gifted, rough fingers circle over your neglected clit.
“nasty, nasty girl.” he spits out, but he’s still helping you tug every layer of fabric down your heated, trembling thighs, helping you ease yourself onto his cock in mere seconds because your messy cunt surely doesn’t need any prep. don’t need to draw this out any longer. “begging your sergeant to fuck you… should be ashamed, darling.”
as if he hasn’t been daydreaming about your pussy being wrapped around his heavy cock for the past hour.
“fuuuck— that’s it, baby.” he coos to you, but you both know you’re not doing any work. it’s all him that’s making you whimper into his strong chest. you’re unable to say or do much. not when you’re more than happy letting gaz guide you every which way he wants, bouncing you up and down on his thick cock until you cream up and make such a mess on him. the sight makes his eyes roll back into his head, completely forgetting that you two are under the influence of god knows what with no idea how long it could last.
gaz fully concedes; you two can have your fun, and no one really has to know for now.
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agentoutofdiaz · 1 month
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Eddie Diaz → 9-1-1 ⤳  7.01 "abandon 'ships"
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samsrosary · 8 months
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taking ur boyf out for a nap when he can't sleep
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sweeneydino · 4 months
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"Just picked up on some stuff from your brother ". Got me think, if my pet suddenly became sentient and could vocalise, that would be a nightmare cause they know my dark secrets cause I speak to them when I'm alone as if they could understand. Spike could've blackmailed poor Raph to some extent so that he could approve of his new name, at least the 'Titan' part.
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He'd tease him now and again, and might have dangled the idea of blackmail around, but he'd never cross the line, especially if it stresses Raph out.
He's a peepaw at heart even if his body isn't lol
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dtupdates-archive · 4 months
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♡—DREAM posted on his priv Twitter!!!!!
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rarilee33 · 4 months
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theriverbeyond · 7 months
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Gideon closes her eyes, and then there is nothing else in the whole universe.
First, Harrow checks her pulse, feeling the carotid artery, the jugular vein, the lymph nodes nestled under the firm line of her jaw. The sureness of those hands belies the anxiety Gideon knows still drives her, the need to feel with her own hands that Gideon is here and safe and alive.
or: WHAT IF after everything is said and done, each night Harrow NEEDS to check Gideon over to make sure she is still okay and alive and breathing. meanwhile, Gideon is being edged within an inch of her life.
it's a ritual
Rating: E (18+) / 4k words
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NO FKN WAAAAAY 🥰😭😜😝❤️
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deathbypufferfish · 8 months
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Things are moving up for the girls! Sibel got the chickens she's always wanted and Marinella landed a snowboarding job. 🐥🏂
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cutechan555 · 4 months
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WE ARE BACK
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jkkyks · 3 months
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Are we actually back back, like even for tomorrow’s match too, omg I can’t wait for ur updates ugh wjdbfjdbsjshhs
Last time I checked nth was stopping me except my uni finals and we are done ✔️.
Your girl is back , can’t wait for tomorrow’s match, been a good fu*kin while & I missed kyky af. LETS GO!
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