#rough touch meme

[starbound-surviivxr]

rough touch

Send ‘rough touch’ for a randomly generated outcome: Open!

2. My muse throws a punch at yours.

The moment she arrived on Neo Shousis, she could tell that she wasn’t going to exactly enjoy her stay - and it wasn’t because of the rain (at least not mostly). In a city as populated as this, with such diversity, there shouldn’t be any surprise to know that members of the Exodus were stationed here - perhaps not to conquer but to occupy and gather intel. Who knew what they’d be up to.

As much as she hated it, her arrival didn’t go unnoticed. However, she was in blissful ignorance as she roamed the city for a few days, selling some items she’d found on her travels for enough money to buy a room to stay in. 

On the third day, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her - following her. In her young curiosity, she had wondered what the nightlife was like and stayed out late. She watched the daytime bustle turn into a slower trickle of activity as most made way to their homes or nightlife bars, leaving the streets somewhat devoid of life, save for her and a few others scattered about.

It still didn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed.

Vynera did what came first to her mind; Trying to not be too obvious about it, she quickens her pace a bit. Meanwhile her ears swivel around a bit to try and hear her surroundings better - listening for footsteps. Then, she takes a sudden turn, moves and then turns again seemingly at random-

Until she came to a dead end.

“Oh, great...” She stares up at the wall. Too high to climb and no other way through that she could see. She’s left cornered in a small alleyway. Maybe she was just being paranoid, or perhaps the person following her decided to leave. Wishful thinking at best, she shifts back toward the entryway of the area and peeks around the corner. 

In the darkness it’s a little difficult to make out, but a flickering light illuminates a figure for a brief moment. Instantly, she ducks back behind the corner. Her hunch was right, it seemed. If she ran now, she’d surely be chased, if she stayed...

It didn’t matter, her ears twitch when she catches the footsteps getting closer. Maybe if she could disorient them long enough...

Without thinking on it too much more, Vynera waits until they’re about to come close before she jumps out of her hiding space, and with a shout, she throws an enclosed fist right at the taller figure.

[ruinaa-archive-blog]

Rough touch 👀👀👀👀

ROUGH TOUCH.

           accepting -- selective / @mutantism / my muse roughly grabs your muse’s arm.

          she’s terrified. feels like a rabbit tearing through the woods trying to outrun the sharp teeth of a fox. it’s not a new feeling, nor will it ever be, but it is shocking in its clarity all the same. her heart thunders against her ribcage and painfully sharp in the hollow of her throat and there’s a gleam of sweat along her hairline and down her neck. beside her, erik is wild-eyed. a muscle jumps in his jaw. she wonders if there will ever be a moment in their lives where they are not terrified and looking for a way out. it doesn’t seem likely. it feels instead like one long, long stretch of animal-bright desperation. the world will never be kind to them. it doesn’t know how to be.

          it isn’t easy for her to push the fear away, but it is easy for her to use it. everything’s humming like a livewire, like a growing storm, and she hopes -- desperately, again, always desperately -- that the others are faring better than she and erik are. she doesn’t know where raven is, or azazel, or luz. she doesn’t know why, instead, it always comes down to the pair of them. (he asks too much of her. needs her for things she isn’t sure she can always give and yet she does each and every time and now will be no exception. he needs a way out, he’s always needed a way out, and there is that familiar thought settling low in her chest: if it has to be one of them, it needs to be her.)

          her hand closes around his arm. tightly, hard enough for her nails to dig into his sleeve. it’s the adrenaline, she’s sure, that gives her the strength to yank him back hard enough for him to stumble into the wall, shoulder knocking against it. she stays in front of him, crowding his space, a shield that isn’t as effective as she wishes she could be. it’s something, though. she is something.

          “you go.” he doesn’t need to be told what to do, and it isn’t her place, and she sees the flicker of surprise in his eyes before it’s quickly swallowed by something darker, angrier. she thinks of her children at home with roman and how erik was there three days ago sitting at her kitchen table and she shoves him again, hard, toward a service door. “get the fuck out of here. go.”

[talentedliarloki]

rough touch

Send ‘rough touch and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

19. Your muse grabs my muse’s wrists. 

      Were they any angrier they might be at each other’s throats in a much more literal sense. As it were, however, they both know bette than to try to other in such a way. To add physicality to this altercation would either have great or terrible consequence and, while Loki was almost always in the business of raising the stakes, something told the trickster that he would be better off simply toeing that fine line and not crossing it.

      He turned to leave with a low, barely-there sneer. What had they even been fighting about? He wasn’t sure anymore, but as they were both beings of pride it was certain the source of the argument was no longer relevant; now all that mattered was who won.

      He had barely turned his back to her when her fingers found his wrist in a likely frustrated motion to keep the god there, to not allow him to win by default. However, the touch engaged the god to react in a knee-jerk way and he turned on her, catching her by the throat forcefully enough that it shook her, but still not so aggressively that it hurt...too much.

      And there they stood, each in the other’s grasp both figuratively and literally and all they could do was smile, together, though secretively in spite of there being nobody around but them. How this would end would surely be up to the fates because the two of them were a lot of things when put together together--combustible, unstable, enviable, magical--but they were certainly never predictable.

[talentedliarloki]

‘rough touch’

Send ‘rough touch’ and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

12. My muse slams yours against a wall hard. 

      His senses were suddenly assaulted with smear of brightness, pinpricks of color like stars exploding before his eyes; he could smell winter, a harsh coldness that was not of Earth; he could feel the bite of snow but also the lush warmth of a realm long since abandoned. In his hand? Was that a blade? Or was he holding onto the end of Gungnir? Was the ground still beneath his feet? Or was he dangling from the Bifröst again?

      No more than another stolen relic...

            A monster parents tell their children about at night...

      Loki’s teeth clenched, fists so tight at his sides that he thought his nails may draw blood from his palms, and when he finally realized these memories were simply that, memories, he stripped his psyche and found the source to be external. Someone was reading his mind... 

      ...and there was only one other being in the room.

      Loki shot across the study and caught Charles by the throat, pressing him backwards violently until the professor’s back found the nearest wall with a hard thud. Loki closed in, teeth bared, livid and looking like an animal close to being caged. The fingers around Xavier’s neck rose to just beneath his jaw, tightening there like a vice and forcing the man’s chin upward, gaze upward, so that vicious green eyes could meet sky blue ones.

      “Never,” Loki breathed, the lethal tone of his whisper promising to make good on the any unspoken threat, “do that again.”

[talentedliarloki]

Rough touch

Send ‘rough touch’ and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

2. My muse throws a punch at yours.

      Loki was deep in thought and even deeper in his studies. He had resorted to many ancient tomes and was several hours into what was becoming a very frustrating investigation. He had hardly noticed the sound of his window opening in the room next door, nor the quiet creak of the door to his study being pulled open.

      The approaching footsteps drew his attention and he stiffened, alert, and when he sensed something close--immediately behind him--he dropped a shoulder a raised a closed fist with every intention to strike with every ounce of spite he had.

[talentedliarloki]

‘rough touch’

Send ‘rough touch’ and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

24. My muse roughly kisses yours. 

      The trickster has sense enough to catch the Russian’s wrists before her blow lands, using her momentum to his advantage to turn them together, rounding a large pillar that had been adjacent to them. In the shadow of the stone column, her widow’s bites shocked alive in threat, a mild danger compared to what strobing weapon showed in the trickster’s eyes.

      He fixed his fingers tightly around her wrists, the electric reservoirs leading to the tasers faintly trilling against his fingertips, and with his body unyieldingly holding her in place, he pauses, forcing the sudden silence surrounding them to be acknowledged.

      A heartbeat later and the surrounding air is hot from a fireball blast set off several yards away and the god can see the inferno reflecting in the Black Widow’s eyes. There’s something else moving in them but Loki doesn’t wait to get a better look. She’s itching for a fight, breath heaving beneath her bosom, brushing into the god with every inhalation, and Loki was spoiling as well, but for a different sort of brawl.

      He caught her lips between her next breath and kissed her deeply, tightening his hold on her wrists in an effort to leave bruises. And if he used his teeth on her lip and drew blood, well, it was only fair because she’d caught him with a left-hook earlier and now they could call it even.