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jolenejolinb · 2 days
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when-sanpape-arts · 3 days
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Postmortem Chapter 7
fellas is it gay to nurse another man back to health
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firenati0n · 20 hours
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wip wednesday <3 :)
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hello friends :) thank you to everyone for the tags over the last few weeks (i will tag back under the cut). <3 appreciate the shouts!
here is a snip from the doc i have affectionately named nolan!alex / murphy!henry fuck around and find out, the actor au...collaborators to friends to lovers to exes to enemies to grudging partners to friends to lovers YEEHAW! pls forgive any editing errors <3
Alex's eyes are hot as he blinks back tears, Henry's profile blurring and distorting. “Tu me manques, remember? You kept saying that and I kept going ‘Oh, he's so hot when he's speaking French’ like the idiot I am. But I looked it up and it's not just ‘I miss you’, is it? It’s fucking ‘you are absent from me’, like a piece of me belongs to you, a part of you that’s mine. Why would you—why the fuck would you whisper this to me so earnestly every time you think I can’t hear you, and then turn around and pull this shit? Are you embarrassed by us, by me? Is the piece of me you have not enough?” Henry stands in front of him, eyes a little distant and haunted, fingers flexing at his sides. His silence cuts Alex to the fucking core, lances through him and gets him square in his traitorous little heart. A fickle thing, love is. Will he ever be enough for someone? Alex steels himself to say the words he’s been holding back, the words that have been pushing up behind his teeth for months, making his gums ache and jaw tingle.  “I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, Henry. I deserve better. And I think you do, too. You just won’t allow yourself to see that, and it’s killing me.”
xoxo roop
+ no pressure tags under the cut and open tag as usual <3
@ninzied @priincebutt @suseagull04 @rmd-writes @leaves-of-laurelin
@eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @magicandarchery @getmehighonmagic @violetbaudelaire-quagmire
@cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @dumbpeachjuice
@anchoredarchangel @sparklepocalypse @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew
@tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @onward--upward
@celeritas2997 @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @littlemisskittentoes
@14carrotghoul @cultofsappho @alasse9 @nontoxic-writes @kiwiana-writes
@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @ships-to-sail @indestructibleheart @mikibwrites
@porcelainmortal @captainjunglegym @itsmaybitheway @tailsbeth-writes @welcometololaland
@adreamareads @duchessdepolignaca03 @sophie1973 @onthewaytosomewhere @theprinceandagcd
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the-badger-mole · 3 days
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I was scrolling through my fics, and was suddenly struck by how often fairytales have inspired my stories. I decided to put them in a collection so all of you can see one of the repeating patterns in my stories.
Read the fics here
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sigmoon · 1 day
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1. 𝐿𝓊𝓍 𝐿𝒾𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓈 - A 'Lupus in Fabula' Oneshot
"Light and Liberty."
[23 years before the current events] When he's ten years old, Nikolai's ideology slowly begins to take shape and influence the way he views the world.
Starring: Nikolai Gogol
Words: 519
Author's note: This is the first of several oneshots for this AU, each one of them dealing with Nikolai's past instead of the present events.
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It was going to rain soon. 
The sun had long disappeared behind the dark wall of clouds inching closer, and the air was heavy and humid. 
Nikolai wiped away the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, only for new ones to seep through his pores.
His back was damp where he leaned against the tree behind him, but a soft breeze offered temporary relief from the suffocating heat, and Nikolai closed his eyes and imagined soaring high and freely along with the swallows flying in circles above him.
One of Nikolai’s hands found his braid, fidgeting with it. 
By now, the piece of hair had gotten matted, and he ought to cut it off entirely, as any attempt to untangle it was probably going to be futile. 
But he wanted to cherish it for the time being. His sister had braided it for him a while ago, similar to her own hairstyle, so they could match, and for everyone to know that they were two of a kind.
Nevertheless, their symbolized bond couldn’t withstand the influence that their parents had had on her. 
She used to be the one spending hours lying on her back in the unmowed grass of the backyard, watching the birds and listening to their songs, sharing her enthusiasm with her little brother. 
But not long ago, her priorities had taken a sharp turn, and Nikolai was left alone behind the imposing tree, day by day watching the shape of his sister’s silhouette gradually fade away where it had left behind an imprint in the tall grass.
Instead of imagining how it must feel to be one with the wind, to not be bound by gravity, she'd begun to obediently focus on what, according to their parents, really mattered in life.
As if overnight, her schedule was packed with more extracurriculars than Nikolai could keep track of, and the sole evidence that she was at home, was a ‘do not disturb’ sign on her door, which she only removed at night, when she finally took a break from studying. 
Nikolai failed to comprehend how she was able to smile and humbly accept the praise she was showered with whenever her hard work had paid off again, like a dog that successfully performed the tricks he’d learned, eager to receive a treat from its master, only to do it all over again.
He had a feeling that, if he didn’t make sure to put up a lot of resistance, they were going to want to condition him just like his sister, and he’d end up being a well-trained pet like her, slowly forgetting what filled his life with meaning and adapting their ideas of a fulfilled life. One that his family could be proud of. 
A ‘take a picture of it, frame it, and put it on the mantel’ kind of life.
Nikolai could feel his chest tighten as he spiraled deep into these thoughts. His skin felt sticky, and the humid air made it hard to breathe.
He looked up to the swallows above him, feeling as though their frantic chirping was meant to be a message just for him. 
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summary:
Sirius gets accused of vandalism
He doesn’t really care, because:
1. He really needs a smoke
2. The officer interrogating him is hot
3. Said officer has a cigarette
wolfstar one shot ⭐️
(sirius is a criminal lol (kind of))
link: Smoke Signals
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oceansssblue · 3 days
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*barges into your askbox, breaking down the door*
may i request a jedi fem!reader x tech where they are on a mission together after some time, and they get separated from the rest of the group. she fights very well against some opponents but ends up getting just a bit bloody and hurt, mostly due to an aggressive fighting style, that of a warrior. tech notices all the new scars n stuff on her face and forearms and is worried. she insists she's fine and tries to brush it off, even though she doesnt like them and makes her less of a jedi and more of a warrior. he comforts her telling her things like your a great general and you don't have to follow the code perfectly to still be a good jedi. so basically first kiss fluff and comfort, a bit of angst.
sorry it was so long! have a great day/night
I love Tech soo muchhhh 🥹 This was a cute idea, so here it is! Hope you like it.
Next request will feature Commander Mayday I think!
Stay tunned,
Xx,
Sky.
"JEDI WARRIOR"
TBB REQUESTS —TECH/F READER
WARNINGS: Blood, scars. A sprinkle of angst but mostly fluff and comfort 📩💔💖
"I'll distract them!" your voice shouts loud and clear through the batch's coms frequency.
Tech frowns, dodging a shot and quickly neutralising the droid responsible for it.
"General..." he begins, clearly not happy with the offer, but you cut him of quickly.
"That's an order" you almost bark back to him.
You don't mean to be mean or harsh. But you're in the middle of a battle, there's lifes on danger, and though you know Tech's worried about you, you can't let that distract you. You need to distract your enemies so the Batch can get to their base; so they can get the information needed. Information that will save hundreds of lifes and will be valuable to the Republic. You know Tech will probably have a list of the things that could go wrong with you getting separated from them in his mind; but it's your choice, ultimately. If you die, so be it. You'd do it honorably.
Tech clenches his jaw.
"Yes, General".
You run away, jumping over dozens of droids and never slowing down, your orange lightsaber dancing through their lines, a blur of light in the almost darkness of the arriving night. While you atract the majority of their troops and pull them far away, the Batch advances. You hope you can hold them off til they get what you need.
Time passes, and your enemies seem to close around you. Droids are not the main problem; the natives of Garsa are, riding big felines with sharp teeth that painfully closes around your arms and legs more than once. One of the predators catches your ankle and pulls, dragging you through the dirt; and you can't help the furious, painful scream that leaves your mouth, twisting around quickly and stabbing your lightsaber through his own open mouth. The animal screeches and dies.
When you hear Hunter's voice through your coms again, half an hour later, you're on the verge of falling unconscious. You can barely fight much longer; energy drained even with your extensive Jedi training. You feel blood all over you, mixing with the dirt of the ground you've been rolling in. It tingles painfully, all the open wounds on your body; specially the deep scratches on your face, that tugs with every facial expression and movement.
You must be quite the sight, because when the Batch comes near you, Tech suddenly halts upon seeing you. A second later, they're all standing around you, helping you to get rid of the last enemies and giving you cover while you start your hurried way back to the Marauder.
Once you're safely flying away on the ship, you collapse down onto the floor. Wrecker grabs you before you can really slam down onto it; lowering you gently. Your mind feels dizzy with exhaustion; and you've almost fallen asleep in place when Tech kneels besides you, route already established and on automatic pilot.
His fingers carefully brush your hair away; chocolate brown eyes studying you worriedly.
"Let's get you cleaned up and fixed, General" he whispers, putting your arm over his shoulders and tugging you up to a stand with him.
You grunt in pain and lean most of your weight against him.
"Don't know if I can stay up and conscious through a shower" you mumble tiredly.
Tech starts a slow, careful walk towards the bathroom. The rest of the Batch scatters throughout the ship, tending to their own wounds and exhaustion.
"That is okay" Tech answers, unbothered. "You could stay with your underware on and I could assist you with that, if you would be comfortable with such situation".
You glance at him and inevitably smile. His cheeks are slightly flushed, though he's trying to keep his voice and posture as professional as possible. You know it's a weird situation, and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.
Maybe you would be with Hunter or Wrecker or Cross. But you've always felt safe and at ease with Tech specially; and it would be just one soldier helping another. Of sorts.
" 'M okay with that" you give him your permission, and Tech nods quietly.
Once in the bathroom, you hold yourself with a hand against the wall and slowly pull your clothes of. Tech intently stares down at the floor; only risking a quick glance upwards when you let out a small whimper of pain. Your pant's are abandoned on the floor; but your bloody shirt is stuck to a wound on your stomach, and just touching the material of the shirt makes your wound burn.
"Let me" Tech asks, gently, and you push your hands over your head, staying as still as possible while he carefully separates the shirt from your skin and pulls it off of your body.
You sigh in relief and thank him before wobbling into the shower. Tech's hand stabilises you; and he makes sure to catch you whenever you stumble a bit too much for his comfort. You get rid of the dirt and blood, being specially carefull with your injuries; and then gently dry your skin with a towel.
Tech takes a step back –dropplets of water running down his still in place armour–, eyes glancing down at the floor again. You smile with his consideration of your privacy; though the smile dissapears from your face when you take a look at the small mirror in front of you.
The wounds are deep, and they will scar. One crosses over your nose, another cuts vertically through your left eyebrow, and two other big ones slashes your right cheek. Smaller ones go over your lip, though you think those will heal nicely. You open your towel and glance down, analysing. There's more across your body. You...
"Don't look like a jedi" you unconsciously mumble out loud. "More like a warrior".
Tech's eyes meet yours through the reflection of the mirror. He frowns, and you fake a smile while you pull yourself out of your thoughts. You hide under the towel.
"I'm fine".
It's obviously a lie; and Tech has always been intelligent.
His hands hesitantly land on your shoulders; thumbs caressing slowly.
"You're a great general" he tells you, gentle. "This was a suicide mission, and yet we all made it out fairly well, considering the circumstances. You don't have to follow the code perfectly to be a good Jedi. Jedi's use the Force to help people, to bring peace to the galaxy. Isn't that what you do everyday?"
His words make your heart ache. Your eyes fill with tears.
Yeah, you do. Maybe he's right. Maybe you don't have to follow the code literally step by step. Maybe what you're doing is enough. You're only human, after all.
Maybe...
You turn towards Tech. He's tall, and handsome, and polite and gentle, intelligent and caring. You've always liked him. Always felt something towards him, even if you've tried to burry it inside your soul.
Maybe... Your hands tremble as they make their way up to his face; carefully cupping his cheeks. Tech blushes, but he doesn't glance or move away. He's still, breathing heavier, eyes fixed on yours, waiting expectantly. His hands slowly travel down your back to your hips; his back curves down to close the distance between your lips.
You cling to his shoulders, stand on your tiptoes, and kiss him. Your eyes close with a relieved sigh, and you can feel him first tensing, then relaxing, into the kiss too. His lips are soft and his movements meassured and gentle; kissing you like you're the most important thing in the galaxy. You feel warm and safe. Excited and in peace at the same time.
When you separate in order to breathe, he caresses your cheek in wonder and presses his forehead against yours with a happy sigh.
Yeah. Maybe it is okay.
THE END.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Yoooo I'm on fire everybody! Writing nonestop requests for yall!
Still got a few to go (another Tech, Mayday, Wolffe, Hunter, some non romantic ones...). Be patient, I will get there.
Think this one turned out well.
Stay tunned!
Sky.
Back to my general masterlist here:
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ghostiezone · 12 hours
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"do you know how much i love you? do you know how important you are? not just to the undersea, to the elders, to the world, but to your sister? even if we're miles apart (again) i hope you can trust me to protect you. I would take on the entire world if it meant keeping you safe. even at the cost of everything. im sorry none of the adults in our life took proper care of you, i hope i was a somewhat adequate substitute. im sorry they were able to keep me from you, i should have fought harder. i won't make that mistake twice." >> Edyn Tidestrider writes a letter.
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carooosa · 14 hours
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Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness
Part 1: Exposure (rewrite)
Word count: 1.5k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ascended Astarion x AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, ear play, violence against an NPC AO3 link: Exposure
Summary: Astarion can exert his control/power as he maintains composure while fucking you, and while he may not be as strict with his council when doing so, the harshness behind his actions is still there. But when you torture him by making him moan in front of everyone who is beneath him? Not only will it show him weak, but it’ll show his weakness.
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It’s another boring day as a consort while you sit on your lover’s bare lap, slowly rolling your hips into him. Ever since the ascension, Astarion has refused to let you out of his sight for too long, always wanting to have some part of him touching you. It upset you, at first, having to sit in on all of the dreadful conferences and dull discussions. But as always, Astarion made sure that it was worth your time.
He’s droning on about some inaccuracies in recent reports he’s received and his fingers dig into your hips as the proprietor of the counting-house stumbles out an excuse. You can’t help but giggle when you picture the proprietor trembling as he tries to talk his way out of this mess. You remember his name being quite the joke as well, something like Sparkleboard or Glimmerbrook.
“Rakath Glitterbeard,” Astarion barks at the dwarf before berating him for his inadequacies. He shoots you a mischievous glance, confirming that he too is bored with this meeting, so much so that his mind had wandered into your own.
Of course the poor sod’s name was something ridiculous. If he was going to have a name as awful as that, he should just change it to Goldcoin or something similar. At least then it’d have relevance to his job.
Astarion pinches your hips in an attempt to stifle any laughter that may come out, and you yelp in surprise. You look at your lover and notice the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eyes. The ramblings from Rakath stop, and Astarion’s head snaps towards him. “Have you run out with excuses already, Glitterbeard? Or have you simply come to your senses and decide to own up to your shortcomings?” Astarion says with a growl.
You turn your head as well, excited to see what’s about to unfold. The dwarf readjusts his collar before clearing his throat, and the idiot decides to speak up against your Lord.
With the arrogance of a little kid, he says, “No, Lord Astarion, I just noticed that you seem to be preoccupied and thought I would wait until you regain focus.”
Astarion scoffs and you feel him grab onto your ass with one hand as he stands up and kicks back the chair he was sitting on. With his other hand, he pushes off all the paperwork that lay strewn about the desk. He sets you on the edge of the table before pushing you down so that your back is against the hardwood. He stares directly at that insufferable banker as he begins to thrust into you – hard.
“What was that about losing focus?” Astarion says with a crazed look in his eyes.
Rakath’s face turns bright red as he tries to stammer out a response, but it’s no use, as Astarion has already made up his mind.
“Silence. Pick up those documents and put them back on the table – in their correct order. After that, you will redo all of this week’s reports, as well as the last 4 month’s as well.” Astarion is interrupted by a noise of disapproval, his frustration reaching its highest point today. “I said silence. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how that tongue of yours works, shall I cut it out and show you?”
Rakath drops to the floor and begins frantically gathering the papers, all the while Astarion continues to slam into you with reckless abandon as he addresses the rest of the meeting attendees. 
“Do I need to remind everyone that you’re in the presence of the Vampire Ascendant? I am more powerful than you could possibly comprehend, yet you wager your lowly lives just to make some ridiculous point. I could replace you with the snap of my fingers and no one would even care. I keep you around because I couldn’t be damned to get rid of you – however, give me enough of a reason and I’ll put the dungeon to use.”
You weren’t sure exactly how or when it started, but whenever Astarion would get annoyed or pissed off during a meeting he would yank you closer and begin to fuck you, right there, in front of everyone. Somehow he was able to maintain composure as he catered to your needy whines, asserting his dominance over the room while he dominated you. He always took care of you, and one day, you got the brilliant idea to care for him in return.
You’re once again sat on your lover’s lap with his cock buried deep inside you. His nose is deep in a document, a contract with an architect from Neverwinter, and his shoulders are tensed. You delicately reach your hands behind his shoulders to start massaging the knots. He doesn’t acknowledge you save for a quick twitch in his ears, so you push harder, hoping to alleviate some of the stress the Vampire Lord must feel. Moving up to his neck, you meticulously knead every knot you find, humming a soft melody as each point of tension slowly comes undone. When you finish giving him a massage, one of your hands slightly brushes against his ear, causing a shutter to ripple through Astarion.
You quickly look at his face and notice his lips part, a silent moan leaving them. Interesting, you think to yourself, and you slowly reach out to stroke his ear.
You watch as Astarion gasps, eyes fluttering closed in contentment, the contract falling from his hands. He desperately tries to regain control by focusing on his breath. You caress the helix of his ear and his breathing hitches before a pleased sigh escapes his mouth and he leans into your touch. His hands move to your back to stabilize you as he begins to roll his hips, ever so slightly fucking you.
He looks so beautiful like this, you think to yourself. Astarion’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and if your heart was still beating, you’re positive it would’ve skipped a beat.
You can tell from his posture that he’s about to move your hand away, and the mind-link connection you share confirms that. The Vampire Ascendant has an image to upkeep, and he can’t show any vulnerability outside of the bed chambers. He starts to shift in his seat when suddenly, you take his ear lobe in your mouth. He mindlessly bucks his hips forward and grasps the armrests of his chair, splintering the wood. You nibble on the lobe, pressing and flicking your tongue against the soft skin.
He can vaguely see in his peripherals the guests from Neverwinter glance at each other and shift in their seats. One of them clears their throat and Astarion tries again to regain his poise but all he can think about is your lips on his ear. You roll your hips and gingerly reach out to his other ear, pinching and rubbing the tip. A quiet moan starts in the back of Astarion’s throat as you coo at him, telling him that he’s such a good lord, so strong, incredibly smart, your love. All the meeting attendants can do is watch as the Vampire Ascendant comes undone beneath your touch.
Astarion is panting as you whisper sweet nothings in between giving attention to his ears. You bite down on the flesh in your mouth – harsh enough to draw blood – and moan from the sweet ichor that flows into your body. The nobility that would usually cower at the mention of the vampire lord’s name now sit watching, unable to do anything in fear of retaliation. One of the younger nobles, the son of the architect, begins to slowly stroke his fingers against his strained trousers.
Within seconds, Astarion barks an order.
“Stop.”
You pause, concerned that you may have gone too far. Before you can ask if you did something wrong, you’re sat alone on the chair while Astarion is on his feet and holding the young man by his throat. He raises the boy above his head and dangles him above the table, his claws piercing into his flesh. The architect starts to get out of his seat but a nearby guest stops him.
“You fucking degenerate. How dare you please yourself while looking at my consort,” Astarion bellows.
The boy is unable to respond as blood fills his throat, causing him to suffocate. Astarion slowly closes his grip around his neck, watching as the architect’s son struggles to pull his nails out. The boy stops thrashing, the life drained from his eyes as his body goes limp.
Astarion continues to hold the corpse in the air as he addresses his room. “Leave. Now. And if so much as a word of today’s events is whispered outside of this room,” he pauses, throwing the body onto the table where the group congregates, “I will personally hunt each and every one of you.”
A few days later, a rumor silently spreads across Baldur’s Gate. Astarion, the unforgiving and merciless Vampire Ascendant, has a weakness. While many laugh and make jokes about how the powerful tyrant gets turned on with the touch of his ears, a resistance group takes note of his true weakness, and their key to his demise: you.
Part 2 Here
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pocketknifeprayers · 2 days
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damage control
by cj pocketknifeprayers. 587 words. ao3 link
party was in one of their moods.
not the sad kind. wasn't the wouldnt-get-out-of-bed kind, or quiet-'cept-for-waxing-poetic-about-death-and-hopelessness kind. instead it was the kind that scared kobra a lil more, the one where they snapped at little things 'n spoke too fast 'n the things they said just didn't make too much sense. self sacrificial 'n balls to the wall energy.
he could tell when they were gettin' like this. a certain tone in their voice. on edge, almost. or sometimes jus' a type of confidence that pissed people off, arrogant 'n unlike themself. kobra didn't appreciate that becoming his sibling's reputation. it made him mad. that wasn't them in their right mind.
tonight their tone had an edge to it. he could hear them, talkin' too loud in their room, too fast, rambling 'n then laughing sharply at something they'd said. kobra could hear ghoul's responses, too. taken aback, quiet, listening. tired, too. it was late. he could picture the scene behind the thin wall he pressed his ear against. could picture poison pacing, or worked up 'bout somethin' grand, with ghoul assuming the role of damage-minimizer, worried 'til they came back down in a couple 'a days. (hopefully only 'a couple a days.)
kobra chewed at the skin on his lip as he listened, little pieces flakin' off from dehydration. he heard ghoul say somethin' inside, somethin' quiet that party didn't appreciate, 'n their attitude did a 180. their tone told kobra that they were sayin' something hurtful in return, berating ghoul, 'n kobra cringed to himself. fuckin' christ. he heard footsteps and quickly backed away from the door in time to be out of the way when it swung open, ghoul pushing his way past 'n out, swiping angrily at a tear streaming down his face. kobra made eye contact with a very pissed-off looking party poison inside through the opened door. their glare got even harder 'n kobra flinched when they slammed the door in his face.
ghoul was crying when kobra came in the room. he gingerly sat down next to him on the sagging mattress. stayed quiet 'til he wanted to talk. he did, eventually. all stuff kobra already knew. he coulda predicted what ghoul would say from the start. worry, fear for party's state 'a mind. they took offense to his suggestion that they weren't doing well. this was the best they'd ever felt, theyd said. they always said that when they got like this. clearer than ever. they knew their purpose. they wanted to die for it. wanted to feel it that deep. they couldn't see how not normal that was, ghoul cried, frustrated. how they couldn't see somethin' was wrong.
kobra worried too. was hard not to when your sibling, or in ghoul's case, your partner was sayin' this typa stuff. actin' this way. friggen concerning. they used to take meds for it, he remembered. things were bad when kobra was little. they acted all kinds of sideways, then the city put them on some medication. he didn't know whether he agreed with it or not. it took this violent up 'n down away from them but at what cost?
all 'a this started again with those pink and white pills, crushed under their boot on the sandy asphalt: a renunciation of the system the two of them left behind.
kobra made up his mind to talk about it with them when things had passed. til then, they were doing the best they could. all of them, poison included.
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irondad-defensesquad · 13 hours
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(might be OOC, I'm mostly venting)
"Weren't you paying attention? How could you let that slip?"
"I-I don't know!" Peter, helpless, tries to explain as clearly as he can with the exhaustion ruling over him. "I didn't realize it until--"
"Jesus, kid, you could've gotten seriously hurt!" Tony argues. Peter only feels more overwhelmed. "At this point you can't just half-ass this! Like, you really half-assed this, you're a smart kid but sometimes--" (I doubt it, Peter internally completes).
"I GET IT, OKAY?!" The teen explodes. "I KNOW I messed up! You don't have to rub it in my goddamn face!"
His words shakes the walls and even DUM-E trembles.
Tony looks shocked. "Kid--"
Peter groans and aggressively returns to his desk. "I'll fix this stupid..." he mutters, because some part of him knows that's the best thing to do.
He can sense his mentor watching him.
Tony tries, "Kid."
Peter ignores him.
"Peter, look at me."
No can do.
Tony inhales angrily, then he approaches and tries to take the Spider-Man suit away from him, except Peter is quick enough not to let that happen. Some of the tools fall on the floor. The noise is deafening.
"Peter," Tony scolds more seriously. "Give me the suit."
"Or what? You're going to LEAVE me again?" Peter bites. "You're just going to disappear and remind me that you don't give a SHIT about me, RIGHT?!"
"Peter--"
"Yeah, well, I don't need you! I never needed you to begin with! And I certainly didn't need you when THAT WAREHOUSE DROPPED ON ME!"
Somewhere, the glass cracks. Or maybe it's Peter's mask finally breaking apart.
The true horror in Tony's face...
And the water leaking through Peter's eyes...
The boy throws his suit on the floor with all the strength he has, and he runs away as his sobs can no longer be repressed.
Peter can hear Tony calling for him. But he doesn't look back. He locks himself in his room. And Peter, covering his mouth, finally cries after what felt like forever.
He replays the whole thing in his head and it sickens him. Peter hates himself so goddamn much.
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crazywolf828 · 9 months
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To all my writers who have a tough time with smut terms and not knowing which ones to use, I have found the holy grail for us.
This reddit user, who I've recently found out is @kjscottwrites here on tumblr, took a poll of 3,500 people and went really in depth with asking their favorite terminology, along with actual pie charts on what the readers preferred to see in their smut.
Check out their post with the link to the Google doc here!
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reidiot · 10 months
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don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude
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strawberrywinter4 · 29 days
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The fact people write fics that could very well be award winning novels is insane.
Like—they write this for FREE. FOR FREE.
You beautiful bastards, I love you.
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bi-slut-buck · 9 months
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How i read fics
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