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#I CRIED FOLKS
fallloverfic · 10 months
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"Sailor Moon: Cosmos" part 2 movie trailer (spoilers)
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The first trailer for the second Sailor Moon: Cosmos film is up! (and I cried happy tears)
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acourtofwips · 9 months
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i know we always joke about jude being mean to cardan all the time and cardan just being her simp (which, he canonically is hahaha) but I like to imagine that jude actually becomes unbearably soft and sweet with cardan. but only in private.
i like to think that jude remains the strong willed fighter that she has always been— until she gets home.
when she gets home, she sheds the mask, she sheds the part of her that feels like it always needs to be on the defensive, she sheds the fear.
when she gets home, to their room, she throws her arms around cardan’s neck and hugs him tightly, pressing soft kisses to his neck.
when she gets home, she feels completely safe to cry if she needs to, to tell cardan that she loves him, to be vulnerable, to be soft; safe to let cardan pull her into his arms as they lie in bed and he showers her with the affection she’s always craved.
in the quiet dark of their room, i like to think that they whisper their darkest secrets to each other, their fears, their hopes, their wishes.
i don’t know ;0;
i just want soft jurdan ;0;
brb running to my computer to write this
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Sometimes I see content of my f/o that invokes such emotion within in me that I have no choice but to produce the most specific noise that perfectly encapsulates the feeling within that crawls out of the depths of my f/o infatuated mind.
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starrynightsxo · 6 days
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me when he said the sickness can't also be the cure
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sitchyation · 2 years
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"This is it
This is the end of EVERYTHING"
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ministarfruit · 1 year
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day 21: “this reminded me of you” ♡
(prompt list for femslashfeb)
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squash1 · 6 months
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"Post tenebras lux" light follows darkness
ronan lynch & edward teach <3
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[our flag means death / greywaren, maggie stiefvater]
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bones-of-a-rabbit · 1 year
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I just think readerbot and Moon deserve some nice moments, occasionally, yknow?
(i like to call this one, the power of being stuck in a broom closet with the subject of your affections COMPELS YOU)
(tiny extra under the cut)
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Inner Sun Cam didn’t make it into th final piece but do not fret, he is there in spirit
(Also YES the dialogue is from DHMIS and NO I will not be taking criticism and NO I do not CARE if this is CRINGE the dialogue is SOFT and VULNERABLE and it makes me feel WEAK)
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cold-neon-ocean · 6 months
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I respectfully demand more shiny whale people. Now.
Please. Ibegyou
HEHEHE worry not, I have plenty more shiny whales in the works!!! 🐳
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evenmorebeetles · 6 months
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KH is my newest interest, so I wrote a short thing about Riku being sleepy and sappy over his partners xoxo
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (no spoilers for any specific game)
Relationship: Sora/Riku/Kairi
Additional Tags: Domestic fluff, Riku POV
Rating: General Audiences
Wordcount: 585
Sora was probably the deepest sleeper Riku had ever met.  Once his head hit the pillow, everything around him ceased to matter, and he was out like a light.  From there, it was near impossible to wake him without liberal use of pots and pans or, on one occasion, a trumpet.  On days where they had somewhere to be, this was exasperating at best and at worst made Riku want to rip his and/or Sora's hair out.
But that morning, there was nowhere for them to be.  Of course, that didn't stop Kairi from abandoning them in favor of finding something to eat, but it left Riku and Sora in bed for the time being.  Riku had been awake for a decent while, not quite one to rise with the sun but leagues ahead of Sora, who was still drooling on Riku's arm.  Riku wouldn't miss the chance to mock him for it later, but in the moment, it just made his heart clench with an impossible fondness.
How could it not, when the sunlight filtering in through the curtains turned Sora's already tanned skin golden?  When his face was slack and peaceful in rest?  When, despite how utterly conked out he was, he still occasionally nuzzled into Riku's embrace?  Riku really never had a chance.
He lifted his arm from around Sora's waist to swipe the pad of his thumb across Sora's cheek, the movement steeped in reverence.  From there, he cupped his palm around the side of Sora's neck, feeling Sora's hair between his fingers and his steady pulse under his skin.  Riku dipped into the pool of his collar bone, caressed the ridge of it, trailed over the freckles on Sora's bare shoulder and arm.  When his hand caught the edge of the blanket, fallen to Sora's elbow, he pulled it up to protect Sora from the slight morning chill.
"You're still in bed?" Kairi asked from the doorway.  She clicked her tongue teasingly as she entered their bedroom and took a seat behind Riku on the bed.  "And you call us lazy."
Riku elbowed her gently, causing her to fold in on herself with giggles.  "Shut up," he muttered and scooted closer to Sora in an attempt to hide his smile.
Kairi took the opportunity to fill in his voided space, stretching herself along the line of his back and surrounding him in blissful warmth and the fruity scent of her soap.  She propped herself up on one arm so that she could lean over Riku's shoulder and rest her cheek on his.  "He's so pretty, isn't he?" she asked dreamily as she reached out with her free hand to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen over Sora's nose.
Maybe a little, if I squint, Riku would have said if Sora could hear him, just to be able to laugh at whatever insult got thrown back at him.  It was just him and Kairi, however, and maybe Riku could be a bit of a sap when he himself was still decently sleepy, so all he said was "Yeah," in the same tone that she'd asked the question in before grabbing Kairi's wrist and drawing it to his chest to hoard more of her touch to himself.  He felt the edge of her smile press into his face, but she made no comment as she indulged him and they both pretended, just for the moment, that she wouldn't snitch the entire gooey-sweet interaction to Sora when he woke up.
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wanton-votaress · 3 months
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I may be a nerd but I wasn’t the one who baked cookies based on my current interests
That was all @existing-is-bothersome
(Even if was a attempt to prove they are superior to me in the kitchen)
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sophsun1 · 6 months
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acourtofwips · 7 months
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Lie to Me, Please
okay so i accidentally wrote this iconic scene from cardan's pov ??? is it ooc ? maybe. is it completely incredibly totally self indulgent and for ME ??? yeS okay ? YES IT IS ;0; and if you don't like it pls pls don't tell me cause i am literally in tears already, okey ? okey
wc: little under 2k
scene: that part in twk where jude tells cardan to seduce nicasia sksksksk-- also it starts mid-scene soRRY !!!
X
“She was shooting at the girl, not you. She found you in bed with someone, got jealous, and shot twice. Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for everyone else, she’s a terrible shot. Now do you believe me that she wants you?” 
I feel her words like a slap to the face, anger washing over me. “I know not what to believe,” I say, trying to reel in my emotions. 
Just when I was beginning to think that maybe there was something there, something blooming— albeit slowly. She wants me to seduce Nicasia? Nevermind the fact that she is a friend of mine– how could Jude ask me to seduce another woman? I watch her intently as she forms her next thought into words, trying to see through them to what she is really saying. It's like a game we play, a puzzle I need to solve every time we speak. A sparring practice. I can see her discomfort in the deep blush on her cheeks, the shame in her eyes. But discomfort about what exactly?
“She thought to surprise you in bed,” she continues, “give her what she wants, and get the information we need to avoid the war.” 
Give her what she wants? As if I were a mere play thing that could be passed around? I push the disgust down at the thought and stalk toward her. “Are you commanding me?” My voice sounds harsh even to my own ears.
“No,” she says, startled into looking away from me. “Of course not.” 
I soften slightly. My sweet Jude, how your eyes tell the truths your mouth attempts to twist. Her cheeks flush deeper and her brows draw close as she keeps her eyes carefully away from mine. This will not do– if she is going to tell me such pretty lies I want her to at least look at me as she does. I want to see the truths she thinks she can hide from me. 
My fingers go to her chin and I tilt her head to look up into my eyes, my anger flaring back at the soft defiance I see in them. “You just thought I ought to. That I can. That I’d be good at it. Very well, Jude. Tell me how it’s done. Do you think she’d like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply into her eyes?” 
I watch closely as her eyes whisper their truths to me. She lets her chin rest on my fingers where I still hold her and I feel the delicate pulse of her heart through her soft skin. My darling, you cannot ever hide from me. I begin to lose my grip on myself but I hang tighter– I need to teach her a lesson. Jude, you think you can push me away onto someone else? You think you can play with me? I know this game better than even you do.
“Probably,” she says, her voice shakes and I resist the urge to smile, not too kindly. “Whatever you usually do.” 
“Oh, come now,” anger washes over me again and bleeds onto my words, making them almost heavy. “If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.” 
Her breaths are shallow, her cheeks retaining that lovely rose blush, her eyes dark with the desire she cannot hide. It threatens to undo me, the sight of her falling apart on my very own hand. I cannot resist the urge to trace my fingers over her soft, warm cheek, to trace the line of her lip and run my fingers softly down her throat. I watch her blood rush and paint her skin everywhere I touch. It is absolutely intoxicating. She is absolutely intoxicating, “Should I touch her like this?” I ask, my voice going softer than I intended, the awe doubtlessly apparent.
“I don’t know,” she says stubbornly. But I can hear the lie, I can hear it in the way her voice goes higher, breathless. I want to hear more, I want more.
I lean down and press my lips to her ear, placing a kiss on the perfectly round tip. My hands move almost on their own, skimming and exploring the skin of her shoulders. I feel her shiver beneath my touch and suppress a shiver of my own. Intoxicating. More than any wine or powder, I am drunk on Jude. Drunk enough to keep going. “And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her?” This is not about her, it was never about her. But if I ask Jude the wrong thing, say the wrong words I might break the bubble I seem to have caught her in. My mouth is against her skin, her scent filling my nose, my senses, my mind. “Do you think it would work?”
Her body remains tense beneath my touch but she trembles. The Great Jude trembles beneath the touch of a mere faerie. “Yes.” Her breathless response breaks my control.
Before I can so much as think, my mouth is on hers and her lips part. Her eyes close and I feel her hands reach up, her fingers tangling into my hair. Any anger I have ever felt washes away, leaving me bare before her. Her lips are soft, a sharp contrast to everything else about her. I kiss her softly, wanting this kiss to last a thousand years. Oh my sweet Jude, how I have longed for this. How I have longed for you. A thought slips into my mind, both terrifying and undeniable: There will only ever be Jude. For as long as I am to exist there will be nobody but Jude. A wave of fear washes over me, and I kiss her deeper to forget.
Or perhaps to cement it.
We stumble back onto the low couch. I lean her back against the cushions, lost in the moment, lost in Jude, ready for her to snap out of it. But instead she pulls me down over her. I am surprised, terrified, unable to stop. Drunk. I am positively drunk on Jude. Already too far gone, I speak the words I have been turning in my head, “Tell me what you said at the revel.” I climb over her, feel her body against mine, warm and surprisingly soft. 
“What?” Her voice is soft, her breath catching softly.
“That you hate me,” my voice comes out hoarse, thick with the emotion I can no longer suppress. “Tell me you hate me.”
The most beautiful lie I have ever heard. At least she spoke it as a lie that day at the revel. Her words caressed me softer than a touch.
I want to hear them again.
“I hate you,” she says, and again I feel them touch my skin ever so lovingly. She repeats the words over and over, her breath warming my skin. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” Her words, her voice, her body against mine, it fills me to the brim. 
I kiss her harder, whispering the lie back to her in the only way that I can. Her mouth slides over mine, and she pulls in a breath, taking my own breath with it. “I hate you,” her lips brush against mine with every word. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
Her words pull a harsh, low sound from deep within my chest. I am lost. I am lost to this mortal woman, and I fear I may never be found. I want to be lost to her for as long as I breathe. 
I slide a hand over her stomach, tracing her skin, feeling her warmth. I lean into her and kiss her again, unable to stop myself. Unwilling to stop myself. 
Intoxicating. 
I begin to unbutton her doublet, and I feel her tense ever so slightly. She tenses and relaxes, leaving herself open to me. I briefly wonder if she has ever done something like this before, if she feels the way I do. Does she also feel lost? Out of her own control? 
I lean up to pull off my jacket as she attempts to wriggle out of hers. I blink and it’s like I can see again. This is not right. This is not good– I am just another play thing, aren’t I? No, not to Jude, never to Jude. “This is an absolutely terrible idea,” but I cannot disguise the awe– or amazement, perhaps–  from my voice. I want to live in this terrible idea of a moment.
“Yes,” she says as she kicks off her boots. 
She attempts to remove her hose as I shuck off my cuffed white shirt. I don’t even have time to wonder what she will think of the scars that cover my skin before I notice that her hands are shaking. I capture them in my own hands and press a light kiss to each of her knuckles. “I want to tell you so many lies,” the words slip out so easily I barely feel them.
I feel Jude’s body shudder beneath mine, see the pulse of her hammering heart in the delicate point at her neck, and I can't help the hand that moves to touch between her thighs. I slide it over her soft skin just as one of her hands reaches out to mirror mine, fingers fumbling with the buttons of my breeches. I help her push them down, my tail curling against my leg before twisting to coil against hers. It tells the truths I dare not speak out loud. Her hand slides over my stomach, the slightest hint of hesitation giving away the answer I was so afraid of. A perverse feeling of elation and possessiveness comes over me at the realization. I am drowning in it, drowning in the feeling of being this close to her, of having her hands roam over my body as if she feels the same way I do. The same way I have felt for a while now.
I keep my eyes open, unable, or unwilling, to miss a single second of this moment. I want to memorize the blush that blooms on her skin just for me. I want to catch every single ragged breath, every noise that slips her careful control. She throws her head back and it’s all I can do not to sink my teeth into the soft skin she offers up to me. One of her hands reaches up and she digs her nails into my back, the pain delicious in its earnestness. 
I fight the urge to let go, to lose myself completely, to lose any detail, any second of Jude. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe it is the single worst decision I have ever made, but I will carry it with me for as long as I breathe. I keep my eyes open, keep my gaze on Jude, unable to look away even if I wanted to.
I push away the thought that this could be the only time I feel her body on mine. I close my mind to the intrusive idea that this means nothing to her, that she really does hate me and that this is all just a cruel punishment for all the wrong I have ever done. 
Jude, punish me forever. 
I beg of you, punish me for ever after.
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a-la-rascasse · 1 year
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𝐏𝐡𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧.
"[…] Phil recognized that he was less than an ideal father, but Meegan was the only person in his life that he had ever ─ and would ever ─ love uncoditionally."
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not-poignant · 3 months
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every time i write about the things i like and don't like in omegaverse personally i feel like such a weirdo in a weirdo little camp. like, 'oh i don't like this thing that is universally loved by nearly everyone in this genre' oop
it's not even that i think other people shouldn't love it, sometimes i just stare at myself like... why are you built this way.
but then i remind myself i wouldn't be here writing these stories if i wasn't built this way, and i think at least some of you enjoy that sometimes asdlkfjas at least sometimes!!!
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pweachfwoge · 1 year
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alskdhg a friend recommended Vermilion by annabelolee on ao3 and i haven't been the same since - 🍮
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