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#i’m trying something new
teturelira · 2 months
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Healing potion
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kairasims · 11 months
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🖤Brielle Riley🤍
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scarlett-vixen · 2 years
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I Have an Offer
Hello my dearest’s, I’m still working on my next little fic but since I’ve had several asks saying how much you guys enjoy the story I thought I would make this an option:
• The next part to Vicious will be Mammon’s part as I’ve mentioned before. I know I have several followers who adore him as much as I do, as well as followers who are just very invested in the story itself. I thought I would offer that if anyone would like to be tagged in his part/chapter let me know! I’m about half way through with it BUT it’s becoming quite lengthy so I may split it into two parts (I’ll decided once I’m totally finished) It will be heavy with angst but also very soft/comfort at the end. Belphie may or may not get his ass kicked in this chapter also
TLDR: If you also love/simp over Mammon, want to see Belphie get his shit rocked by Mammon OR just really enjoy the Vicious storyline and would like to be tagged when I post the next part: Like/Comment/Interact with this post 💖
✨IF YOU LIKE THE POST I WILL TAG so don’t just randomly like it✨
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nerdygaymormon · 2 years
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satellite-evans · 1 year
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Writing an angst fic for the first rn feeling nervous
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mercurial-harlot · 1 year
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Eye mask: on
Earplugs: in
Melatonin: dosed
Sleepy: engage
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crybaby-bkg · 3 months
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love it when men have a wife/daughter and refers to you guys as his girls ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
bakugou always says it whenever he’s using you as an excuse for something - gotta get home to my girls early tonight or gotta get my girls some dessert since I forgot last time or my girls said I can’t go out with you idiots tonight even though you guys are begging him to go out so you can have a girls night!!!
and kirishima!!!! he always carries pictures of you guys in his wallet, as a Polaroid tucked into his phone case, as his wallpaper on his phone, tucked behind glass on his desk. perks up anytime someone asks him about his family, has the biggest grin as he goes on and on about how beautiful his girls are, how his daughters are spitting images of you, how sweet you all are to him.
just my girls ☹️☹️☹️☹️
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xxrat--punkxx · 8 months
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Repair day
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dragon-subway · 8 months
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Steel wool is so cruel for making us just leave her there without even a proper goodbye
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mrghostrat · 2 months
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apologies to all non-aussies but the way ur human!crowley professions list is screaming tradie au has me CACKLING
THATS MY GUY LMAOOO
listen crowley is either a platinum amex inside trader in designer clothes and a set dressed apartment, or a walking oil stain in hand me down overalls who steals supplies from his boss and sneaks an extra five on every smoko. there is no in between.
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wifegideonnav · 1 year
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reason 1927363 that i love the locked tomb characters is because none of them are fucking cool. yes they all have their moments. but all of them are deeply incurably cringe at their core. representation matters yknow? finally someone brave enough to say that lame girls can be protagonists too
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future-crab · 4 months
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Tiny Gerard for your dash
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[ID: a painted sketch of Gerard Way done in blue acrylic paint on white paper. It shows Gerard looking slightly mournful as they sing into a microphone. They are wearing long black leather gloves, a white blouse, and a black tie. End ID.]
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stargirl-and-potts · 6 months
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Also I love how they took the time in the beginning to show us Stede waiting tables cheerfully and sleeping in a corner on the floor and making the best of the leaky bridge situation. And how they showed him returning to find the Revenge shattered and gutted, painful as that was, and how he just set about making it home again.
How even without all his fine things he created an oasis of lights and flowers and feasting together with Ed. How Ed thrived on fixing locks and walking around in sandals with his leathers tucked safely away and cannonballing into the ocean and learning to fish. How they wanted to dance together without the violent world intruding. How much they’d adore building a home together out of that ridiculous little ruined cabin.
How much Ed might get daydreamy and philosophical out in a rowboat and forget to actually catch the fish, but if Stede told him to buckle down he’d love it, and Stede might miss his cursed coat but he’s got a shiny little earring to tide him over and if he gets insecure Ed will tell him he’s his mermaid, fine clothes or no. How they both know just how close they came to dying alone, and they will treasure wholeheartedly learning how to really live.
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mukoi-the-devoted · 15 days
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A Cass doodle :)
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ricky-mortis · 21 days
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Heard it was @marykatewiles ‘s birthday today so I drew Tatiana :)
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crybaby-bkg · 4 months
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cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism
as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.
Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.
it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.
“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.
“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”
his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.
and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.
the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.
the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.
“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.
“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.
he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.
“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.
“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.
“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.
“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.
“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.
you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.
is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?
“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”
you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?
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