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shealwaysreads · 6 months
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Measure
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Laurent wasn’t a small man. 
He’d been a boy still, when he lost Auguste, and had looked up to him in the same way he had at an oak tree. But their nursemaid had shown him—before his uncle had unceremoniously dismissed her—where she had kept track of Auguste’s growth. Little notches on the wooden doorframe. That last mark was not long before his twenty-fifth birthday, he was so good, so kind to indulge me… she had told him. Laurent had stood next to it, the morning after his own twentieth birthday. He had already outgrown his big brother. 
Daily riding, sword practice, and the rigorous demands he made of his own body had built and defined it. He was stronger than he looked. He had inherited his father’s broad shoulders, along with his mother’s fair hair. He had managed to masquerade in a gown only due to his talent for self-control and knowing how to use his body both to repel and attract.
Laurent wasn’t a small man. But next to Damen—Damianos; his lover; a king; Exalted—next to him, Laurent felt almost petite. Their contrast was complete: hair, eyes, skin. Size. 
When they stood together, the top of Laurent’s head came only to Damen’s shoulder. When they embraced he could turn his ear and hear Damen’s heart beat. When he rested his hand over Damen’s—fair skin on dark, though both callused from horsemanship and warfare—his fingers looked delicate, his palm small. 
When he sat like this, straddling Damen’s sturdy hips, feeling the prickle of his hairy thighs against his ass, their cocks—both hard, blood-flushed and throbbing—lay next to each other against Damen’s belly. Laurent took them both in his hands, wrapping his fingers around their combined girth. Like this, he saw the difference between them too. Damen was thicker, longer, bigger.
It didn’t make Laurent doubt himself, he knew Damen was pleased with him and his body and all the ways it made Damen feel. 
No, Laurent loved the difference. 
He loved knowing his own strength and loved knowing that behind him at every step was Damen, towering. 
He loved the solid mass of muscle and bone that meant Damen could hold him down and take, but wouldn’t, unless Laurent wanted it. 
And he loved this. He loved taking Damen’s cock—heavy and hot—in his hand, and guiding it into himself. Loved the slow, aching slide down. Loved how long it took to settle himself back down into the cradle of Damen’s hips and thighs. How deep he felt Damen inside of him, right up in his belly. He loved the strain in his thighs as he rose high onto his knees before dropping back down. He loved it like winning a horse race, loved it like climbing a summit. 
Damen was a mountain, in every sense, and Laurent was the man who reached the peak and relished the true size of the achievement.
Read it here on Ao3 🖤
Written as part of @captiveprincekinktober for the prompt 'size difference’
Part of the Such-Like I Love Series
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As I have finally decided to finish watching The Good Place, I am delighted to see that someone has compiled a reading list based on the show. Just in case I, y'know, run out of Projects at some point in my life.
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ase-trollplays · 2 months
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The Moves You Didn't Make, and the Mistakes You Did
Thiomi stared up at the ceiling of her hospital room and sighed forlornly. Alternia was a cruel and unkind place, a hard lesson she was once again reminded of the during two weeks she was kidnapped and held prisoner, unsure if she would be allowed to live or ordered to die. The mutilation of her face and arms recorded for her best friend to see was an acrid and tainted icing on the cruelty cake.
However, there was still the occasional kindness of strangers, two such acts leading her to where she was now. The first act came in the form of a long haul trucker who spotted her on the barren road miles from the city who took pity on her. After he dropped her off at his destination in the city, the second act of kindness came from a blue blood with blue-dyed hair and matching blue jacket who escorted her to the hospital after she informed him of her full injuries. Despite her protests and insistence that he needn't waste his wealth on her, he informed the staff he would be paying for all of her medical costs and provided his address so they could mail him the bill.
She could barely thank him through her tears, though part of her was sure this act of charity would blow back on her in a terrible way in the future.
The nurse had asked if he she had quadrants she would like to call. The first one she contacted was her matesprit whose heart she could hear shatter over the phone as he pleaded for her location and told her he was on the way before hastily hanging up. Her second call was to--
"Where's Thiomi Shiaka??! I ain't leavin' outta here b'fore I see she's okay with my own eyes!"
The troll she hoped to take as a moirail. A decision she would very soon come to regret.
Corali stormed into her room and froze like a deer in the headlights when she laid eyes on Thiomi in her bed. The harshness of her arrival was all but forgotten as she walked to her bedside, looked her over with a pained, pitiful expression, and leaned over the side railing to give her a hug so gentle it was if she was afraid of breaking her if she held her too tightly. Thiomi reached up to put her arms around her, but a sudden sharp pain in both limbs forced her to set them back down on the bed. Corali immediately let go and backed away at least three feet with both hands raised.
"S-shit, did I hurtcha??" she sputtered, and Thiomi shook her head with a pained wince.
"No, it's not that. I just... hurt my s-stitches," she answered and looked down at her wrists where the long cuts ended. The rustblood approached again and gently took one of Thiomi's hands in her, then lightly trailed up her arm with her flesh and blood hand. She had stitches nearly all the way up her arm, and she was willing to bet the other arm was in just as bad shape. She then reached up and rubbed a thumb against one of the bandages on Thiomi's face hiding the deep slices in her cheeks. The yellows of Corali's eyes, which were already a light orange, turned umber with a mix of rage and sadness.
"... I'm glad yer okay. I mean, okay as ya can be, considerin'... y'know," she finally said, though part of Thiomi resented her words. "Where's Dan? I'm s'prised he didn't beat me here."
"He's s-still on the way... I don't think the empress herself could do anything to s-stop him," Thiomi answered with a hefty amount of guilt of her own. She never got a chance to explain anything to him before she was taken. The call from her hospital bed was the first time she spoke to him since her abduction, and she knew he was beating himself up for not somehow realizing something was wrong and flying to her aid. Her only relief was that Varoll was blissfully unaware of all of this, and she would stay that way if Thiomi could help it. A child shouldn't have that kind of stress and upset.
The two spent a few moments in silence as Corali took a seat next to the hospital bed and held her head in her hands in frustration. Thiomi stared down at her lap with her brows furrowed and her normally gentle eyes narrowed every so slightly. She clenched the blanket covering her lower body in her fists.
"S-so... when did you relapse?" Thiomi asked, suddenly curt. Corali went wide-eyed and still as words failed her. Thiomi didn't turn to face her, but Corali could feel her judging and critical glare all the same. "You s-smell like a brewery. How many nights did you s-spend drinking? Does Darius know?"
Corali could feel anxiety creeping in. "Is... Is now really the time ta be talkin' about my sobriety? Y'all just survived bein' held hostage an' tortured. I--"
"Was s-she right when s-she s-said you were s-spending every night getting drunk? Did you even try to find me?" she asked with a growing venom in her voice. Corali stared at her in hurt and confusion at where this sudden vitriol was coming from.
"Thiomi, I... Okay, yeah, I relapsed, but-- Fuck, I was fallin' apart at the seams! I didn't know if y'all were alive'r dead, my job got bombed an' I wound up gettin' fired again! An' the whole time I'm bein' taunted by that psychotic bitch! I cracked! I was scared an' mad an' anxious an'--"
"Do you have any idea what it's like to s-spend every night not knowing whether you're going to live to s-see the next one? Do you know how it feels to fully, truly realize how unsafe you are? Have you ever been s-so s-scared that you cried yourself to s-sleep every day praying for your life to be s-spared? Praying that if you are killed, your loved ones won't be targeted next? Do you???"
Thiomi finally looked at her friend with tears and a burning anger in her eyes so intense Corali momentarily felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. Words completely and utterly failed her. She opened her mouth to talk -- She made three attempts -- but no explanation or justification ever formed.
"Th-Thiomi, where's this all comin' fro--"
"You didn't answer me. Did you even try to find me?" Thiomi repeated, her quiet voice doing little to counter the deafening volume of her disappointment and tranquil fury. She knew that, more than likely, Corali never would have found her. Thiomi herself didn't even know where she was kept, but that wasn't the point. Joclyn mockingly told her that Corali wasn't looking for her, that she hadn't even made any attempt, that she was spending all of her nights at hive getting plastered and wallowing. At first she was sad, devastated even. However, as she was carved on camera, that sadness turned into a slow burning anger.
An anger that was finally coming to the surface. This was Corali's fault.
Corali said nothing and bit her lip with enough force to reopen the puncture wounds from the other night. The lack of verbal response was all the confirmation Thiomi needed. Her sympathy well was now barren and dry.
"Her name's Joclyn, and s-she's a jade. S-she hired the troll who kidnapped me. Whoever s-she hired probably doesn't like her s-since they were willing to tell me about her," Thiomi told her dryly and looked away from Corali and back down at her lap. Corali felt like she got whiplash from the sudden change of subject.
"Wha--"
"They were also really cold, like ice, s-so they might be a s-seadweller. If s-she could hire a s-seadweller, s-she probably has or knows s-someone with a lot of money. Probably a highblood."
Corali tried to take in everything Thiomi was saying. However, she wouldn't get the chance to ask any more questions as she was interrupted before she even had the chance to open her mouth.
"Go away."
"Wh... Y'all can't be serious. Yer throwin' me out?"
"No. I'm telling you to leave me alone. S-security will be the ones to throw you out if you don't." Thiomi's tone was like ice: Cold, harsh, and unforgiving. She reached for the button to call for a nurse, but she didn't press it. This was the final warning the rust would be given, a silent threat. Corali furrowed her brow and gritted her teeth before harshly exhaling through her nose and rising to her feet.
"Arright, I'm goin," she acquiesced and walked toward the door. However, she stopped abruptly in the doorway and turned her head to look at the angry, traumatized woman. "An' fer yer information, I know exactly what all that's like. I know all that an' more'n y'all've ever seen. When ya stop bein' pissed at me, ask me about my childhood. I gave y'all the cliffnotes b'fore. Next time, I'm tellin' it all."
And with that, Corali exited the room and stomped toward the elevators to take her back down to the first floor. She kept mentally going over the information Thiomi gave her: A jade named Joclyn with enough money to hire a seadweller to work for her, and Corali at some point hurt one of her quadmates.
She didn't have everything figured out just yet, but she swore that as soon as she found her -- And she would find her -- she was going to make her regret what she put Thiomi through for the rest of her life.
All five minutes of it.
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francoulduseaplan · 5 months
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ok cool so anyway, my biggest takeaway from nerdy prudes must die is that joey richter would make a terrific seymour krelborn wbu?
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getawayfox · 9 months
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Are you currently reading a fic :)?
Well, lovely Anon, indeed I am! However, I can’t tell you much about it just yet, because what I'm reading right now are all the fantastic submissions to @hp-bodiceripper in preparation for posting, which starts August 1st. So many brilliant works to reveal! Soon!
What I can tell you about is a WIP I have the absolute pleasure of cheerreading now: Terrible People by @wolfpants, which will start posting in August. If you haven't yet seen their WIP snips, you can check them out here!
August will be a brilliant month!
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kaypanda · 4 months
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If you need some thing to read on WEBTOON go read:
Literary Link
High class homos
Sunflowers and lavender
Boyfriends
The prep and goth
My Nextdoor neighbor
Our walk home
Night owls & summer skies
These are some good ones I highly recommend checking them out
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ombrekaleidoscope · 1 year
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I’ve got gifted Legends & Lattes I’m so excited!!!!!!
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vaspider · 2 years
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Hello! hope your shavuot was good. I’m here with another literature recommendation, Leatherdyke Boys and Their Daddies: How to Have Sex without Women or Men
https://www.jstor.org/stable/466741
👀
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fairymint · 2 years
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Are you interested in a Generation 5+ Pokemon protagonist? How about one that grew up talking to a Pikachu? And what about others, such as Volo, Arceus, the rival Akari, Cynthia, and more? ....do you like smash bros? In that case, welcome to the multimuse featuring a self insert, enjoy your stay!
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mellasart · 1 year
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so, I've been talking about this project for a while now, and I finally finished it! I'm calling this one “The Masquerade”
(also it only shows up on dark mode, I have no idea why, I’ll try to fix it though)
enjoy <3
“You’re throwing everything away, sister.”
 The image still remains vivid in my mind, even all these years later, his ornate mask thrown onto the paving stones of the courtyard, his red hair swaying in the cold wind, and the knot that was threatening to form in my throat as his face searched mine for any indication that I cared. 
He wasn’t able to find any. Probably due to the fact that I truly didn’t care.
“Don’t you hear me? You-” I hardly listened to his pleas, instead opting to raise my gloved hand, high into the crisp air. His brows furrowed, confusion lined the features of his young face. His eyes, so similar to my own, never strayed from mine, barely acknowledging my hand gradually coming down upon my head, resting on the cool golden crown that rested there. 
“I have this, and you do not.” My voice was colder than I expected, and he felt it. I watched as his hands dropped, the hope in his eyes fading. He had given up, and I had won. I turned, feeling the layers of my dress’s delicate fabric brush against the ground. I held my head high as I left him behind for the glamorous ball happening within the castle. However, my victory soon felt bitter in my mouth, as I heard his last shred of defiance manifest into a string of words that managed to entangle my throat, catching my breath.
“They would be so disappointed with who you’ve become.”
Earlier that Night •
My reign began as strong as my parents had hoped for when they left the kingdom to me, as many seem to ignore. However, no amount of playing to the people’s wishes would have blinded them from the pain I was bound to have caused. My beloved parents were taken away far too soon, before any of us had anticipated. My father had always said I wouldn’t have to worry about taking upon the role of queen, for our kingdom, Thiouren, was safe and prosperous, and he was meant to live a long and full life. And I, a kingdom that I was prepared to rule over. 
Things never seemed to go to plan. Once I was queen, I reveled in my newfound power, the glamour and magnificence that came customarily with my title. I found that my control extended farther than my imagination. All beginning with the customary ball thrown to commemorate when the throne is passed down to the next in line. 
I wanted to test the boundaries of my reign. I was young and foolish, and decided that this ball would have been nothing more than a bore, and focused instead on making it into an extravagant affair. A masquerade ball. I requested to have the traditional coronation gown as well as an heirloom mask modified, they were to be made entirely of solid gold. As were the chandeliers, and candlesticks, and nearly anything else I could get my hands on. The mounds of gold stored beneath my palace slowly drained, until I was relying entirely upon what my people provided. If someone had a particularly large harvest, it went to me. If anyone found precious materials, my soldiers mined them. I sucked every bit of wealth out of my people for this ball. It required months of preparation, I hardly left the castle, I hardly even went to hear my council out. I listened not to my people’s issues or requests, as it had occupied all of my passion and thoughts. I needed to be there to make sure all of the kingdom’s time and energy was spent on this ball. There simply wasn’t time or space for anything else. 
It was a lavish party. Nearly the entire kingdom made an appearance. I had never thought of myself as the type to desire the social life, but one glance at the ballroom in all its glory, filled to the brim with people in their finest wear, was a feeling that could compare to none other. The chandeliers were teeming with fresh candles, casting a golden glow upon the layers of lace and velvet that adorned those around me. The gold mines, so rich and overflowing with precious metals, couldn’t hold a candle to the shine of that room. 
No one shined as much as she did, though. They never even seemed to come close. 
Her skin would glow, her dark eyes glimmering with delight as I approached her. Coils of thick black hair cascaded down her back, resting perfectly upon her shoulders. The gold that adorned her collar mirrored her name, the lady Amber. A childhood friend of mine, she never seemed to look at me any differently than she did those not of my lineage. Of all the ladies of the court, she was the only one I ever truly felt close to. I took a tentative step forward, leaning down and feeling the velveteen layers of my gown reach the marble floor below. I brought my hand up to meet hers, giving it a gentle kiss. 
“May I have this dance?” I smiled, despite my nerves. Her hand was warm in mine, her bejeweled rings brushed up against my shaky palm. 
“Of course, your majesty.” A smirk spreads across her face, lining her features with humor. Although, I never expected myself to get accustomed to the title, almost as if I had been able to predict how it would soon be taken away from me. 
The Next Morning •
The silence sat heavy that day. Many of my parent’s trusted advisors had congregated in the meeting room to speak with me. They were displeased. I sat comfortably at the head of the round table, bearing little concern towards the issues they presented to me, instead enjoying the crushed velvet throne I had ordered the castle seamstresses to construct for me. There were countless scrolls sitting atop the table, a physical manifestation of my mistakes. I turned to my brother, hoping he would be joining me in finding this whole thing a bit ridiculous, thinking we could laugh about it together. 
He didn’t even meet my gaze. 
There had been a large portion of my people that were angry with me, thinking that I had been disrespectful to my parents. The wealth they had accumulated had been desecrated, in their eyes. There were rumors that I cared not about upholding tradition and paying homage to the work they had done for Thiouren, and that I only wished to throw my kingdom's resources into parties and ball gowns. I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a sliver of truth in that. 
Despite the council’s concern, I wasn’t worried. The people complaining that I hadn’t yet done anything to benefit the kingdom were simply asking for too much, I thought. I believed that I was to protect the kingdom if there was a large problem, and at the moment, I didn’t think there was. I stood tall, towering above the hunched figures of my council, all turning up from their scrolls and letters to watch as I made my way out of the meeting room.
The halls, usually bustling with countless figures going about their work, were empty. My footsteps echoed, bouncing off the many marble pillars that held up the castle. My pace was brisk, yet faltered the moment I glimpsed the portrait hall to my right. The ornately carved doors were left open, almost asking me to enter. The room was hauntingly empty, the silence was eerie. As I sauntered through the room, I felt the eyes of countless generations of my family watching me. One in particular caught my eye. My parents, holding my brother and I in their arms. I brought my hand to the humble frame, hearing their words vividly in my mind, remembering how often they spoke of giving to the people. I almost felt as if they could read my mind, seeing my defiance of the council. They had been so proud of the group of trusted people that they had established. Not one soul had entered the meeting room under their order that ever had any grievances with being there, simply wanting to aid their kingdom. I allowed memories of my parents to wash over me, like a fog over a harbor. Suddenly though, something broke through the haze. 
A single rip in the otherwise flawless section of the painting that I was in. Right through my neck, and deep into the canvas. 
That Night •
The sound of shattering glass flooded my senses. Panic rushed through my body. Any hope that I was still in a nightmare was gone the moment I heard my brother’s yells, drowned in a sea of screams. My quarters reeked of smoke, and a thick layer of debris lay heavy on my floors. I grab my hair, holding my head as I try to make sense of the situation. I brought my hands down, bringing with them several auburn hairs, it scared me how shaky and pale they were. I shook my head, trying to silence the nagging thought that began to take hold of my mind’s reins.
“This is all my fault.” 
There was a fire. I heard it crackling, the wooden parts of the castle slowly becoming engulfed in flames. The image of my beloved Amber flashed into my mind, and any sense of self preservation left me as I sprinted down the halls, hearing nothing but the pounding of my heart in my ears. I burst into Amber’s quarters, hardly being able to form words to describe the sensation I was feeling. The charade had broken, the weight of the situation was crushing me. I couldn’t believe it had taken me that long to realize that I had ruined everything. All that my parents had worked for had been thrown out the window, and I had watched it fall. The embarrassment was unbearable, I had been so reckless and immature, and it may have cost me everything. Hot tears burned my cheeks, I felt my face turn ruby red. I had been an imbecile and the people my parent’s cherished were suffering as a result of it. I tried to find the words to say to Amber, but all I managed to muster was “It’s all my fault.” 
Her hands caressed my face, I wrapped my arms around her. I was shaking, but as the image of flames danced in my vision, I slowly felt as my sadness and regret hardened into a tight ball in the center of my chest. 
“You can fix this, I’m here for you, you know.” Amber whispered into my ear. 
I shook my head. There was no remedy, no magical cure that could reverse the damage of months of reckless abandon. There were cries for my head, flames reaching out to catch me. I feared leaving the castle, but even more I feared facing my brother knowing I risked our family name for the sake of having fun. I held Amber close, as the realization that I may have to leave her dawned on me. As there was only a single solution surfacing in my mind. 
I had to fake my own death. 
It wouldn’t be complicated. The castle was flooded with pandemonium, I could easily weave through the corridors that I knew so well. All it would take for them to avoid searching for me is a bloody knife, seemingly dropped with reckless abandon in the woods. There were other kingdoms nearby, where I could find food and warmth until deciding what to do with myself. What would I do? Questions began to cloud my mind, and apparently my face as well, seeing as how Amber soon asked,
“What are you thinking of, my love?” Concern etched itself into her face, pulling on the strings attached to my heart. I didn’t want to tell her, since she could easily have everything she wishes if she let me leave. However something in the way her eyes bore into my own, so full of love and hope, told me she wouldn’t have it. 
I told Amber my plan. Her face grew solemn, we both knew it was the only way yet it was still a difficult decision. We hastily gathered our things, I wanted to savor the moment that would likely be my last in the castle, if my plan worked. I had taken a moment to appreciate every tapestry, every ornate detail carved into the wood. From the smallest window, to my parents’ immense stained glass portraits, I took in every detail of the place I had grown up in like it was the first time I had ever been there. 
As we hurried past my brother’s room, I felt a sharp pain in my heart, knowing that I would probably never see him again. Something inside of me told me it was for the good of the kingdom, and even if I stayed, it wouldn’t change anything. I would have still been dead to him. As I stood in front of his door, all of the things that I wish I could say to him ran through my head. I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued when yet another wave of pain rushed through me, as I remembered that my brother would be entirely alone. My parents have been gone for some time, and I was his only other family member. I turned to Amber, her face silently reassuring me that this must be done. I clasped her hand in mine, grateful for her presence but hoping I could have found a way to speak to my brother again. 
The brisk night air felt icy on my skin as we ran through the expansive gardens separating the castle walls from the forest beyond. The sounds of destruction were in the distance now, instead the hurried breaths of Amber and I as we lugged our way through the cold. We didn’t have much time. They wanted my blood spilled, and once they made it through the towers to my quarters and realized I wasn’t in my bed, their wishes might be granted. 
Once we cleared the gardens and began our journey through the forest, I started to get giddy. I had gotten close to accepting my demise, and something about the way we were running through the dirt under the pale light of the moon felt liberating, somehow. I started to smile, turning to Amber to see a matching grin plastered on her face. Our hands still entwined, we somehow managed to find our way in a world I had taken for granted. 
Ten Years Later •
My eyes burst open, my hands clenched the linens of our bed. Images from my nightmares still dotted my vision. I strained to see the reality, the humble home we had made on the outskirts of a small farming village by vast forests, blocking my tainted memories of the castle from my mind. The warm air settled on my clammy skin, the sound of wind through fields echoed my silent sobs. 
Amber walked over to me silently, and as the tears rolled down my cold face, she began to wrap her arms around me, holding me as I felt the waves of immense guilt from what I had done. I looked into her brown eyes and saw nothing but love and admiration in them. I couldn’t see my own, but I hoped they showed the same. I held her close, inhaling her scent of dirt and herbs. She ran her fingers through my hair and my breathing slowed, while the ache in my chest remained, perpetually weighing me down. I knew that all that transpired resulted from my irresponsibility. I could almost picture my brother, ruling over a kingdom that he had to build back up from the rubble I had left him. I knew he was able to do it. We were far from Thiouren but the faint chime of the castle bells that meant a ball was to be held there that night still reached my ears.
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shealwaysreads · 6 months
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Caught
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Laurent arched, catlike, and turned to catch Damen’s eye.
“Damen, come on—” he sighed, stretched, threw down the gauntlet “—like you mean it. Like you want me with child. Deeper.”
Damen’s hips stuttered—he couldn’t—they couldn’t—but suddenly, he wanted—then drove forward.
Soon he spilled, but held still.
“Let it take, Laurent.”
Read it here on Ao3 🖤
Written as part of @captiveprincekinktober for the prompt ‘breeding'
Part of the Such-Like I Love Series
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So far the most laugh-out-loud piece of advice in The Artist's Way is the idea that you should go for a week without reading. "...You will run out of work," she claims, "and be forced to play." I found this hilarious, so I checked her bio and found that she does have a child. Maybe the child lived with dad?
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ase-trollplays · 2 months
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==> Corali: Check your phone
(Arriak belongs to @cloudbattrolls )
It was mid evening now, and Arriak just left not too long ago after doing a welfare check on you. Although he didn't know the recent stress you've been under, not hearing from you or seeing you at your job was enough to set off red flags in his mind and force him to follow up on your sudden disappearance. The look on his face when he saw the deep bags under your eyes, the light gone from your exhausted expression, the disarray of your hair, and the nights-old rumpled and stained clothes you were wearing would have broken your heart if it hadn't been so thoroughly demolished already. He didn't give you the option of turning him away.
You told him everything about the stalker, Thiomi's likely kidnapping, the loss of your job, and the subsequent relapse when the stress became too hard for you to bear anymore. You clenched your fists tightly enough for your nails to puncture your palm and bit your lip until you drew blood as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him. What little stubborn pride you had left in you forbade such a show of weakness. You would allow yourself release only when you were alone, and you were quick -- Perhaps a little too quick, not to mention sharp -- to silence him when he attempted to coax you into letting out your very obvious stress. You should have apologized when he flinched at your harsh refusal.
You should have, but you didn't. Stubborn as ever even in the midst of your anxiety at the worst it's ever been since you were five and being subjected to enslavement and constant abuse.
At the very least, he did you the kindness of confiscating what little of your alcohol you hadn't consumed. Which you thanked him for only to snap at him even more aggressively when he offered to help with your situation somehow and demanded he leave you to your misery. As if there was anything he can possibly do to un-fire you from your job and un-kidnap your would-be moirail and make you un-relapse. Any protest quickly died when you ejected the retractable blade from the back of your cybernetic arm and gave him a glare that could curdle milk.
You should have apologized for that, too, but you didn't.
After he left, you blew off steam by beating your punching bag in the garage until you had no strength left in you. You didn't have a choice. If you didn't completely deplete every ounce of anxious energy you had, you would have started throwing and breaking things.
By the time you thought to check your phone, the newest text message was fifteen minutes old. It's from Thiomi. You couldn't open the message fast enough. It was a video, but the thumbnail was a little bit blurry. It looked like the camera was facing Thiomi and someone else, which was odd, but you were just relieved to finally hear from her.
That relief immediately vanished when you watch the video.
With every word the disguised troll said, every cut made on Thiomi's body -- The poor girl was stripped of her sweater just to allow access to her arms unimpeded -- every drop of blood and tears from your pale crush, the tone her tormentor used when speaking directly to you
You could feel a fire light in your very core, a violently raging, swirling, erupting inferno that consumed your every thought. You crushed your phone in your hand, and you could feel your entire body suddenly feel like intense, almost maddening static like you were covered in poking and prodding pins and needles, the telltale sign that your secondary psionics were triggered. Suddenly the anxious energy you burned off came back one hundred fold, and you felt like you could take out an imperial drone with a single punch.
You stormed outside and let out a deafening, primal, enraged shout that you swear caused ripples in the once silent night air. You took another breath and screamed again, and again, and again until your throat was raw and your voice ragged and hoarse. Then you screamed again, one last time.
This was fucking war now, and you were a one woman army.
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francoulduseaplan · 2 years
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fuck it
petition for rhys darby and taika waititi to put on their little gay pirate costumes and sing "love led us here" from muppet treasure island
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asirensrage · 1 year
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I am not the norm with my fictional crushes - I recognize this. But dammit, I'll be giving Glen Bateman and Tyrion Lannister all of my damn love anyway. All of it!
(bring on all the drunken vaping psychoanalytical philosophical nonsense!)
Also, if there's still review spots left - I'd love to hear your thoughts on Spiral (or Diving but that's harder to pull a stand alone chapter.) It's a long chapter fic, so I don't expect you to read it all, but one of my favorite chapters is Five (since I'm a hurt/comfort junkie). Fourteen is also a good rep of my OC/her additions to the canon story, (which worries me due to the additional influx of magic with my OC.)
There's no norm on crushes because everyone has different tastes and opinions. Sometimes we need that nonsense in our lives ;)
There are! I'll add you to the list! Thank you for participating!!
Send me your fictional crushes
ridea’s 1k followers celebration
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lupindraco · 2 years
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