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#writing is my worst enemy
hotnerdywizard · 2 months
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Ahoy ahoy, we know that Gale has amazing hands, they're ever so delicious and throw us into a horny vortex and I don't plan on being yeeted anytime soon.
I think he would be big into textures, fabric in particular and if we're going down this rabbit hole lace.
Can I get some sexy (or not) ramblings on how Gale would react to Tav sauntering up to him in some lacey ensemble.
I can repay the favour with Gale screenshots 🤣
Hello hello 👋🏼
GALE’S. HANDS. 🥵🥵
Sorry, had a little moment there, thinking about his beautiful, elegant hands — those long, slender fingers, the things he can do with them… Aaand I digress again 😂
But yes! Lace! Lace is a double whammy for Gale, because not only does he get to enjoy the texture of it, but it’s also very nice to look at so he would get an extra kick out of that, like the little sensual being that he is.
Imagine this (sorry it’s long, I got carried away):
You have not been able to indulge yourself for a while. The road to Baldur’s Gate has been fraught and full of peril, so you have been wearing the most sensible undergarments in your possession. Vanity is a thing of the past — you can’t even remember if you ever had any to begin with.
As you look around Facemaker’s Boutique, you suddenly realise that Gale has only ever really seen you in combat gear, and a pang of self-consciousness shoots through you as you wish you could be more beautiful for him. Not that he minds, really. In fact, he seems to prefer it when you wear nothing at all.
But tonight is special. Tonight you will finally enjoy sleeping in a real bed after weeks on the road. You will enjoy the luxury of a readily-available bath, of fresh sheets, of perfumed skin. The luxury of being alone with him without worrying about the rest of your unlikely band of adventurers. No need for subterfuge, no need for politeness, no need for restraint.
So, yes — why shouldn’t you invest some of your well-looted earnings to buy something that would be as much for yourself as it would be for him?
Your gaze lingers on a delicate, lacy number in the most beautiful lilac hue. It’s Gale’s palette, and you instantly know it was meant to be. You don’t even flinch when Figaro tells you the eye-watering price. You just know it’s worth it. For him.
He suspects something is up when you have to literally plead him to leave the room you just set foot in. He wants you, and he wants you now. You want him too — desperately, as you always do — but you have to stay strong, reminding yourself that your reward will be all the greater, if you can somehow just wait. So you push him out of the room, and the look he gives you is enough to set your core ablaze. You know he will make you pay for this in the most sinfully delicious way he can. He never disappoints.
You languidly lay in the bathtub as you scrub away all the dust, the dirt, the blood that seem to be the makeup of your new existence. Your hands trail over your body, but they are poor substitutes for his. Soon.
You dry and arrange your hair neatly, a few drops of perfume purposefully placed on your pulse points, and slip into what you hope will be the maker of Gale’s ruin, covering your scantily-clad body with a matching robe of iridescent gossamer fabric. Another indulgence, another gift you couldn’t simply resist giving him.
When you finally allow him in, his eyes grow wide and his mouth hangs in disbelief, silenced for once. He looks at you as if you’re made of the Weave itself, your robe shimmering with your every move in an explosion of purples and blues. A twinkling constellation to match his beautiful illusions.
His hands caress the delicate fabric, appreciating the sheer artistry that it would have taken to create such a beautiful garment. His nimble fingers make deft work of the laces holding it close — he needs to see more of you, all of you, because no matter how breathtaking you look right now, nothing can compare to the beauty of your naked body.
When the robe falls off and pools at your feet, Gale’s breath hitches in his throat. Lilac looks wonderful on you, the delicate craftsmanship of your undergarments enhancing your shape, hugging each curve, highlighting your best assets and rendering your lover truly lost for words. For no words are fit to convey your beauty and the depths of his desire for you.
His fingers softly trace the lacey pattern, contouring each leaf, each petal, each delicately crafted branch. It’s a true work of art, meant for his eyes only, and yet it only pales in comparison to the real masterpiece underneath it.
You shiver with every touch, trembling with every devouring look he places upon you. Although you are still somewhat clothed, you feel naked under his hungry gaze.
When he brings his mouth down to sample the fabric on his tongue, and hear his throaty moans of appreciation, you cannot help but wonder what good you have ever done in this world to deserve this man.
You cling to him for fear your legs may give way, as he explores every inch of you, undeterred by the barrier of fabric just barely preventing his lips from touching your most sensitive spots. You are the sweetest of treats, and he will surely take his time before he finally unwraps you.
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afewproblems · 10 months
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Prompt 53. "I'm flirting with you!" Part Two
A follow up to This Post
@happymediummm I promise the answer to your ask will be up soon in part three!!
Eddie stews in his room for three days following the incident at Steve's house. 
Wayne attempts to coax him out with food and coffee, even opening up the pack of bacon they'd been saving in the freezer, anything to try and get Eddie to talk to him. 
"I'm just worried s'all," he says softly from Eddie's doorway on the third day, his expression pinched in that way Eddie hates, "you should go out, do something, come on".
Wayne claps his hands together and disappears for a moment only to return with a tape case from the living room.
"Wayne, no--"
"It's overdue Eds, just bring it back for me would ya?"
Eddie groans into his hands at the triumphant expression on his uncle's face as he gets up from his bed and tugs on his leather jacket. 
"Since your friends work there," Wayne says brightly, gesturing with the tape as he hands it over to Eddie, "you should see if they waive the late fee for us". 
"I agreed to take it back, not talk to people," Eddie grumbles under his breath as Wayne shakes his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze.
"At least you won't be growing mold anymore, sitting there in the dark," Wayne says with a wink, ignoring the indignant scoff Eddie makes.
"Store closes in a half hour kid, you better hurry!"
Shit.
Eddie grumbless petulantly as he hurries out the door, ignoring the way Wayne compares his groans to a haunted house door.
He doesn't smile at the jib, and it doesn't make him laugh for the first time in days as he gets into the van, it doesn't!
The parking lot of Family Video is empty, but what did he really expect on a Wednesday at half past eight in the evening. 
The Open sign is still on at least but the low lights in the building and the bright copper glare of the sunset make it so much more difficult to see who is working tonight. 
He could just toss the tape into the return slot and wait out the late fees, he's sure another video store will eventually open up in Hawkins, they can take their business there.
Eddie sighs heavily as he shuts off the van and yanks out the key, "dammit Wayne," he mutters under his breath as he gets out and makes his way to the door. 
Eddie winces at the sharp jingle of the bell above the door and looks around, his head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Steve and his big, stupid, hair.
Robin waves from the counter as Eddie spots her, she's grinning at him with a sly look on her face as she leans against the counter, the multiple buttons and pins on her vest clink against the glass surface.
"There he is," Robin crows, drumming the counter, "I was beginning to think Steve had kidnapped you or something, were you allowed out for good behavior?"
She seems to realize what she had just implied and winces, shaking her head as Eddie snorts mirthlessly. 
"Uh, no, I just came to return this for my uncle," Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes level with the counter rather than Robin's eyes. 
She frowns at him, taking the tape he slides across the counter and scanning it without dropping her gaze. 
"What's with you?" She says suspiciously. 
Robin drums her fingers lightly against the counter, as the large computer beeps acknowledging the return.
"Nothing, tired," Eddie shrugs, he's not about to tell Robin about what happened, though it is weird that she doesn't already know? 
Maybe she wasn't in on it, he can't imagine that Buckley would approve of a prank like that on another 'friend of Dorothy' but she was Steve's best friend first and foremost.
A song comes on over the small Family Video speakers, humming in the background. 
'All I wanna do when I wake up in the morning is see your eyes
Rosanna, Rosanna…'
Robin wrinkles her nose, her eyes traveling towards one of the large speakers in the corner before looking back to Eddie, a large grin in place.
"God this sappy shit, I told Steve not to put this one on the tape, you must hate Toto".
Eddie shrugs again, glaring at the floor, wishing he could burn a hole into it that he could escape through. 
"He did play it…didn't he?" Robin asks quietly, a small trace of anxiety in her voice as she leans away from the counter.
Eddie stops himself from rolling his eyes; if he was being honest, the tape was a nice touch --really sold the whole prank, honestly.
He looks back up to find Robin staring at him, and sighs heavily, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah," he huffs, taking a step back towards the front door, Robin's eyes follow his path in confusion, "I wasn't much of a fan of the choices".
"But it's fine right," Eddie scoffs, "he can use his little tape on someone his shit will actually work on next time".
"What?" Robin says incredulously, her face scrunches into a frown as Eddie laughs.
"You know Buckley, I'm surprised you were on board with this?" 
"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?" Robin hisses, shrill and loud, as she finally walks around the counter towards him.
"Oh don't give me that, he's your best friend, you're going to tell me he didn't tell you about his plan?" Eddie shakes his head as a high pitched laugh bubbles up out of his chest.
"I don't know what plan you're talking about Eddie," she says in a low voice, her eyes wide and angry, "the only thing Steve was going to do that night was tell you how he felt about you". 
"Yeah right, Steve Harrington, wants me? And that's not a fucking joke?"
She sucks her teeth, letting her eyes roam over his face, "this was such a mistake, okay, get out". 
Eddie sneers sharply, "a mistake?"
"Yeah, I never should have gotten his hopes up". 
Robin crosses to the window behind the counter and shuts off the second neon open sign before breezing past Eddie to pull the cord on the other sign, nearly hard enough to yank it down. 
No, no, no, no, it's not true, she's just saving face, she has to be…
Robin stands beside the door, a furious glare aimed at Eddie, "we're closed, get out, I need to go check on Steve". 
Unbelievable, Eddie does roll his eyes at this and heads towards her for the door, he takes the push bar in his hands and leans on it to swing the exit open before turning to Robin one last time, he wants so badly to have the last word it hurts.
"Better go check on King-Steve, I'm sure he's devastated," Eddie snarls, the furious fire from before burns bright in his chest as he watches Robin stiffen in the doorway.
"I haven't talked to him since Sunday Munson, until just now, I thought he was with you!"
Robin reaches out to grab both doors in her hands.
"Asshole," she scoffs, her eyes never leaving his as she locks the doors in his face. 
***
1980, Hawkins, Indiana
Eddie sniffles as he walks home, he can feel blood trickle down his chin from the split lip Paul gave him while his knee aches from where he hit the ground. 
He's not even sure what he did.
Paul had been so nice recently, talking with Eddie almost every day, eventually taking him under his wing. Paul was a year above Eddie at their Middle school, and when he had told Eddie to meet him under the bleachers after school, how could Eddie say no? 
It didn't help that Paul had soft blond hair, big hazel eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and the nicest laugh Eddie had ever heard.
What Eddie hadn't been expecting was Randy and David, also in Paul's grade, to be waiting for him. 
He breathes out a wet sob and keeps walking, scrubbing his face harshly as their trailer in Forest Hills comes into view, almost home.
Eddie reaches into his pocket and winces when he realizes his keys are gone, alongside his backpack.
They must have fallen out of his pocket in the scuffle.
The backpack was a different story.
He limps up the steps of their porch, wincing as the fabric of his jeans pulls at the drying blood on his knee, and knocks on the front door.
"Comin," Wayne calls from inside, "coming, wasn't expectin' anyone-- Ed?" 
Wayne's face goes through a series of expressions, from surprise, to anger, before settling on concern. 
He leans down and brings his hands up to Eddie's face, turning it gently to see the damage.
"Who did this," Wayne says quietly, he stands up to his full height, looking around the trailer park behind Eddie while tucking him closer.
"It was at school," Eddie sniffles again, his voice growing tight, "I'm okay". 
Wayne looks down at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving out of the door to pull Eddie inside.
"Hurt anywhere else?" Wayne asks as he walks Eddie to the kitchen, one arm around his shoulder as though afraid the fourteen year old will collapse at any moment.
"I fell, my knee hurts," Eddie mumbles as he sits at the kitchen table in the corner while Wayne crosses to the cabinets and busies himself with grabbing two clean wash clothes and peroxide from the cupboard above their stove.
It's quiet for a moment while Wayne wets one of the clothes at the sink and makes his way back to Eddie.
He kneels on the floor, balancing his weight on his good knee while the other remains bent at a more comfortable ninety degree angle. His joints creak slightly as he gets comfortable but he still smiles at Eddie all the same.
"Won't you be sore after this?" Eddie sighs, wishing Wayne would just let him go to the washroom now to clean himself up. 
"You let me worry about that," Wayne grumbles as he reaches up to wipe the blood and dirt from Eddie's face with the wet cloth. It's warm from the water and Wayne's gentle hand.
"So, you gonna tell me what happened?" Wayne asks softly, as he reaches for the bottle of peroxide and tips it into the second cloth. He tilts Eddie's face to dab gently at the now dirt free cuts.
Eddie sucks his teeth at the sting and closes his eyes.
He doesn't even know where to really start. 
Paul hadn't been the one to push him off his feet, that had been Randy, but that hadn't stopped Paul from laughing and calling Eddie a fairy. 
David had been the one to take his bag, dumping everything out into the dirt and ripping it until the zipper broke. 
Luckily all of his school books were still in his locker, but all of the campaign notes from his most recent D&D game had been in there, along with the worn copy of the Hobbit his mother had given him. 
All of it was still sitting in the mud and grass by the bleachers, stomped into the ground by David's white sneakers.
Eddie shrugs as Wayne leans back slightly. He takes Eddie's leg and slowly bends the knee at the joint, his eyes search Eddies for any sign of strain. The only sting comes from the way the jean material pulls at the drying blood from his scrapes.
Wayne breathes out and scrubs a hand over his tired face, his fingers catch on the grey stubble as they slide down and drop into Wayne's lap.
"I'll make an appointment on Monday with the principal," Wayne says as he stands up with a stifled groan, turning away from Eddie who shakes his head like a wet dog. 
"Wayne you can't--"
"Edward, what do you expect me to do? You come home lookin' like hell and you won't tell me what happened?" 
Eddie bites his split lip hard enough for the faint taste of copper to stain his tongue once more, how could he tell Wayne just what those boys had yelled at him as he sat in the dirt cradling his head, wishing he'd just gone home.
Wayne sighs loudly as he raises his face towards the ceiling, his lips move slightly but Eddie can't make out what he's saying before he looks back at Eddie, his expression worn.
"Okay, okay," Wayne murmurs, walking back towards Eddie, he pulls one of the other mismatched chairs towards himself and sits down, "I won't call, but you have to meet me halfway, alright?" 
Eddie hesitates, swallowing roughly, maybe there was a way to tell Wayne without telling him everything.
"There were some boys at school, um," Eddie picks at one of the holes in his blue jeans, pulling at the frayed thread absently, "I guess just, one at first but…".
His eyes burn suddenly as the words rip through him once again.
"He told me to come to the bleachers and then," Eddie's voice wobbles this time as his throat tightens, "there were more of them and they…called me--" 
Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down to hide his shining eyes, he doesn't notice Wayne coming closer until he feels a hand in his hair and the dam finally breaks.
Six years later, Eddie can still remember what his uncle told him that day as he cried in his arms.
"People can be cruel, especially when they don't understand, and sometimes that means being careful of who you open yourself up to. But you can tell me anything Ed, and I'll love ya no matter what. You always have home to come back to". 
Eddie knew people like Steve Harrington. He'd been around them his whole life. 
Sometimes they went by Paul, sometimes by Jason, or Billy.
But that didn't make them any less dangerous, any less capable of inflicting hurt on people that were different. 
So, Robin could say that Steve wasn't like that until she was blue in the face, because she was…wrong…
Wasn't she?
Taglist: @ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality
Part Three now up!
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inoreuct · 6 months
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it’s 3am and a thought just hit me like a lightning bolt. sanji wearing lipstick and seeing how many kisses he can leave on zoro before zoro notices.
zoro knows he’s being kissed, but he doesn’t know that sanji’s wearing lipstick 😏🤌🏼🤌🏼 PROBABLY A NUDE LIPPIE but he just thinks sanji’s being extra clingy and tolerates it when in fact… he’s covered in lipstick marks. the back of his neck, his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, hell, his lips, his knuckles, literally EVERYWHERE all over his face and neck and throat— there’s one on his shoulder where sanji got particularly adventurous and he’s getting pissed off because nami and usopp are giggling like fools and sanji looks way too smug to be washing dishes. he’s got the whole lipstick-on-collar thing going on and he doesn’t even know, poor man.
ALTERNATIVELY. he knows he has lipstick everywhere. he humours sanji and just doesn’t bother to wipe it off.
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jstodd · 9 days
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would love if jason had gone back to kill the penguin after the beating and claimed double jeopardy when bruce sought him out for it
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bluegiragi · 1 year
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Complicated - Ghost/Soap [FIC]
[AN: I don't usually write fics and this definitely won't become a trend, but I had a major brainworm today and had to get it down on the page.
Relevant content tags: miscommunication, mutual pining, ghost being an idiot, angst angst ANGST IF THIS DOESN'T HURT THEN I DIDN'T DO A GOOD ENOUGH JOB.]
ghostsoap but where simon, hurt by a history of shitty relationships and the residual trauma of watching his father destroy his mother, sabotages his own relationship with soap out of fear, terrified by how strongly he feels for the man.
--
He ends it just as it's supposed to start. 
It's a mistake from the beginning, a culmination of adrenaline running high after a job well done, just the slightest buzz of alcohol and Johnny's voice in his ear the entire night. It has him running hot, running stupid, but all he can think of in the moment is how good it feels to kiss Soap so hard it hurts. They tumble into Soap's room in a mess of limbs and he shoves Soap down onto his bed, gets his mouth on him, his hand on him and the sounds he makes, fuck, the feeling of his hands in his hair as he presses his teeth into the curve of his ass-
it's so good that it's heady, makes him more delirious than a fully stocked bar could and he's stuck in the haze of Johnny, Johnny, Johnny and it's only when he hears how he moan his name ("Si, oh fuck - Simon!) as he cums that he realises-
-he loves him.
the realisation opens up a pit in his stomach. it's like someone just dropped him into an ice bath and suddenly he's seeing this in all it's naked, horrifying glory. how he's in his own sergeant's bed, how Soap is petting at his face, almost sleepily, dazed, sated, smiling at him like he's hung the fucking moon and stars and fuck. Fuck.
Ghost shoots to his feet so fast it's almost comical, methodically striding over to where he discarded his clothes when he stumbled into the room (when he wasn't thinking) to drag on his pants, his shirt, his fucking mask (goddamnit). Soap watches him from the bed, his eyebrows lifted in a half-amused half-confused quirk.
"Where you off to?"
"Back to my room."
"Y'know, most people like to linger after they do the deed. Bask in the afterglow." 
Soap stands to cross the room and Ghost almost swears. He can't find his boots.
"You have done this before, right L.T?" Soap says it to tease, but a hint of sincerity creeps in, a tentative olive branch in face of whatever thing he must think Ghost is doing.
"I'm not a blushing virgin if that's what you're asking."
"It's not. I'm asking about your history."
Ghost freezes. The pit in his stomach widens into a black fucking hole. 
"...I have one."
Soap whistles. Ghost, having finally caught sight of his remaining boot, yanks it on almost fast enough to tear through the sole. 
"That bad huh? What happened?"
"Things got complicated."
"And this - this isn't complicated?" Soap asks with a smile. Ghost stares at him for a moment, as the dawning reality of his situation sinks its claws into him. It is. God, it might just be the most complicated things have ever been for him. Fucking hell.
Ghost turns away, does up his laces and gets to his feet.
"Not yet."
"Yet? What's that supposed to mean?" A hint of defensiveness is starting to creep into Soap's voice. Ghost needs to get out of here before that hint burrows under his skin and convinces him to do something idiotic, like get back into bed with the (still naked) man who he just realised he's in too deep with.
"Nothing. See you topside." is all he says as he takes a step towards the door, and then suddenly Soap is there, blocking his view and his stride with a hand on his chest.
"Simon, what's wrong? You're...something's up." he says, and the clench of his heart at the sound of his concern has Ghost gritting his teeth.
"What, because I don't want to spend the night?" 
"The fuck?" Soap laughs out, almost incredulous. "I didn't say that, I j-just -" he stutters, Ghost's mind almost coos and he wants to rip that voice out of his head and suffocate it under a pillow. "What is wrong with you? We fuck once and now I'm chopped liver?"
Johnny stares at him, a crease deepening between his eyebrows, a slight lift to his lips like he's wanting this to be a joke, something in passing, not what he's beginning to understand it is. And the fear, the anger, at Johnny for making him feel this way, for overcomplicating things, at himself for letting him in - it spills out like something poisonous in Ghost's throat, black and putrid and smelling like his father's breath on his worst nights. 
Ghost fixes him with a glare. 
"Is it really so impossible for you to understand this meant more to you than it did to me, Sergeant?"
He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth but they're out there. Hanging in the air, frozen. Soap stares at him, unmoving.
"...What?" he says in a rasp like in that moment he's giving him a chance to take it back. But Ghost's throat is closed up with something thick and the moment passes and Johnny's expression shutters, eyes blinking, his lips curling up into a wry mirthless grin. He shakes his head at the floor, a hollow laugh jerking out of his chest.
"Alright then," he mutters almost too quiet to hear and then he looks back up at Ghost and the smile falls. "Get out."
"Soap-"
"Get the fuck out." 
Ghost is more or less shoved into the corridor and the door slams behind him with a jarring finality. The silence that falls afterwards feels emptier somehow and for a second, he considers going back inside. Knocking at the door, begging Johnny to let him in, apologising, saying it was all a mistake. Saying that he loved him.
But he doesn't. He hasn't got the parts to do this right. He knows that. His father knew it. Every relationship he's ever had knew it, knew there wasn't enough material to build anything in the pit that was Simon Riley. Staying, giving either of them hope, letting this thing fester into something he'd have to watch die one day -
- this was a mercy. Soap would find someone better. He'd understand in the end.
Simon walks back to his room.
--
Inside, Soap waits until he can't hear Ghost's footsteps anymore before he slides down the length of the door and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. His stupid, burning eyes.
"Stupid," he hisses quietly to himself. "You stupid, fucking idiot."
--
The next day they're called into a briefing and run into each other in the hall. It's tense. Ghost stares down at the circles under Soap's eyes, how those baby blues widen then flatten into something (colder, his thoughts unhelpfully supply) simpler.
"Sergeant," Ghost says in acknowledgement. Business like always. They've always worked well together. After this passes, after Soap...recovers from whatever shit got into his head that Simon fucking Riley was worth any part of him -
"Lieutenant."
Soap's eyes flick away, forward, and he brushes past him into the briefing room, leaving Ghost standing out in the hallway. 'Lieutenant'. It's his title, there shouldn't be anymore to it. But -
"Let's get ourselves a win yeah, L.T?"
There's something tight in his chest. Ghost clenches his jaw.
When he walks inside the room, Soap is far over on the right side, sitting next to Gaz, chatting animatedly. He doesn't pause when Ghost walks past, doesn't even look as he settles into his seat. Price shoots him a glance from the front. Ghost stares resolutely ahead.
--
"What the fuck did you do, Simon? Shit in his breakfast?" Price levels an accusatory stare his way once they're alone in his office and instinctively, Ghost bristles. And then the look on Soap's face last night comes back to him, the rasp of his "...What?". That last chance he didn't take.
He deflates, and pours himself a glass of the whiskey sitting on top of his captain's desk.
"I ended something before it could start."
Price's eyes soften, almost imperceptibly.
"Oh, son. You didn't."
"It's for both our sakes," Ghost says with a finality, and downs the glass in one go.
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a-cabin-in-midgard · 4 months
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When I decorated the streets with corpses and dreamed in red, we shared a single dance on one black night.
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emlovessid · 5 months
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@jegulus-microfic october 30, frighten, 110 words
“I know killing your brother-in-law is frowned upon, but if there’s another jump scare in this, I might kill Remus.”
They’ve been sucked into watching a new series that Remus recommended the last time they caught up for dinner; what Remus had failed to mention was how damn terrifying it was. James doesn’t frighten easily, but even he’s on edge watching it.
James laughs, “Frowned upon is probably not the right word for it, love. I think what you’re looking for is illegal.”
“Semantics,” Regulus grumbles, pressing play on the next episode.
Before the episode has even finished, James has sent off a text to Sirius: Take Remus and run.
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oozins · 2 years
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desire, which you hate me for
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ninety-two-bees · 9 days
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here’s some happy-ish/hopeful inertia wolfstar to make up for the fact i still haven’t updated the fic
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mosaickiwi · 4 days
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Fall Unto Me (part two)
Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.
cw// religious themes
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.
You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.
Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.
So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.
“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon. 
You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.
“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.
You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”
“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"
The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.
Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.
“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.
“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall. 
Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.
You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.
Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek. 
A dull ache began in your back. 
You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.
Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you. 
“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.
Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”
“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.
It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.
Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.
The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason. 
Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.
The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.
You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.
He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.
Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.
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sugarsnappeases · 1 month
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thank you for the tag @fxreflyes this is so cute, except the format is trying to hinder my propensity to ramble, so i’ve rectified this in the tags lmao
i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child
no pressure tags for @static-radio-ao3 @inevitablestars @itsjaywalkers @carniferous @orbitfalls @transsexualpriest @futurequibblerjournalist <333
#i'm like 5'7 i think. fun fact i used to wear glasses when i was like 11 bc all my friends were getting glasses and i wanted some too so i#lied to my optician. lol good times. don't actually need glasses tho soooo.#this is me coming out as a natural blonde guys….. like my hair hasn’t been blonde in a good year or so and it hasn’t been my natural blonde#in like three/four years but still in my heart of hearts i identify as a blonde. like i get confused when people don't count me as one#i have my ears and nose pierced and i would love a tattoo but unfortunately i have both a fear of needles and commitment issues so.#not sure if that’ll ever happen… would be very hot and sexy tho. also i'm one of those freaks with green eyes lol it's appaza quite rare#my hair is currently like dark dark brown… have been getting the itch to dye it again tho like a kinda reddish colour idk yet we’ll see#i had braces for AAGES. i have freckles in the summer and i paint my nails whenever i remember to. rn they’re a very chipped lilac colour#i think i have a resting bitch face but i can never tell tbf like it might be more of a resting 'dead to the world' face lmao#okay technically i don’t play an instrument anymore! but in the past i’ve dabbled with the cello the oboe and the xylophone. singing too#spanish and italian baybee although ig if this means like fluently then that’s not me but this is literally my degree it’s my whole brand#yes i like to read but also the only things ive read in like the last few months have been either books in spanish/italian for my degree#literary criticism for said span/ital books and… fanfic. so. also i like writing but it's my worst enemy rn the thoughts aren't working :(#i have many best friends that i’ve known for years!!!! in fact i've known some of my friends for like my entire life it's very cute#okay sorry for rambling i can never help myself and i also literally could go on icl like there was Some restraint applied here#kara lore#bc there's quite a lot of it in this one lol#tag games
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mustangs-flames · 5 months
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start of the chapter 7 draft for Good Samaritan is going great you guys
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oohbuggypie · 9 days
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i 4got i made an AO3 account so i could give kudos and comment .. but now im lowk considering maybe posting the Glass Joe and Don Flamenco AU writing there ?? IDKK i fear flopping a little tew much for my own good which is bad cuz i have to remember it doesn't HAVE to be about consuming, it just has to be about sharing and putting love into what im passionate about 🩷 hmm
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proxissima · 10 months
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Over and Done With
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An excerpt from All but One by @aconstantstateofbladerunner... aka the fic with the rawest non-villain version of All Might I've personally had the pleasure of reading so far.
~~~~~
All for One’s ugly mug gazed confidently out the mansion’s floor-to-ceiling window like the untouchable god he thought he was for far too long.  Then he turned around, and sealed his fate.  The greatest villain Japan had ever known’s skull was no tougher than the glass Toshinori burst through compared to the raw force of One for All. 
He went flying, but steadied himself mid-air with some quirk.  “S-so,” he hacked.  “You must be the new pe-“
Toshinori caught the monster’s chin with a right hook.  Then he grabbed with the left. 
He crushed the jaw until it was practically liquid, then yanked what was left clean off.  All for One screamed, raw and unfiltered. 
An energy pulse pushed Toshinori back.  Some lackeys tried to come at him.  Toshinori backhanded a windblast that imbedded them in the walls.
All for One attempted hover away down the hall.  Every piece of glass in the room shattered with the force of Toshinori’s leap.  He went for the neck.  The bastard under his bloodied hands hacked fire and bile.  Shapes and shadows of a quirk danced at the corners of Toshinori’s vision.  Another slam into the floor cut it off.  He grabbed his hair-
Curly.  Dark.  No!
He grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it off before digging the same fist deeper into his brains.  The marble floor cratered.  A sudden electrical shock loosened Toshinori’s grip just enough for All for One to force-jump away.  But he didn’t get far.  Toshinori was on him before he could even stumble.  He slammed his heel into the beast’s back; his spine snapped like a twig.  Gurgled wails almost drowned out the satisfying sound.
The floor collapsed and they fell into a kitchen.  More lackeys.  More hurricane-force winds.
All for One managed to flip himself over somewhat in the meantime.  He hurled some sort of metal spine.  Toshinori slapped it to the side.  A flurry of smaller spikes was blown away with a snap of his fingers.  He leapt over a fissure in the ground like he was jumping a puddle.  And he landed on the bastard’s knees.
Then Toshinori paused.  Ice crept into his veins.  Here was the man whose existence tormented him almost all his life. 
Jawless. 
The orchestrator behind thousands upon thousands of torturous crimes against humanity.
Head deflated.
The man who murdered my mother.
One eye dangling from its socket.
But there, under his remaining eye, was something Toshinori hadn’t ever noticed in their encounters.  Few and faded, but undeniably there.  Freckles.
The father of the greatest light of my life…
Toshinori hit him harder.  What was left of a face disappeared behind two falling fists.  He pulled back.  The walls around them were starting to melt.  All for One dug his nails into Toshinori’s costume while his skin spasmed, desperately trying to activate the right quirk.  Displaced teeth poked out of a gurgling bloody mass.  He hit him again.  And again.  And again.
All for One stopped swinging his arms at some point.  Toshinori wasn’t falling for that again.  His heel plunged into the monster’s chest, squishing and crunching organs beneath.  He didn’t let up until he was sloshing in a puddle.  Even then, it wasn’t over until all was still. 
So he waited, hovering over what was only a corpse in theory.  Long enough that blood on his face that wasn’t his cooled and crusted.  It was over far before Toshinori accepted it.  He couldn’t accept it.  It happened too fast.  There was a whole strategy ready to go.  He was going to trick him.  Use One for All in one part of his body at a time like Izuku did.  But the bastard just wouldn’t move.  No way it would be that easy.
And yet…
The investigators had to scrape up what was left into a bin. 
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baronessblixen · 5 months
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First I couldn't focus on work because of a migraine. Now that I've taken something for it, I can't focus cause I feel sick. And the migraine is still there, too.
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sairee · 6 months
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The invitation (Ghost x Soap)
Soap invites Ghost to join his family for Christmas. But Ghost isn't so sure.
Chapter 35 excerpt from Don't Let Me Go.
They’d just finished up and were catching their breath in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. After a few minutes, Soap stood up and dragged his pants back on. He picked up Ghost’s clothes and tossed them to him which Ghost caught with one hand and they both slipped them on.
Once Soap was done, he turned to look at Ghost sincerely, a dumb smile slowly spreading over his lips.
“What is it?” Ghost asked, moving forward to sit on the edge of the bed.
Soap looked down at the ground briefly then met Ghost’s eyes again.
“Want to come home with me for Christmas?”
The question lingered in the air between them although it shouldn’t have surprised Ghost – that morning Price had gotten intel that their target was lying low and trying to figure out his next moves.
As a result, Price had given them the upcoming week off for Christmas. Well, they were technically “on call” were something to come up but that seemed unlikely.
Still, it was unexpected actually hearing the words. Ghost figured he would stay at the base for another Christmas like he did every year. It was so normal now that the thought of not doing it hadn’t crossed his mind. No one had ever invited him to join them before. He used to find the peace and quiet of the base relaxing. Sometimes he would sneak away and travel to the nearest city or country.
The words churned in his mind.
Uncertainty started to form a pit in his stomach. He wanted to be with Soap – of course he wanted to be with Soap – but he was laced with reservation.
He wasn’t very good at socializing. He wasn’t personable. He wasn’t good at first impressions. He couldn’t do small talk. He felt that meeting Soap’s family would only reveal these lacking parts of him for everyone else to see and judge. He didn’t think his fucked-up brain could make him normal or likeable in any regular sense.
And the circumstances in which Ghost and Soap were together were certainly not normal.
Soap could sense Ghost’s hesitation.
“Tell me what you’re thinking…” he asked tenderly.
Ghost looked down at his hands. “I’m not sure I’d make a good impression…” he said quietly.
“Nonsense,” Soap said confidently. “I know my family will adore you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Soap stepped closer and placed a gentle finger underneath Ghost’s chin. He pulled it up so Ghost was looking into Soap’s eyes again. Soap leaned down.
“Because I do…”
He pressed their lips together sweetly as Ghost immediately melted into the touch. He kissed back softly.
After a few slow seconds, they broke apart again which made Ghost long for his touch again. Still, doubt swirled through his mind.
“I don’t know…” Ghost replied. “I think it might be best if I just stay at the base.”
A flicker of disappointment flashed across Soap’s eyes, making Ghost feel like he had been punched in the gut. Soap’s smile wavered for a second before returning once again, bright as ever. He looked down at Ghost sweetly.
“Okay,” he said, “but if you change your mind, you’re more than welcome to join me. I want you to know that I do want you there.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” Soap said, straightening up. He looked around the room for a second as if remembering something. He then looked down at his watch. “It’s almost dinner time. We should head over.”
As Ghost followed Soap down to the mess hall, he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he had made the right decision.
Full chapter ao3.
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