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#Fic snippet
wikiangela · 2 days
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tease tidbit tuesday
tagged by @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz 💖
more bucktommy the will talk (they're getting there, the conversation went a bit off track lol) - it might be done this week, and then I can focus on the smut, and the buddie fics, and I have a new bucktommy idea inspired by that video of lou barbecuing with his shirt off that I sooo wanna write🙈
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“Well, yeah, of course.” Buck answers easily, his heartbeat speeding up. He’s a little anxious about putting too much pressure, too many expectations out there, but he also knows that even if he did, they’d get back on track, they’d be fine. And besides, Tommy’s smiling, he doesn’t seem freaked out at all. And that’s after Buck brought up children. But if they’re moving forward with their relationship, they need to know what they want out of life. It seems reasonable to have this conversation this early on.
“Good.” he responds, grinning widely. “Now I won't have to stress about your answer when I ask.” he adds, and Buck feels himself blush, butterflies in his stomach going wild. Oh. Oh. This is- this is real. They’re talking about it, and maybe someday soon- he might marry this man. He will marry this man. Tommy wants him forever. Tommy wants him. Tommy wants to marry him and have children with him, and just be with him. Sometimes it’s still so shocking to Buck that someone as great and amazing as Tommy wants him, but he does. Buck’s not sure he remembers the last time he felt this wanted.
“How- how do you know I won’t ask first?” Buck asks, moving his head slightly closer to Tommy, just enough to look into his beautiful blue eyes. It feels surreal, talking about this, when they only dated for a few months, but it also feels… right. It feels like they’re on the right track to get there one day.
___
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @diazsdimples
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Voldemort’s having his evening cuppa when he feels it. The initial, tentative presses against his mental shields soon grow in confidence and enthusiasm, as though Potter’s mind is throwing itself up against the barriers. Like a light-drunk moth thudding into the glass walls of an illuminated lantern.
This time, when he shoves the boy back to his own mind, Voldemort follows him through in hopes of figuring out what the hell is going on.
It’s a disorienting experience even beyond the usual strangeness of inhabiting someone else’s mind. The sense of confused mortification is almost overwhelming, but it doesn’t fully disguise the cloying film of infatuation overlaying Potter’s mindscape.
When he looks out through Potter’s eyes, he sees a teenage girl looking back at him, frustration plain on her face. While he refuses to be lumped in with the rabble, it’s nice to know Potter vexes other people, too.
And then he hears what Potter’s saying.
“...his eyes are just so red, you know? Like, blood. Or Gryffindor house colours. Maybe overripe tomatoes? But yeah, really red. And he’s so,” deep, besotted sigh, “skeletal. I never knew I had a thing for corpses, but he really pulls the look off somehow.”
Potter is waxing poetic – poorly – about Voldemort.
“And he knows so much and is so powerful! And so determined – he keeps trying to kill me even when he always fails.”
Ouch.
“I just, I think he’s wonderful,” Potter gushes, before his tone turns insecure. “Do you think I have a chance?”
The girl stares at him incredulously. “To be honest, Harry, no. I don’t think You-Know-Who likes you that way. Or at all,” she states baldly, before attempting to play the coquette, twirling some hair around her finger. “But don’t worry, I’ll like you enough to make up for it.” 
Potter’s eyes fill with tears. “He doesn’t… like me?”
The girl’s face contorts into a scowl and she stomps away from Potter, muttering about useless potions. The boy hiccups a small, pathetic sob.
He’s seen enough. Voldemort removes himself from Potter’s mind as quickly as possible.
(coriander)
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naffeclipse · 1 day
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Last Line Challenge
Rules - In a new post, show the last lines you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many as you like.)
Thank you for the tag @muzzlemouths
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Snow Monkey Sun my beloved
I don't have any energy to tag that many people right now, so please do it if you'd like!
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Every once in a while, Bright Eyes returns to me like a hungry stray cat who's in desperate need of some loving. And since I still have some thoughts about how William does things during the Summit, I might as well do something about it.
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lizardlicks · 8 months
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a scene that presented itself to me with very little context:
Sokka is trying and failing to light a fire inside this chaos. At first it was a little funny, but the longer Sokka goes without successfully producing a spark with his stupid little rocks, the more frustrated Zuko becomes watching him. He could do this in his sleep. A baby could have sneezed and lit the fire by now.
Click
“Make the Avatar stop playing with his stupid monkey and light it.”
Click “First of all, Momo is a Lemur. Second: Aang can’t firebend, and third: fuck you.”
Click, click
“Oh for Agni’s sake, then untie me and I’ll do it!” “No. See again: fuck you.”
Click, click, click
Zuko has had enough. He scoots forward and leans over Sokka’s bundle of (he notes slightly damp-- no wonder the boy is struggling) kindling and fills his chest, forcing the air deep into his lungs. He’s only seen Uncle do this once, but Zuko had already learned the basics of the technique. Standard firebending involved stoking his inner fire with the correct breathing, then letting it flow with the movement of his limbs, down his chi paths, and out as visible bursts. Uncle had shown him how to hold that energy, feeding it through the pathways in a looping circuit that warmed him through. But where breath came in it also flowed out, and where chi could flow-- “What are you--” Sokka starts to ask, leaning back away from the prince crowding into his space. With no other warning, Zuko opens his mouth. And fire pours out. Sokka throws himself away from the flames with a yelp, but they don’t go any further than the sad pile of wood he had been failing to light. “Aaaah! How-- What-- You can breathe that!?”
Zuko sits back with a satisfied huff, tries unsuccessfully to shake off the sweat that’s beaded on his forehead. “Apparently.”
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nemaliwrites · 17 days
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have a lil snippet from the bodyswap fic hehe
“Sorry,” Marinette mutters, spinning back around in her chair to face him. “It’s just…”
“I get it,” says Plagg. “You’re finally in Loverboy’s room, and you want all the super secret dirt on him, right?”
“I’m in his body,” she points out. “How much more dirt can there be?”
“Hey, my lips are sealed. You’ll never break me — unless it happens to be with a particularly well aged block of camembert, of course.”
Marinette rolls her eyes, but try as she might, she can’t get back to work. So she sits back in her chair and considers Plagg.
“Is it…is it really this bad?” she asks.
Plagg loses his air of joking, lowering his tone to match hers. “Worse, sometimes,” he says, “but getting the kid to talk about it is like walking on broken glass. Man, is he determined to keep smiling.”
She blinks at him. “Isn’t…isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not always,” says Plagg. “Sometimes, the longer you keep smiling, the more you forget what your face is really supposed to look like.”
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munsonkitten · 8 months
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“Can I tell you something?” Steve whispers, tugging Eddie in closer to his body.
Eddie hums in response, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. “Sure, baby.”
“You know how we got you out of the Upside Down and brought you back here?” Steve asks. He rubs his hands up and down Eddie’s back, and continues without waiting for an answer. “I carried you up to the bathtub in my parents’ bathroom, got your pants off, and you were covered in so much blood, and I was already fighting off an infection myself, so I wasn’t all there, and I honestly… Man, I honestly thought the bats ate your dick and that I’d have to break the news.”
Eddie snorts, a quiet laugh pressed to Steve’s skin.
“Then you said to me, and you were half-conscious and kind of delirious, you said ‘if you wanna look at my pussy, at least buy me dinner first,’” Steve whispers. “Figured maybe it was fine, then.”
“Wait,” Eddie says, pulling back. “Is that why you always brought food when you started coming over?”
Steve laughs, then shakes his head. Quietly, he answers, “Nah, man, that was because you lost like forty pounds from not eating.”
“Well, that’s not as fun,” Eddie huffs. “Can we pretend you’ve just been trying to catch a glimpse ever since?”
“Sure,” Steve whispers. “I mean, not that I wasn’t trying to catch another glimpse, I mean that much is pretty obvious at this point, but, nah. I was just worried you weren’t eating enough.”
Eddie hums again and rolls over onto his back. “I don’t remember much. Being here, I mean. I just… I mean, I have bits and pieces, but then I remember waking up in the hospital with Wayne next to my bed. I didn’t think that was real, to be honest.”
“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, it, uh… I tried taking care of you, and after I kinda put the pieces together, I wasn’t gonna let anyone else see you or touch you, I mean, I kind of knew what it meant, you know, to be transsexual, and I didn’t know everything, but I figured it was enough that I found out without your permission. I mean, I think about… Never mind, just… Yeah, so I tried taking care of you, but, like I said, I was sick, too. I think, um, it was Nancy… She kind of found us half-dead in my bed after not hearing from us for a couple days. She got in contact with Wayne, got us both to the hospital. You were there longer than me.”
“Does Nancy know?” Eddie whispers. “I mean, we talk a lot, and she’s never… She’s never mentioned it, but would she if she did?”
“She doesn’t know, baby. As far as I know, she doesn’t. I’m telling you, man, I didn’t let anyone else see you for days. I was…”
“My guard dog, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve chuckles.
“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Should give you a treat.”
Steve smiles, presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “I’ve got it already.”
“Fuck off,” Eddie mumbles. “You can’t break out the Harrington charm right now.”
“Why not?” Steve asks.
“Because I’m gonna need to fuck you again for that and I don’t think I can move.”
Steve laughs and curls himself around Eddie. “Alright, I’ll cool it with the charm, then.”
They both sleep soundly that night, but Steve finds himself thinking about all of those complicated things before he drifts off, and again when he wakes up in the morning, as he watches Eddie fix his hair and slide on his rings over painted nails.
from chapter 5 of “you make me feel like i am whole again” on ao3
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linecrosser · 2 months
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Febwhump 2024 - Day 16 - Come back wrong
Inspired by a Fic-Snippet, courtesy of @grubus! (Go check their writing out, it's truly epic!)
Situation: SQQ never got that fake plant body, but instead somehow ends up back in a body that's half-dead and needs daily qi-transfusions from LBH to avoid going full corpse-like again
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Shen Qingqiu woke up dead.
There was relief in this. He laid upon a soft bed and he did not breathe. He laid there, feeling how his heart beat sluggishly in his chest.
He had died.
Shen Qingqiu stared at the ceiling above. He did not recognize it. It was vaulted and covered in art, gold lining it in a very expensive way. He did not blink, for his eyes did not dry. Slowly, very slowly, he wrinkled his nose.
“I’m dead,” he said, and there was a loud crash.
He turned his head to look. There was more bed at first, enough that he could stretch out one arm and not reach the end of it. He stared and stared until Luo Binghe sat up from the floor, hair a mess and his eyes wide as he stared at Shen Qingqiu.
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe breathed.
“Binghe,” he greeted, and he knew that he should be afraid. He was dead, after all, because he had died. He had made his core explode in order to help Luo Binghe avoid qi deviation.
But his heart was slow. He couldn’t be afraid.
~
It had been exactly three years since he died.
He found this out after many tears had been spilled, soaking his robes. Shen Qingqiu was aware that he should be able to feel that, and he did. But the sensation was muted, the way it felt when one pressed a hand against the dry side of a rain stained window. It was wet and it was not.
He petted Binghe’s fluffy head and felt muted softness.
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zarasu · 3 months
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I've been awfully distracted from conquer by writing on my abyss demon!sy bingyuan au. Have a snippet! Binghe and Shen Yuan reunite at Huan Hua.
---
His first reaction to seeing Shen Yuan at Huan Hua Palace was rage, thinly veiling fear.
Shen Yuan was the seduction he had fled from, finally catching back up to him. He was the blissful oasis, coming to distract him from his goals. He was the promise of comfort and belonging, hovering at the edge of everything happening to make Binghe lose sight of what was important.
There he was, bowing before the Old Palace Master, this unassuming, soft little man. There was no sign, now, of his dark mana that used to surround him at all times, no playful tendrils curling around Binghe's ankles, no extra mouths, eyes or sharp teeth.
He looked like a normal, harmless young cultivator and Binghe wondered how he had managed to gain control of his nature so quickly, when control seemed to be far away just a year and a half ago.
The only thing that didn't seem to have changed was how quickly Shen Yuan sensed his presence.
Black eyes found him under the cover of long eyelashes and Binghe hated how quickly his body sprung to attention in response, awareness coursing through him like crackling electricity.
He wondered if Shen Yuan knew how he commanded his body, even after all this time.
Sensing his distraction, the Old Palace Master followed Shen Yuan's glance until he saw Binghe standing at the entrance.
"Ah, Binghe," he called, intentionally informal, possessive indulgence in his eyes. He reached out, beckoning, and Binghe came closer until the Old Palace Master could put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
With close interest, Binghe watched as Shen Yuan's hand twitched at his side.
He got his first good look at the scene now. Shen Yuan was in simple cultivator's robes and there was a large, dead beast laid at the palace master's feet. A winged lioness. A rare catch, outside of the abyss, and a deadly one too. Many cultivators would naively go for the males, desiring their golden mane, and disregarding the infinitely more dangerous female lions. That Shen Yuan had not only managed to kill one but came out of the fight seemingly completely unharmed spoke of his power and competence.
And the Old Palace Master knew it.
Slowly, Binghe started to understand what was happening before him. Shen Yuan was trying to get into Huan Hua. He was trying to bait the Old Palace Master into keeping him here and, going by the greedy shine in the old man's eyes, it was working.
"Binghe," Shen Yuan said then, unexpectedly. "It's good to see you well."
He shook off his momentary surprise. Binghe wasn't sure why he had thought they would pretend not to know each other, but obviously Shen Yuan had had other plans.
Before he could reply, the Old Palace Master interjected. "Master Shen knows our Binghe?"
Shen Yuan's face grew a little stiff, but Binghe finally found his voice. "Shen Yuan. I didn't expect to see you here." There was a moment of silence before he added: "I'm glad to see you too."
Where had his eloquency gone? He felt like a bumbling youth, all talk and nothing behind it. He quickly turned to the Old Palace Master. "We met on my travels. Shen Yuan saved me from a situation that would have otherwise ended very badly for me. I owe him my life."
Maybe Shen Yuan hadn't been so sure of his welcome after all, going by the way his stiff expression was replaced by surprised pleasure. "Anyone would have done what I did."
Binghe felt the sudden, desperate urge to laugh.
"Well, any friend of Binghe's is a friend of Huan Hua," the Old Palace Master said. "Of course, Master Shen is welcome to stay for as long as it pleases him." He looked like he had just added two profitable, fat cows to his stables instead of inviting two wolves into his flock of sheep.
Shen Yuan bowed, his eyes flicking away from where the Old Palace Master still had his hand on Binghe's arm. "This one is grateful for the palace master's generosity."
"I will have a servant take care of your gift so that we can display the hide soon. Come, Shen Yuan, I'm sure we can find a room for you." He put his other hand on Shen Yuan's shoulder and pulled both of them to the door, deeper into the palace.
Hidden by the way they were walking ahead of the palace master, Shen Yuan turned his face to Binghe just the slightest bit. As soon as their eyes met, Shen Yuan's mouth curled up into a sly fox's smile.
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youcouldmakealife · 6 days
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KS Fill: Mike/Liam; happy place
For the always welcome prompt: Anything where Mike and Liam are happy
Teensy bit NSFW because, well, it's Mike and Liam.
The kitchen’s always been Mike’s favourite room of the house.
Well, Liam would like to think it’s his second favourite room, but it probably isn’t. It’s not like they keep shit confined to the bedroom or anything anyway. There isn’t a surface in this house that Liam hasn’t gotten bent over at some point, though Mike was very, very thorough about disinfecting the kitchen counter after. Totally anal about it.
“Why are you snickering to yourself,” Mike says.
It doesn’t even come out suspicious, he’s gotten into such a rhythm cutting little stars out of a sheet of cookie dough. He probably wouldn’t admit this even to himself, but while Mike may like to cook, he loves to bake. Only ever does it for others, though, like the baking itself isn’t unmanly but eating the results is.
That means Liam usually only gets to sample his baking one filched cookie at a time, which is bullshit. But also, probably good for his career. Mike’s just as good at baking as he is at cooking. Possibly even better, but Liam’s got a sweet tooth, so he’s probably biased.
“Liam,” Mike says, and Liam realises he hasn’t bothered to answer.
“Thought of a sex joke,” Liam says.
Mike snorts. “Of course you did,” he says. “Do I want to hear it?”
“You always do,” Liam says. Mike secretly thinks he’s hilarious.
“Go ahead,” Mike says, trying and failing to sound long-suffering. Cutting little stars is clearly his happy place. Liam’s going to go completely nuts online later buying cookie cutters. He wonders if they have little skulls and crossbones or rockets or something. Maybe Mike will let them keep a batch of cookies if they’re badass enough. Probably not, but a man can hope.
“Remember how we fucked in the kitchen?” Liam asks.
“Which time?” Mike asks.
Liam waves a hand. “Irrelevant to the joke.”
“Okay,” Mike says. “Yes, I remember.”
“So I was thinking about how you were, you know, super thorough cleaning the counters off after?” Liam asks.
“I prepare food on these counters,” Mike says. “They need to be—“
“Not saying you shouldn’t have been,” Liam says. “Just, you know. That was kind of anal of you.”
Mike doesn’t stop himself from snorting in time. “That was bad,” he says, a second too late. “Completely juvenile.”
“I know,” Liam says cheerfully. Made Mike snort, though, so what does that say about him?
Mike looks down at his handiwork, a sea of stars across the baking sheet, enough for every member of the roster.
“You’re making two batches, right?” Liam asks. It’s just the team for this one, no significant others or kids, so technically only one batch is needed, but one per person doesn’t work out well. There are thieves on that team. He should know: he’s one of them.
“Three,” Mike says. “Make sure there’s enough for the support staff.”
Once again, Mike is going to be the most popular person at the team Christmas party. Third straight year. Liam thinks they should make him a trophy or something.
“Can we decorate them to be North Stars?” Liam asks. “Or is that not Christmassy enough?”
“Why do you think I picked stars, Fitzgerald?” Mike asks, and Liam grins at him. “Why don’t you make yourself useful, find the green food colouring for me?”
Liam has no idea where the fuck it would be, but he has eyes and hands and enthusiasm, and the full awareness that Mike will gripe at him from across the room like a backseat searcher until he locates it.
“Why would it be in there?” Mike asks, as Liam opens the cupboards, and Liam grins at the mixing bowls. The griping’s already begun.
“Baking stuff,” Liam says.
Mike sighs, and Liam moves one over.
“Liam,” he says, and Liam grins wider. “Really?”
“Tell me where to go, and I’m there,” Liam says, but instead Mike pins him against the counter, basically surrounding him. Liam leans back into him, closes his eyes when Mike wraps an arm around his chest, brushes his lips against Liam’s temple, the kind of thing he’d deny was a kiss if asked. ‘What? Kiss you? My mouth just happened to be in the area, don’t flatter yourself’.
Liam tilts his head up, and he gets a proper kiss for that, though Mike pulls away just as he’s starting to get a crick in his neck. He always seems to know, somehow.
Mike presses another not-kiss to his cheekbone, then smacks his ass. “Go find me the food colouring,” he says.
It takes ten minutes, and Mike almost throws the cookie cutter at him, but eventually Liam locates it.
“Can I help make the frosting?” he asks.
“You just want to lick the beaters,” Mike says, but he doesn’t say no.
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transingthoseformers · 6 months
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Ignore Prowl I think you two should do it
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wikiangela · 1 day
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wip wednesday
tagged by @tizniz 💖
more of the will talk fic bc they're finally talking about it and this is so close to being done! (hopefully🤞 as always it's getting longer than expected haha)
prev snippet
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"(...) He- he didn’t even tell me until like a year later, when he-” Buck takes a sharp breath, an even more unpleasant memory replacing the previous one. Suddenly he can feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and the rough asphalt scraping his hands, and he needs to take a deep breath. Tommy tightens his arm around him, maybe he can feel Buck tensing up, can sense that whatever he's about to say is upsetting. “After he got shot.” Buck finally whispers.
“You know,” Tommy starts, his tone bright and casual but gentle, clearly wanting to lighten the mood, always just knowing what Buck needs, and Buck’s so grateful. He doesn’t want to talk about all those traumatic things now, that’s a whole other topic, that they scratched the surface of already, and soon they’d go deeper, but not today. Today it’s just for context for the other important conversation they’re having. “I’m starting to think I lucked out that I left the 118. You guys seem to be cursed or something.” he teases, pressing a gentle kiss to Buck’s temple, and an easy, breathy laugh bubbles out of Buck, tension leaving his body, as he melts against his boyfriend.
___
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck
@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life
@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck
@loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff
@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard
@giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon
@911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie
@your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck
@aroeddiediaz @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks
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Harry drifts into awareness after his whatever-th trip to the examination room and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Everything hurts.
Voldemort isn’t touching him, but he has bunched up the hem of his robes to give Harry something softer than stone to rest his head on.
“Tell me something nice,” he rasps once he can open his mouth without retching.
“Shall I tell you how I plan to eviscerate our captor once we escape?” the man says with enviable candour.
“Only you would think that was nice,” Harry huffs a laugh, which, surprise, hurts. “Sure, why not.”
Voldemort has clearly put a lot of thought into this. It’s a masterful combination of physical and mental torture and humiliation, with some delightfully ironic touches. When Harry gives a weak round of applause, Voldemort grins savagely and looks like himself for the first time in… well, a while.
He’s sinking back into unconsciousness – thankfully in the form of sleep this time – when he feels a hand rest on his head for just a moment.
(VII)
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naffeclipse · 4 months
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he he ho ho
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hehehehehe
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tranakin-skywalker · 1 year
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It’s a lazy morning, the likes of which they rarely get. But with the end of the war so close, Padmé dares to hope for more mornings like this. Waking up lazy and happy and safe, her husband curled around her side and not off fighting a war he has no say in.
Three years ago it felt like a dream, but today she can practically taste the hundred mornings she’ll have just like this.
Hopefully with less datawork, though.
Padmé scrolls through her senate reports, trying to ignore the way they make anxiety knot up inside her chest. There is a slope the Republic is slipping down, and she fears she won’t know how steep it is or how deep it goes until they finally hit the bottom.
Her husband’s face pressed against the side of her belly is so much more pleasant to focus on. He hums sweet nothings to it, the naked metal of his right hand brushing tender fingers over her nightgown. It’s a lullaby he’s singing, she thinks, but she doesn’t recognize the words. It’s in a language she’s only heard him speak a handful of times, so much softer and sweeter than Huttese could ever sound. She likes his voice when he speaks it.
“What are you doing?” she murmurs, no longer able to focus on her reports.
The hand against her stomach pauses. "I want them to know I'm here, that I love them.” She can feel Anakin swallow, his throat bobbing against her side. Softly, he adds, “I want to make sure they know my voice… just in case.”
It breaks her heart, hearing him say things like that. Implying in any shape or form that he might die out there fighting. That he might ever die at all. She cannot imagine her life without him.
The hand not holding her datapad finds his scalp. Padmé runs her fingers through his hair, savoring the feeling of him there, beside her. Where he is supposed to be.
“They’ll know you,” she promises. 
Anakin hums, the sound reverberating against her stomach. She feels the baby inside her shift. His thumb starts rubbing soothing circles over it again, and the movement inside her settles.
“I never thought I’d get to be a father,” he whispers, soft enough she almost misses it. “Even as a kid, back on Tatooine, I just... it wasn't something I thought I'd be able to have.” The metal fingers press in a little firmer. Not painful, never painful. Just holding her in that desperate, adoring way of his. Like he can’t quite believe that she’s real. Like she’ll disappear between his fingers if he doesn’t hold in. 
“I wanted to, though,” he continues. “Be a dad.” The next breath he takes shudders out of his chest. “I thought the closest thing I would get was having a padawan. And even that... I didn't think the council would let me... let me take on a padawan..."
Hurt lingers in the silence. Padmé knows he’d been so terrified when he was first given Ahsoka. Scared out of his mind that he was going to ruin her, somehow. She thinks there’s a part of him that thinks he did. That blames himself for what happened. 
"We need to tell Ahsoka when she gets back…” he finally says, fingers curling. “She needs to know she's going to be a big sister."
@padme-amidalanaberrie asked for some soft Anidala so here you go
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aurae-rori · 12 days
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TIMELOOP AVENTIO AU BRAINROT
so i've been thinking and like they've actually been in my brain rolling around. i'm thinking about them dancing in one of the loops. ratio leading aventurine around in a slow, wonderful dance just for the two of them. there's no music and yet they dance, step after step, because it's just the two of them and time is limited but ratio wants to forget about how tomorrow aventurine will die. all he wants to do is hold this dearest gambler in his arms and pray to some sort of aeon that it will all be okay, somehow, someday. not now, though. now, he interlocks fingers with this man who's going to defy fate with his own help, and continues to dance.
he dances like he has no future or no past, and like this is not the thousandth time he's had to live through these days.
he dances like tomorrow he will wake up and it will be different.
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