#except it's an excerpt

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).  @peanuttoffee it is finally later and I am doing it!! (I only forgot for like 2 days shhhh) This is from my harley-centric post nwh canon compliant fic that I call "Not SM4: Bring it on Home" but that's definitely the working title. I wrote like 2-3k today XD and now i need a nap.

“It’s from the Stark Foundation so you know it’s insured. So long as we grab it before FEAST receives it, it’ll be fine. We’re not stealing from the poor, we’re stealing from…” Chrissy looks at Harley with a wrinkle in her brow. “He wouldn’t mind, would he?”

“Who?”

“Iron Man? Tony Stark? The founder of the Stark Foundation?”

“How should I know?”

“Well… but I thought you met him that one time. Didn’t you?”

His heart thumps hard. That was a long time ago. He didn’t think anyone remembered. “I mean, yeah, but he didn’t exactly keep in touch.” He eyes her. “Since when do you believe that?”

Nobody at school believed him. No one at the bar believed him, and certainly no one at church believed him. Only Abbie, Mama, and Georgia and only them once they got eyes on what Tony did to the garage.

She tucks her hair behind her ears. “I dunno. At the time it seemed like a wild attention grab, but now…” She looks at him. “You actually met him, didn’t you? You saved his life just like you said.”

“I probably embellished a little,” especially when no one believed him, “but yeah, I met him and helped him fix his armor.”

“And that’s how you made yours.”

His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “There was definitely a ton of research between when I was twelve and now, but there’s where the itch started, yeah.”

IF YOU WROTE OR DREW THIS WEEKEND, CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED

[2readiscworld]

[starbiology]

i may be a tad excited for The Void Within plot

[words-and-coffee]

And yet, as they say, the heart is a leaf and the wind makes it throb.

Pablo Neruda, Then Come Back: The Lost Neruda Poems (Translated by Forrest Gander)

[cvtastrophee]

holding out hope only to be let down repeatedly should be enough reminder for me to stop.

[badassindistress]

The rain is already washing the snow away so I will not be emerging from my lair for the rest of the day. Instead I'll be tailoring this dress my sister handed down to me to fit me. To do:

Ironing

Seamripping and lowering the hem

Taking in the seams at the back

Adding pockets to the sideseams

Maybe changing the neckline? We'll see how I feel

Let's see if I can make this a one day project!

[howifeltabouthim]

'I don't want to do without you . . . I want to have everything and you as well.'

Iris Murdoch, from A Fairly Honourable Defeat

[ninasdrafts]

I‘m no longer hurt by the things you said to me, but the way you saw your opening and got out stays with me. It was easy for you. So convenient to flee when I wasn't looking. I was too busy rearranging my memories in my head, too caught up changing up conversations so they would have a better ending. Words said in anger lose their sting over the years, and yet every single one left its mark. Another nick in the flesh, another brushstroke added to the mural of our past. Sometimes my fingers brush over the places you touched and I remember how it felt when your knife split my skin. It's all right, I tell myself. It's all right to no longer want to see my scars and view them as landmarks of the town we built together. You weren't the first person I'd loved and lost but it still took me by surprise when your face that used to feel like a road map for me turned into no-man's-land. The tells I'd memorised over the years lost their meaning. While I used to read your mood by the tilt of your chin, I see nothing when I look at you now. Empty eyes and a mouth that speaks a language I became rusty in. I wonder when it changed. When the car drove right off the road. By now it doesn't matter. It only matters that it did.

landmarks of our town / n.j.

[lichqueenlibrarian]

From The Wounded Sky. I can’t express how much I love the way Diane Duane writes Kirk, there’s something so loveable about him.

[frogwen]

hiiiiii ❤️‍🔥 thank you @mousepal for tagging me! the game is i pick 4 of my favorite characters and then you vote on which you most connect with me 👍

hopefully even if you dont recognize the character, you still get the vibe. and im realizing belatedly that the only vibe is "guy who suffers" 💀 buuuuut this was genuinely fun to think about, so plz give it a try and tag or dm me if you make one too so i can see and vote :3

anyone, everyone @steevejr @foolishbeanwoman @nineofswords @eleventeenthealbum @wawek @nutongzhi @buttcheek2 @lycheeboy (sid mini bracket ? 😳) @archdemoning @twoticky @misevolimo @kirby97 @handweavers OR IF YOU SEE THIS ON YOUR DASH- IM TAGGING YOU. tumblr wont let me edit poll posts so this is the end of personal invitations lmao

[daylesspax]

Sneak peek for the new chapter of ‘Exception’

;)

If you’d like to read more:

The PDF link

And

The AO3 link

[fuck-kirk]

Thinking about Murtagh. Thinking about Nasuada. Thinking about Murtagh and Nasuada. Thinking about how Murtagh literally changes his entire being, his true name, because he finally realizes what it’s like to be willing to fight and die to protect another person. What it’s like to love and be loved. Thinking about how Nasuada had to let Murtagh go, both for his own good and hers.

Thinking about how Murtagh and Nasuada both survived a final battle they had no reason to expect to come away from. Thinking about how they are both whole, safe, and free…and yet circumstances demand they must stay apart. Thinking about how Murtagh is immortal, and Nasuada is not. She will grow old while he stays the same. She will live a life without him and someday, she will die. All the while Murtagh must stay away and watch the love of his life wither from old age.

Thinking about all the times Murtagh mentions that Eragon got the better end of the stick. And how, in this, too, Eragon’s situation still comes out on top. Eragon’s love is an elf, and on top of that, a rider. Even if they aren’t right for each other now, maybe someday, a millennia down the line, they will be. And even if not, they will remain friends through the centuries. Murtagh is not afforded even that mercy. He is not able to spend the time he does have with the one person he loves and trusts above all others (besides Thorn). The person he fought so hard for he changed the very core of his being in order to protect. The person he loved so much he broke himself from his own enslavement in order to have even a chance of saving her.

Thinking about how despite it all, he will still lose her in the end to time.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

guys I’m absolutely wasted off one strong pint on an empty stomach and I want you all to know that whilst I might not be able to fit a scene where Catrin wanks on Rolan’s shirt and taunts him about it whilst he’s tied up and wearing her lacy knickers into the Last Light section of Planar Tears -

- it absolutely happened and I’ll write it one day I promise so help me GOD I need his shirt smelling of her and Rolan never washing it again and getting cum all over her lace which she shoves in his mouth and HNNGGHGGGGGHHHH

[omtai]

have been putting off reading a story for my 18th/19th c. literature class because its 150 pages and thats scary and just learned i only have to read the first volume which is like 25 pages... life is such a dream

[crimsontentacles]

I saw a post that made me a bit confused and it may be a case of cultural/regional difference again, so another poll!

We're talking elementary/middle school level and if you get different numbers every year, approximate!

You can also mention what country you're from.

[voxofthevoid]

Lift and Fuck. 😏

Thank you kindly.🧡

I Know Who You Are 👁 👁

Here, have some lift-and-fuck with bonus chikan. Yes, I'm shamelessly targeting your weak spots.

CW for dubcon, public sex, noncon exhibitionism/voyeurism—all the usual suspects for the chikan trope.

He sees the people next. The busy platform, crowded with people of all ages, from all walks of life—waiting, looking, seeing.

Behind him, behind Yuuji, there are people moving, talking. Satoru can hear them. He can’t see them; he can’t bear to look.

“Yuuji,” Satoru says, soft and frantic. “Yuuji, they’re going to see.”

A hand curls around the back of his thigh and lifts, Satoru’s foot sliding out of the pants pooled on the floor. His insides shudder, a red-hot lash of sensation that flays him open from the base of his spine to the meat of his skull. His vision blurs, a riot of wet color, and when he blinks the world back into focus, Yuuji’s got a hand on his other thigh too, sticky hot with come but strong and sure as it lifts him, and this time, the biting change in angle takes a backseat to the dizzying experience of being lifted off his feet and spread open around a thick cock and shoved flush against cold glass.

Yuuji says, “Then let's give them a better show.”

The people, they’re—

They’re looking, they have to be, and Satoru doesn’t know if they’re seeing him, can’t think of any way they wouldn’t, but he doesn’t know, he can’t, his vision blurring and unblurring with tears and worse his whole damn body pulses with a new, nauseating heat.

“No.” It comes out weak and whispery, more plea than protest. “No, don’t, Yuuji, stop—”

Yuuji doesn’t stop.

He spreads Satoru wider, settling each knee on the crook of an elbow, and it’s ridiculous how easily he does it, like Satoru doesn’t weigh some eighty kilos, but that outrage dies when the sensation hits, Satoru’s thighs screaming nearly as loud as his ass.

“You’re very flexible,” Yuuji says, like he’s adding insult to injury. “Does it feel good like this, Satoru-kun?”

“No,” Satoru hisses, and it comes out more pathetic than angry, but fuck, he can’t feel anything except the stretch of thighs and the obscene mass plugging up his ass, like Yuuji’s cock has found whole new swathes of flesh to bully.

(Tumblr, why do you keep fucking with my paragraphs...)