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#and that my writing won't be good
lgbtlunaverse · 5 months
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There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.
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canisalbus · 8 months
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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128
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✦ A Voi ✦
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teddybeartoji · 3 months
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彡 A THUNDERING FIRST
☆. contains: suguru geto x gn!reader; meet-cute, fluff, trigger warning for a sweaty suguru, double warning for a very flirty suguru!! mentions of teeth and biting bc yk i love that shit wc: 4k
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reading in the park can be such a good way to spend the day – you get to hear the lovely little birds sing to each other, you can see the kids faceplant onto the ground and laugh it off, you can smile at passing dogs, you can feel the sun and you can feel the wind and for just a while – everything is good.
it's more windy today than it is sunny but that doesn't bother you too much. the gentle spring wind dances in the trees, swaying the tiny green leaves that are just beginning to grow. the ground is still wet from yesterday's rain but it's not too muddy. you're grateful for the shower anyway, excited for the fresh grass to rise from the soil, pretty flowers alongside it. everything smells good, too. the air is crisp and filled with new beginnings and laughter and now you feel yourself getting a little too poetic.
looking down at your book, you twirl your pen between your fingers as you try to bring your focus back to the words on the pages. okay, reading in the park can be a little distracting sometimes. but most of the time it's not that bad—
you raise your head from your lap when you hear the steady steps and it's weird because you've learned to not give your attention to every passerby.
but this isn't just some passerby. the soles of his feet dig into the ground as he approaches and something about him just pulls you to him. you only have a second to look at him before he passes but it's enough to peak your interest like nothing else.
a pair of dark grey shorts with some black underpants underneath them, a pair of surprisingly clean sneakers on his feet, a pair of black socks, a dark blue almost skin-tight jacket and a black cap are what pull on your ropes but the messy black bun that peeks from under the cap, the various piercings and the dark purple eyes are what tie the knot.
his phone is in a little make-shift bag that surrounds his very big and glorious bicep and he has earphones on. you've never been this observant with a stranger before.
right when he passes by you, his eyes flick down to yours for a fraction of a second and then he's already gone. steady pace and steady steps as he heads down the path in the park, leaving you longing behind him.
you shake your head and once again, try to focus back on your reading. but it's even harder now that you know a man like that is just jogging around the place. you eye him from a distance away, wiping his sweat as he passes another runner. you've never seen anyone run as gracefully as he does. you force your eyes from him and glue them to the pages that lay neglected in your lap.
around eleven minutes later, you hear him again. you just know it's him by the sound of his steps, by the sound of his shoes hitting the ground – you look up and find him already looking at you as he closes in on you. there's a slight flush to his face, beads of sweat rolling from his temple and he looks gorgeous. he gives you a small smile, a really fucking charming one, and jogs on, leaving you staring at him again.
he does glance back at you, though. when he's a minute away and just when the path turns back around, his eyes search for you over the field of trees. his lips pull into a smirk when your head raises toward him and you drop it the second your eyes meet from far away. cute.
another ten minutes have passed and you've reread the same page four times now. the thought of quitting on the book is heavy on your mind as you consider just focusing on the man instead. it feels silly – stealing glances at a random crush at a park but you can't help it. he has wooed you with just about nothing; you don't know nothing about him other than the facts that 1. he's ridiculously good-looking and 2. he's a really fucking good runner. the lap he seems to be doing is one of the biggest ones in the park and yet he seems to be completing it in record time. maybe it's those long legs of his?
you twist and twirl the pen again until it slips from you, rolling onto the ground. you curse under your breath and then you hear him again. scrambling from your spot, you hastily grab the pen – a little afraid to be in his way; scared to embarrass yourself in front of him.
he's a bit more flushed this time around, sweatier and sexier. he exudes confidence; like not the type to be an annoying fuck-boy but more of a dangerous one. the type to break your heart like it's nothing but a glass toy. but then he gives you another smile and the thoughts fades. his smile is soft and his eyes crinkle as he does so. he nods his head at you and you do it back – you reckon you're really getting somewhere here. is this flirting works?
you watch him run off and almost die when he glances over his shoulder to get another look at you. a blink and you would've missed it – a wolfish grin; wide and sharp, it merely flashes at you but when you squint your eyes to observe him closer, he's already too far again.
your heart is beating way too fast for a person that's literally sitting down and your hands feel clammy. damn. luckily, you have the wind to help you cool down as you try to think of a plan to get his attention. you'd offer him water but that's a bit too far from a complete stranger. you'd ask him— what would you ask him? how's the run? no, that's bad. how's the weather? horrible. what kind of music are you listening to? c'mon, you can do better than that. come here often? awful, just awful. you decide that you won't say anything – stopping his run for some small talk would just be awkward and you'd rather just keep looking at him. that's the safe bet, that's what you'll do.
he's back. he's on his fourth lap and he doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon. all self-respect has gone with the dancing wind as you blankly stare at the handsome stranger. the tips of his ears have grown red too and he's really panting now. he's just so— he slows down. his steps falter a few feet from you and your eyes widen. well, you didn't really consider the possibility of him starting the conversation. you check the name of your book to make sure you won't make a complete fool of yourself and repeat your own name in your head. there's no room to fuck up with a guy like him.
he glances down at his feet and your eyes follow. oh... his laces are undone. that's... disappointing. you're about to curse yourself for even thinking that he'd actually wanna talk to you but his silky smooth voice breaks your little bubble.
"may i?" his slender finger is pointing the bench your sitting on and you can't to open your mouth, humming an reply instead. his posture is extraordinaly as he walks to you and plops down a bit too close for a stranger (you most definitely do not mind).
it's quiet for a moment before he speaks up again. "what are you reading?"
you quietly thank yourself for checking the name and introduce it to the man beside you. even as he's tying his shoelaces, he has a strong presence. he keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, letting you know that he is in fact listening to you. when he's done he leans back against the bench and sprawls out his arms on the backrest; one of his is dangerously close to your shoulder but he'd never make that move this early. he just wants to make clear that he is as interested as you are. he lets his legs spread out a little wider, situating himself a bit more comfortably on the wooden bench and you stealthily pinch yourself for stealing a look at his strong thighs.
"you know, i thought about what to say but i couldn't come up with anything good... 'how's the run?' is pretty stupid, isn't it?" you ramble as you feel yourself melt under his gaze.
"you thought about what to say?"
...
"i– "
your head falls down to your chest as your whole body heats up – now you're actually afraid of melting away. you hide your burning face in your palms and you sigh. so much for not embarrasing yourself, huh? he in turn, lets his head fall back as he grins up at the sky. his lip piercing shines under the greyish light and his eyes fall shut as he basks in your flustered state.
when he feels like your cuteness meter is just about full - he lets you off the hook. "that's really sweet of you."
peeking from between your fingers, you look at him. his eyes peer from underneath his cap, and in a way, it's really adorable how you're both hiding your eyes from each other. maybe not even hiding, but just, sheltering them. gauging when to finally drop the act and let yourselves stare at each other freely just the way you actually want to.
"not totally embarrassing?" you joke, forcing down the nervousness and letting a smile sprout on your lips instead.
"not at all." he assures with his saccharine voice. you almost believe him.
"it's never a bad thing to be prepared." you've known him for mere minutes but you know he's teasing. the tease is smoothly hidden in his charismatic tone but it's there nonetheless. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and he wipes it with the back of his hand.
you bite the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands but avert your gaze, turning to the trees for a boost of strength.
he'd never admit it but... he too had to think of a way. he too thought that it'd be too weird to just ask about your book – he had to think of a way to break the first barrier. so, he untied his laced before he reached you. but that's a secret.
"suguru."
you whip your head your back to him, surprised by his little introduction. you repeat his name out loud and it tastes like honey, the syllables falling from your lips like a sweet goo. he does the same with yours and you swear you've never heard anyone say it the way he just did. there's a purr to his voice, coming from deep inside his chest - each letter is given so much thought and care. accompanied by the determined look in his eyes – you're just grateful you're already sitting down; he has your knees feeling weak, the muscles in your body tensing as he shifts just a little closer. barely an inch but it's enough to speed up your heart even more, enough for your body temperature to be reaching a new high.
his hand reaches over and you follow it in slow motion; you can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as his fingertips graze your cheek. heat blooms from the touch and you feel like you're about to burst into a thousand little butterflies.
"you got a little something here..."
he takes notice of the warmth even though the contact lasted a fraction of a second – he's as observant as ever. his foxy eyes twinkle with a dose of smugness, a certain heat running through his body at the effects he seems to have on you.
pulling his hand back, he displays the single eyelash he just caught on his pointer finger right in front of your face. "c'mon, make a wish."
he watches your eyes flick from his finger to his eyes and then back down, he watches your brain work out your silly little wish. he thinks about what his would be and wonders whether you'd want the same.
you inhale sharply before blowing on his finger, letting the eyelash take flight and disappear with the wind. smiles bloom on your faces – the childish act bonding the two strangers forever.
"the run was good, by the way." he rests his hand back behind your shoulders, making you subconsciously lean closer. "the weather is good; i like this better. hard to focus when the sun is bearing down on you."
you nod your head, utterly bewitched by the man before you, and he knows it too. "'though it's hard to focus when i have you sitting here, too."
he has you hooked and he won't let you go. your eyes widen as his bore into you, absolutely feeding off of your every reaction.
"oh, you're killing me..."
"am i? i'm sorry for that, sweetheart."
you can't keep the groan that bubbles from the depths of your throat as you double over, hiding your face in your hands again. his quiet laughter rumbles through his chest and when you swear that when you raise your head, a singular sunray shines from behind the clouds. it lights up his smile, his eyes crinkling in the process. wow.
"when are you gonna come here again?"
there's no time to waste – you have to shoot your shot. you have to.
he lets the laughter die slowly, impressed by your sudden burst of confidence. "tomorrow."
"you run every day?" his ego grows in size at the surpised tone and he nods. "wait, how come i've never seen you before then?"
"maybe you were actually reading your book all those other times, hm?"
your heart does a little flip in your chest and you bite down into the soft flesh of your lip. he's sooooooooo...
he adjusts his hips on the bench and catches you looking. he's tempted to make another tease but—
"i would've definitely seen you if you were here. you're kind of hard to miss. very hard to miss actually."
he hides his reaction with a deep hum, infatuated with the fact that you can keep up with him so well despite your flustered state. "i just recently moved here, so... it'd actually be very nice to have somebody to show me around. the coffee would obviously be my treat, you know, if you're down for it, if you want to be that person for me."
his offer almost flies over your foggy head but his last words sink their claws into you at the last minute. the butterflies in your stomach are making you feel sick, a giddy nervousness swimming in your veins.
"i'd love to be that person for you." you nod your head, gluing your eyes to his as the final push to show you that you're as interested as he is. as if that wasn't clear enough already. "mainly for the the free coffee, though."
"right... right..." one of the corners of his lips is crooked upward and he looks so good. he looks like he bites, like he would sink his teeth into you so, oh, so gently and then lick the wound to make you all better again. you're really in it now.
unbeknownst to you – the sky has turned a shade darker, grey clouds now swarming the entirety of the field of blue above you and suddenly you feel a cold drop on your warm skin. and then another. and another. craning your neck up, you take in the foggy ceiling as the rain starts to soak your clothes.
you scramble to pack your bag, throwing your precious book in there before frantically looking for your pen only to have suguru hand it to you with a smile. "here."
"thank you."
you don't want to go. he doesn't want to go. the strap of your bag sits on your shoulder, the soles of your feet dig into the ground but nothing. you chew on your cheek and he picks at his fingernails – neither of you ready to part with each other just yet.
but thunder booms, yanking yourselves out of it. reminding that this chapter is only beginning and that the first page is always the shortest one anyway.
"you're gonna get a cold like this..."
"like what?" the water droplets cascade down his neck as he leans closer.
"oh, i don't know... sweaty and hot? what if the wind and the rain get to you and i don't get to have my free coffee, hm?"
he does want to bite you. his canines bite into his bottom lip as he observes you. how you're completely unfazed by the rain, how your confidence is clearly growing as you tempt him with your words.
"the wind and the rain have nothing on me, angel. i'd kill to get you that coffee." lightning strikes as his words fall from his tainted lips and he can't tear his eyes from you.
finally, he pushes himself off the bench and you watch him stretch his whole body like a big cat. an inch of skin shows itself from below his jacket, his happy trail making your eyes bulge before you clear your throat with a quiet cough and push yourself up aswell. making sure you have everything, you check your bag and your pockets and turn to him, only to find him already staring down at you. he's tall. he looked tall before too... but now that you're standing next to him – he's really fucking tall. and he seems to be thinking the same thing as he takes the oppurtunity to assert a little dominance by closing the distance between you.
"and maybe the rain will do you some good too... maybe it'll help you cool off, yeah?" there it is again – hidden by a tone of genuine advice – the tease. it slips from his curved lips with ease, with too much ease, and you hate that you can't even argue with him. you burn under his eyes and the rain is seemingly the only thing that's keeping you alive at this point.
"i think you should buy me so many coffees." you sigh, clutching onto your bag strap. he's towering over you, so you need just about anything and everything to keep your composure.
"yeah? what for?" he laughs. god, you love his laugh.
"for putting up with your teasing. i think i deserve a reward, honestly."
it looks like a scene out of a romantic little movie – the two lovers standing in the storm; fingers twitching beside their bodies, gazes lingering on each other for longer than they should. nobody would guess that this is your first meeting.
"terrible manners, by the way. i can't believe i'm still talking to you." you give him another sigh, albeit an overly dramatic one this time.
suguru hasn't been this beguiled since... ever probably. yes, his friends tend to give him snarky comments like this but it's entirely different coming from you. it gets his heart pumping like nothing else – the rush from the run has nothing on you.
"oh, my deepest apologies, your highness. shall i kiss thy hand before we part?"
his little bit coaxes out a loud cackle – his chest swells at the sweet melody, getting addicted already.
"yes! yes, i think you should do that, kind sir." your cheeks hurt from smiling when you hold your hand out for him, testing whether he'd actually do it.
(he's forcing down a full-body reaction at you calling him sir.)
suguru is not a man to back down and you're about to learn all about it. the thunder rumbles loudly, echoing through the park he takes your smaller hand into his bigger ones, raising it to his mouth. his purple eyes twinkle at you and your breaths are getting shorter and shorter. his lips graze your wet skin before he's fully pressing them against you, all while keeping eye contact with you.
a shiver runs up your back and you're about to pass out. or throw up. or die. something is happening to you and he's the sole reason behind it.
he lowers your hand and offers you another dangerous grin; his sharp teeth glint from behind his pretty lips as the lighting flashes again and you gulp.
"don't die on me now."
...
your jaw drops and you place your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up to show your 'annoyance'. "exactly what was the point of the kiss, if you plan on continuing your little act, hm, suguru?"
"the point is to get to kiss you again."
..................................
oh.
this stranger will be the death of you. your whole body flushes again, your own built up cockiness fades away, leaving you small and shivering before him. the perfect prey ready for picking.
"not today though. can't have the highness grow too big, now can i? but perhaps next time? over that promised coffee?" his voice is sticky and sweet, meant as a trap to catch little doves like you.
you squeak out a mhmm as he's already getting his phone from his little bag.
by now, you're both absolutely soaked. the spring thunder cleans you from the groggy winter feelings and thoughts and gives life to... whatever this is going to bloom into.
you exchange your socials, giggling at how the screens refuse to cooperate under the rain but you get it done nonetheless.
"please, don't get sick."
"if i do, you'd nurse me back to health though, wouldn't you?"
you slap his chest, unable to bear the teasing little remarks any longer. his charisma knows no bounds and it's 100% not what you expected him to be like. maybe you should've – the eyes betray him.
"probably, yeah. nurse you from this horrendeous act. where are you learning it from anyway? some terrible love coach?" you scoff.
"something like that yeah." he trails off, once again hypnotized by the way your wet eyelashes shine when you blink up at him.
"okay-okay, we have to stop this now or we'll both get sick." you shake your head, physically trying to remove every thought of him that has been swimming in your head for the past hour or so. he hums as a reply. he fixes the cap on his head and awaits for you to make the first move.
it's taking everything in you to do so – it's almost as if you're glued there, right in front of him and it just feels right. his voice is right, his words are right, his eyes are right, his lips, his teases; but when the thunder booms again, you know it in your guts that he's gonna be in your life for a long time.
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this kind of turned into smth way different than i intended but i'm not mad hihihi
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stellamancer · 7 months
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limitless (satoru gojo x reader)
notes: uh. should be working on my halloween fic lmaoo. but uh. thought i'd bang this out. inspired by a conversation with @shotorus about the names we use to refer to certain characters in narration. lmao.
contains: fem! reader (the only physical trait is that reader is shorter than gojo, gojo almost uses a gendered term for reader, but is cut off), established relationship (me: coughs up blood), typical gojo antics, nickname usage (darling, honey, sweetheart, babe), part of the infinite loop fic verse
wc: around 720
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"...I have a question."
You look at Gojo expectantly. Normally, he just says whatever is on his mind without pause, without filter, so you don't get why he's standing on ceremony right now. "Yeah?"
"We're dating, aren't we?" he asks.
You nearly spit out your drink. He's not wrong; for better or worse, he is your boyfriend now. The fact of it is actually kind of unbelievable when you think about it. Not just you dating Satoru Gojo. But you dating Satoru Gojo. If you had told yourself that it would have come to this ten years ago, even five years ago, you would have thought yourself a liar.
Now he's the one giving you the expectant look, his lips curved upward that little smile that always manages to get your blood boiling. The cocky bastard probably just wants you to admit it.
You consider saying 'no' just for the hell of it.
You decide not to. It feels almost as if you’re pulling teeth when you respond, “...we…are.”
Gojo’s mouth puckers and you brace yourself knowing full well that he’s about to start whining about something. There’s always something with this guy…"If we’re dating, then why am I still just 'Gojo' to you? I call you by your first name!"
"You've always called me by my first name," you dead pan.
"That's because I've always loved you!"
You roll your eyes. You know that's a lie, but you don't intend to argue with him— at least not head on because you know that it’s just going to lead to a dead end. "No, you love disregarding proper social etiquette. Or rather, you don't see the point in it."
"Oh, darling, you know me so well!" Gojo gives you a saccharine smile and you almost gag.
"Don't call me that."
He pouts. "Well, if you say I always call you by name, shouldn't I call you something else to show how special you are to me?"
"...no, actually, just my name is fine." A nickname from Gojo sounds dangerous. The thought of being called some cutesy nickname in front of everyone you know is mortifying. In fact, Gojo would do it solely to embarrass you.
So, naturally, he ignores you. "If darling is no good, what about... babe? Honey?"
"Gojo, really, you don't—"
"Sweetheart? My love? Oh, I know, I bet you'd love to be called pr—"
"Satoru."
He immediately stops talking, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. You didn't think that that would have that much of an effect to be honest. For once, it feels like you have the upper hand. You make sure to savor the moment because you know they are far and few in between.
"Just my name is fine," you repeat. "...okay?"
He gulps and answers, "...okay."
You try not to let your mind linger on the fact that his voice just now was lower than usual. "Good. So—"
"Say it again."
You blink. "Huh."
"My name," Gojo says, his voice thick with emotion. "Say it again."
When you don't say anything he takes a step toward you, the infinite cosmos in his eyes staring you down. You feel defiant. It's not fair of him to ask you anything when he looks and sounds like this. Gojo takes another step closer and you think that if you're adamant about not giving in to him you better do it before he gets too close.
"You've... " you start and hate how breathless you sound. This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to you. "You've hit your daily limit."
Gojo pouts and takes another step. "Well, that's not fair."
"You're not fair," you retort.
He doesn't argue and you take that as Gojo admitting that he's playing dirty. "I think you should up the limit."
You hold your ground as he takes one more step closer.. "No. You think there shouldn't be a limit."
Gojo chuckles and leans down to bridge the rest of the distance between you. He cups your cheek, bringing your face closer to him. Your breath stills as you feel his own on you and it’s damn near intoxicating. His mouth is barely touching yours and your thoughts shift from trying to keep the banter going to how the slightest movement from either of you will result in a kiss.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours. “There shouldn’t.”
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thepurplewombat · 1 year
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its always such a good moment when you're scrolling through a ship tag in a new fandom, and you see a name you know
and you're like, YES
because it's a favourite author from like, three fandoms ago, and maybe they were one of two (2) people who did your ship justice in that fandom and you just KNOW that their opinions on this new ship are going to be Correct
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viperwhispered · 2 months
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Rest
Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.
At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 
However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.
You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.
So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.
It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.
At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.
“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.
Of course.
It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.
You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.
“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.
“Yes.”
“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”
“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.
Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.
“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.
Really, when did he get so tired?
And how did you not notice it earlier?
You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.
Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.
You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.
Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.
Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.
“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.
Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.
“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”
“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.
Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.
But sometimes you really wish it would be.
Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.
Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.
“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”
You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.
“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”
Still, Jamil frowns.
You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?
“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.
And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.
“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.
It seems he has accepted his fate.
You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.
And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.
Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!
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54prowl · 4 months
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arranged marriage to a reformed womanizer husband on your wedding night. and he scares you at how adept he is with his fingers in unbuttoning your dress. each clasp released is a relief from a long day of celebrations. reformed womanizer husband who suddenly feels ashamed about it all when you freeze under his touch, face flushed and breathing ragged, but he promises it'll feel good. he promises this with wine in his breath and a worry on his brow. it'll be special because it's you. he promises this because you're the only girl he cares for. the prettiest in the world. and he means it this time.
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hualianschild · 5 months
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let's talk abt hua cheng and the way his entire *almost* existence relates back to xie lian cuz it's been my current roman empire, his name having the word 'hua' which means 'flower' can be seen as relating to xie lian's god name (the flower crowned martial god), also he's called crimson rain sought flower cuz he was shielding a lone white flower (also represents xie lian) from the blood rain (he can be the said 'flower' in that rain too actually), that red coral pearl on his hair braid ? it belongs to xie lian, that red string tied around his finger, xie lian tied strands of his hair around that finger which represents marriage and ofc the red-string-of-fate soulmate trope, he has xie lian's name tattooed on him in his terrible writing, made an entire city just so his love can come there and rest and build a temple there so he can worship him and remained his only devotee when xl lost everything (that thing abt gods being in existence as long as there is someone to worship them) he gave up on becoming a god cuz then who will be worshipping his god ?? isn't afraid to show his true form to xl which he never did to anyone, destroyed those thirty three gods cuz they ridiculed his gege, took lqq along with him to qi rong's den so he can clear the false accusations even if xl didn't want him to CUZ YOU WILL NAWT BE HATING HIS DIANXIA OVER THINGS HE NEVER DID i mean his entire existence is because xie lian said 'if you can't find any reason to live, make me your reason to live' and oh isn't that level of devotion and love so devastating ?
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strangersatellites · 1 year
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very excited to announce this!!!!
envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3
this is part one of what will be the
Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)
pride (noun) - inordinate esteem for one’s own excellence. It is a habit or vice that disposes us to think more of ourselves than we ought. 
The Hair.
King Steve. 
Pretty Boy.
Steve is no stranger to objectification. He’s well acquainted with the way girls blush and giggle when he smiles their way in the halls. The way guys seem to puff out their chests when they speak to him. 
In fact, his physical appearance has become so much a part of who he is at this point that he’s probably single-handedly keeping Farrah Fawcett spray on shelves across the nation.
But the thing about being naturally attractive, Steve learned the hard way, is that humility is what really gets under people’s skin. 
Blushes go pinker when his response to a giggly “You look handsome today, Steve,” is looking at his shoes with a quiet, “What, this? Thank you.”
Other boys look less ready to throw a punch or an insult his way when they sprinkle their gametime trash-talk with “Pretty Boy” and “King Steve” if he just laughs and keeps playing.
Humility is what really does it.
For most people.
In the past few months he’s been dating Eddie Munson though, he’s realized there’s one exception. 
It's not that Steve doesn’t think he’s attractive. It’s not that at all. He knows he’s good looking, spends an inordinate amount of time making sure he highlights it daily. Loves it about himself actually.
He doesn’t usually let people know that he knows, is the thing.
But Eddie loves when he’s vain.
Loves the way he primps in the mirror before they go out.
How he spins around to make sure his best assets are on display.
Steve’s honestly lost count of the number of times he’s been talking to himself in the bathroom, staring at his reflection saying “Damn, I look good in this outfit,” before arms are snaking around his waist and squeezing at his hips. A gravelly, “Fuck yeah you do,” in his ear.
That’s why, with a Herculean effort, Steve pulls himself away from Eddie’s lips where he’s in his lap on his couch.
They’re both breathing heavy, lips swollen, and eyes glassy. But Steve has an idea.
He rubs his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and breathes a laugh when he turns to nip at one of them. Can’t help but to lean in and kiss him again.
“Can we try something, baby?” He whispers into the barely there space between them.
Feels Eddie nod and hands grip at his thighs.
“Anything you want, Stevie.”
He trails a hand back to tangle in Eddie’s curls and shifts to bite at his ear and whisper, “Want you to fuck me in front of the mirror. Wanna watch.”
When Eddie pulls back from him it’s with a wicked smirk and eyes darker than Steve’s ever seen. He bucks Steve up and off and smacks him on the ass when he turns to leave.
“Yeah baby. Let's go watch how pretty you are.”
He knows his smile is blinding when he laughs back over his shoulder. 
*****
Steve always thinks he’s hot, but he thinks he’s prettiest when he’s kneeling and sitting back on his boyfriend’s dick with tear streaks down his cheeks and drool down his chest. 
He’s so spacey, and so stuffed full that he’d agree with almost anything Eddie said. 
Currently it's a litany of, “Look at you baby, you’re so hot,” and “My sweet baby. Prettiest angel,” and “Look how pretty you are, huh,” with every punch of his hips and bite to the side of his neck.
Between Steve’s punched out breaths and whines he’s nodding. “Mhm. ‘M the prettiest. So pretty when I cry.”
His agreements have Eddie groaning and wrapping the hand not digging into his hip around the front of his neck and dragging him backward into a bruising kiss. 
He’s smiling and Steve can feel him laugh when he whimpers against his mouth. “Tell me about it baby. Tell me what’s pretty.”
Gasps from deep in his chest when Eddie wraps his hand around his cock and tugs. 
“Tell me.”
Steve whines once and squirms under the attention. Loves it. 
“My eyes,” he gasps. Eddie hums from behind him and slows his hips to a deep grind. “My eyes look really green when I’m crying. I like them.”
A soft kiss dropped to his shoulder and two sets of eyes on him in the mirror.
“My hair. Like it when– when it's messy,” a hiccup and eyes squeezed shut when Eddie shifts inside him just right. “Like when it’s messy from your hands.” 
He slides his own hands up his thighs and squeezes at the hand Eddie still has against his hip. 
He meets his own gaze in the mirror and his face breaks into a smile as his chest heaves.
“Like my lips when they’re swollen. People can tell I just kissed you. Want ‘em to know.”
In a second Eddie’s got a palm flat against his back and has his shoulders shoved down into the carpet, his head twisted to see himself.
He knows he’s falling fast because he giggles when Eddie grips at his hips and pulls him back onto his dick. Giggles even more when Eddie looks up at him in the mirror and smirks when he pushes in deep.
“Pretty when I’m ass up for you,” he smiles and his eyes finally stray away from his own reflection to meet his boyfriends gaze, fucked out and cocky.
Eddie lands a sharp smack to his ass and squeezes. “Hell yeah you are baby. So pretty when you’re on my dick.”
One of his hands slides up Steve’s spine and presses down on the back of his neck and pulls a gasp from his lungs. 
“But you know what baby?”
Steve hums with his eyes locked on the way his ass bounces with each meeting of Eddie’s hips.
The hand snakes back around to tug at his cock again and he knows it won’t take much more when Eddie grits out “Prettiest when you come for me.”
His legs shake and he lets out a high whine as he spurts into Eddie’s hand.
“That’s it angel. God you feel so good, Stevie,” is all Eddie can get out before Steve feels his hips stutter and his breath leave him in low groan.
Steve knows he’s attractive is the thing.
Knows he’s pretty and loves it.
People tell him all the time.
But one of his favorite things to hear is when he’s coming down from his orgasm high, his boyfriend lists the things he finds prettiest.
“Your smile.”
“Your laugh.”
“Your heart.”
“The way you love people.”
“The way you love me.”
“The prettiest is the way you love yourself.”
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arienic · 2 years
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Can I request a Dottore x reader fic where reader says that they’ve contracted ligma and he genuinely ask “what is ligma?” ?
DUDE IM ON THE FLOOR LMAOOOO
I DON’T USUALLY WRITE CRACK BUT U KNOW WHAT . anon i like ur style so. here u go! if u ever see this then i hope u enjoy!!! this is set when dottore’s still a student at the akademiya i hope u don’t mind 😭 <333 
SPOILERS: Dottore’s real name (heavily implied by interactibles across Sumeru)
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“Zandik!”
Your lover startles, gloved hand snapping away from the Khaenri’ahn machine sample he was about to begin tinkering with. His jaw clenches, irritation rushing over him, because every time he tells you not to interrupt him while he’s working, and still you continue to do so. Do you test him on purpose? Do you want him to snap?
(Do you not know of the horrible temper he possesses and how badly he wishes to keep it away from you, a person who chose to love him despite the repercussions—disapproving looks from Akademiya staff and students because of him, snide comments about your character because of him, dozens of relationships lost because of him—a person undeserving of the sharp words that will leave his lips when he does lose control?)
Zandik’s lips part, a request for you to ‘leave him be so he can focus’ already on the tip of his tongue. Hopefully this time, you will listen, he thinks, fingers tightening ’round the wrench in his hand. Hopefully this time, you will get it. Hopefully this time, you’ll stay away. 
When you rush into the room however, clothes wrinkled and red in the face, his mouth snaps shut and he sets the tool down immediately.
Your name comes out in a breath as you come to a stop in front of him, his hands hovering over your sides. “What happened? Are you alright? Why are you—why are you in such a rush? Is everything okay?”
“Zandik,” you start, eyes locked with his—then immediately fall into a coughing fit. You fan at your face, bent at the knees. “Sorry—sorry—just give it a moment—”
“Why’re you in such a rush?” he means to ask in a worried tone, but it comes out in a snap instead. He winces. You ignore it. “What’s going on?”
A finger raises above your hunched form. “One moment please. Just”—you cough again, wave him away when he steps forward—“one. Give it a second.”
He gives it a second. He gives it two seconds. You’re still coughing up your lungs by the fifth second. Zandik decides enough is enough and moves for the glass of water on his table, but you put up your hand again, give one last pathetic wheeze, then clear your throat and straighten up.
“I should join you on your runs,” is the first thing you say.
He rolls his eyes. “Why were you in such a hurry?”
You blink at him, unresponsive for at least three moments, then drop your shoulders. You look almost defeated, he thinks with a frown. He doesn’t like it when you’re sad—defeated. The same thing, really. Point is: why do you look like that?
“Zandik,” you say for the third time. “I was just at the healer’s—”
He frowns. “Sadiki?”
“Who else? But yes, so I was just—”
“Why were you at Sadiki’s? [Name], are you hurt? You look fine. Are you sick? What’s going on?”
“Zandik, he says I’ve contracted something.”
His heart drops into his stomach. No. “What? But it’s—it’s nothing serious though, right? You’re not going to—it’s not terminal?”
You bite your lip and duck your head away from his sight, hands twisting together.
“He says…” You pause, and he tenses, preparing himself. “Sadiki says I’ve contracted ligma.”
Zandik's frown deepens. Ligma? He’s never—is it terminal?
“What is that?” he asks. “Is it terminal? I’ve never heard of it, but if it is—is there any cure? I’ll find a cure. I’ll make you a cure, I swear—[Name], is it terminal?”
Your shoulders are shaking, face still turned away from him. Are you crying? No—but that would mean—
“Zandik,” you say shakily, and he takes your shoulders in his hands so he can pull you into a hug, “ligma balls.”
Ligma balls? He frowns. Ligma—ligma balls.
Ligma balls.
It hits him.
Ligma balls.
He forces you into his arms, turns you, and finally sees your face. It’s pinched. Scrunched up. 
In laughter.
You’re not crying. You’re laughing. Your shoulders are shaking because you’re laughing.
He shoves you away.
“Zandik,” you laugh, keeling over, “lovely—”
“Don’t lovely me,” he snaps. You laugh harder. “You—you fucking—”
“My sweetest darling—”
“Fuck you, [Name]!”
“Any time,” you only just manage to say between wheezes. He goes beet fucking red.
“Get out of my damn room!”
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deservedgrace · 2 days
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cult jokes are a symptom of and contribute to the simultaneous sensationalizing of cults (cults are all dark cloaks and animal sacrifices and devil worship and group suicide and despicable/unhinged beliefs) and diminishing of cults ("uwu come join my CULT XD we're gonna make cookies and WORSHIP SATAN teehee"), but i'm realizing how they go so hand-in-hand with the mindset of "only ~stupid/evil/crazy/etc.~ people could possibly join a cult. if it were me i would simply not fall for cult propaganda."
the diminishing part means that people don't take you seriously if you say you're an ex cult member or talk about your experiences in a cult or believe you are a current victim of a cult, because cults are just silly little groups that have weird beliefs but are otherwise innocuous. the sensationalizing part means people will also not take you seriously because if it was Actually a cult cult, that does harm and has evil beliefs, you should've known better because any reasonable person would have seen through it. the other side of "only an [xyz] person joins a cult" is "i am not an [xyz] person so i will never join a cult or be victim to propaganda and other cult tactics." the other side of "if it were me i would simply not fall for propaganda" is "someone falling for propaganda is fully a choice and a personal failing on their part." and combined they make: if you were [xyz] enough to join a cult and fall for propaganda, that means you deserved it.
people who would never make jokes about any other kind of abuse but feel perfectly fine making cult jokes used to kind of baffle me, because why is joking about personal abuse a problem but large-scale/group abuse is fine? why is it suddenly funny when you're the one that wants to perpetuate the abuse? but if your belief around cults is: "your experience wasn't that bad [diminishing], and if it was that bad [sensationalizing] it was your own fault and personal failing [i would simply not fall for propaganda], which means you deserved what you went through [only stupid/evil/crazy/etc people join cults]" and you don't understand how cults or cult tactics work, cult survivors/victims probably feel like a fair target for jokes (they are not, to be clear).
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firephoenix2305 · 18 days
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Very quick post.
It recently came to my attention (I read it on Instagram somewhere) that the reason Crowley says "Can I hear a wahoo?" in season one is because he'd heard Aziraphale say it after the magic show in 1941 and he loved it so much he wanted to hear it again.
Just wanted to let everyone know I'm very VERY normal about this. Completely sain, me. Yup. Did not scream. At all.
*visibly holding in a brainrotted squeal of ineffable husbands cuteness*
(please send help)
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teddybeartoji · 4 months
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it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.
it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.
so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?
or is it the fingers in his hair?
he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.
you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.
he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.
his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.
as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.
a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.
he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.
even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.
your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.
his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.
he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.
he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.
and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.
you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.
he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?
no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.
it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.
he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.
turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—
a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.
seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.
his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.
his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.
you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.
don't stop.
+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right
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utilitycaster · 1 month
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This is probably something that will be obvious to many but: writing about fictional works but not creating fanfiction/fanon to me tends to fall into four categories, and I think it's really important to get how they intersect before getting weird about other people's posts.
Opinion. Eg: I like relationships based in mutual understanding. This is my opinion. It is correct for me. Might not be correct for you! Note that this is pure opinion, with no argument.
Interpretation: Eg: Beau and Yasha's relationship shows a great deal of understanding in each other's shared experiences, including abusive parents; a shared tendency to believe, at least earlier on, that things will go badly and that they don't deserve better; and difficulty expressing their feelings verbally but letting out frustrations through fighting.
Fact/Evidence: Beau says she is unused to things turning out good, and Yasha believes herself to be, as she says, very unlucky or cursed. Her letter covers that she expresses herself through fighting.
Conclusion: I like Beauyasha.
Argument is Opinion + Interpretation; a valid argument is Opinion + Interpretation + Evidence. Meta can include opinion but ultimately is Interpretation and good meta is Interpretation + Evidence. It's fine to post just an opinion, but if you want to change minds, you need an argument, and if you want to be able to hold your own against a counterargument it better be valid.
You can have the same interpretation and facts and different opinions and therefore different conclusions. Someone else could say "I like messy relationships (opinion) and so Beau and Yasha's shared understanding (interpretation, same as mine) is not interesting to me (conclusion)." You can also have a different interpretation from the same facts, either because you are including a different set of facts on a topic or because there is ambiguity and room for different lenses.
If your goal is to change someone's mind - and to be honest mine usually isn't - you are unlikely to change their opinions. Eg, If someone says "I don't like Beauyasha because I prefer messier relationships" I'm not going to convince them on the grounds of "you shouldn't like messier relationships." I need to either put forward an interpretation that supports a messier relationship, or, more realistically, say "understandable, have a nice day" and move on with my life.
That last bit is important - a lot of people also argue on the basis of "well obviously this interpretation is the only one, so you should draw the same opinions from it." and that's likely to fail; either the person disagreeing with you overall does agree on the interpretation but has different opinions (as in the above example), or they have a different interpretation (eg: Beau and Yasha have attacked each other repeatedly) and that is the basis of their opinion (I don't like that). You need to figure out which is going on and address that should you wish to change their mind. And again, I think you should ask why you want to change their mind.
The last point is that all of the above is valid given the text and reflect different perspectives. But if someone were to say "I don't like Beauyasha because Beau turned into a porcupine and moved to France, and I don't like long-distance relationships" the invalid portion is that this literally did not happen (fact leading to interpretation). If someone can correctly dispute the facts of your interpretation (as they stand at the time, obviously; no one is penalized for not being precognitive) then you are fucked, argument-wise. If I point out that Beau did not turn into a porcupine nor move to France, this person's argument falls apart. They can still dislike the relationship, but if they want to justify it with an argument they better find a new interpretation, and fast.
Before I move into the end I will note that you can also just not vibe with something, and that's purely in the realm of opinion + conclusion, a la "this rubs me the wrong way" or "I find this annoying" or "it's cute" and all of those are valid to hold for yourself, and also inaccessible to anyone else
The conclusions I draw from all of the above are first, making posts that are only your opinion/conclusion is always fine - say what you want - but treating it as an argument is a waste of time, and so anything of the order of "how could you not like xyz (unspoken: because I did)" is pointless because my answer is going to be "easily, and with confidence." Secondly, I think it's valuable to look at posts, even those with arguments, as primarily interpretation rather than opinion. Putting forth a separate interpretation is a disagreement, but it's not a disagreement necessarily directed at you; it's disagreeing with you but the parallel play option is available! You do not need to go out trying to convert all to your same mindset. I think a healthy fandom ecosystem has multiple interpretations and opinions and respectful disagreement; the positive version of "let people like/dislike things" (ie, they can like it or dislike it and if you're normal, your enjoyment is not contingent on theirs). Thirdly, get your facts straight or suffer the consequences. And finally, if you are trying to make an argument for an ongoing work and do so over time, your opinion must be fairly consistent even as the interpretation naturally evolves otherwise it becomes clear that you are arguing in favor of a foregone conclusion (often via moving the goalposts). If you say "I like characters who are willing to make painful and difficult choices, and Blorbo always takes the easy way out, so I don't like them" and Blorbo develops into a character who is able to make painful and difficult choices, if you start critiquing Blorbo now on the basis those choices that's still fair but you better come very correct, and it might be wiser to just say "I don't fuck with Blorbo, if you do that's great but I don't."
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cerise-on-top · 1 month
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hi I saw you did a fluff alphabet already for captain Price for some one else but Can I request more letters? you Can pick! sorry for the Bad English and stuff by the way, Its not my first language :)
Hey there! Don't worry, your English is fine! And sure I can :>
Fluff Alphabet for Price 2
E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?
Price is definitely the more dominant person in your relationship. Sure, he could always just sit back and let you do things, but he’s just so used to taking the wheel at his job that he just subconsciously does it at home and with you as well. Will always choose where to go to eat, will always help you in the bath with washing your back and whatnot, will often tell you what he wants you to do. In his case, though, he will reward you for listening to him. For example, he’ll give you a kiss on your forehead, cuddle with you on the couch or try to make your favorite food. He actually does enjoy being the more dominant person in your relationship.
J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?
Kind of? He trusts you enough to know that you mean no harm when you’re getting friendly with someone else, most of the time you’re just being polite. So, usually he has no problem ignoring it. But if he’s had a bad day and just wants to have you around him, with your attention solely on him, then he’ll get jealous very easily. Price will become a bit more touchy with you then, putting his arm around your waist, maybe even trying to scare the other person off. Once you’re home you’ll have enough time to get changed into some more comfortable clothes before he just plops down on top of you. Demands you pay attention to him. Scratch his scalp and he’ll calm down more quickly, though.
K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?
He’s not too bad at kissing. There have been plenty of people who have wanted to be with him since he’s a good man. A handsome one too. He’s had a few flings here and there as well, so he’s had his fair share of practice before. Although he’s usually composed when it comes to things like this, he was pretty nervous during your first kiss together. He made it quite obvious that he wanted to kiss you by putting his forehead against yours at first and asking you if you were okay with it. The kiss didn’t last too long, nor was it too intense. It was pleasant and just right. It was the confidence boost he needed to continue kissing you.
L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?
He wouldn’t really beat around the bush too much. If he really likes you then he’ll just make it known. If you reciprocate or just say yes, then that’s great. If you don’t then he’ll just move on. He’s got better things to do than be a lovesick fool, after all. Would ask you to meet up with him at a nice place, maybe even the place you first met if it wasn’t on a mission, and confess to you there. He may know that he shouldn’t really “purchase” you with gifts, but he’ll get you a small gift anyway. Nothing too big, just something small that you can remember him by.
O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?
It’s kind of obvious, actually. Especially to the people, who know him well enough. He becomes touchy with you. It’s not too much, and you could always just ask him to either tone it down or downright stop, but for the time being he will touch you. Just his hand on your arm, on your shoulder or your back. He is a bit touchy with his soldiers too, yes, but just a tad bit more with you. That’s why he doesn’t even notice it until someone points it out to him. His tone is also much gentler with you than it is with others. Plus he’s also more prone to praising you. It’s kind of embarrassing once he notices, but he can’t really correct that behavior either.
U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?
Once you’ve been together for some time, he knows you pretty well. He, too, is a pretty observant man. Plus he loves you, so why wouldn’t he want to watch you like a hawk? Is also pretty good at remembering things, so if you’ve mentioned something a few months, or even years, ago, then he’ll remember. This is a good and bad thing because he sometimes will tease you about it when he feels playful. Price can be a pretty empathetic man, especially towards his loved ones. Sure, he can turn that empathy off if he needs to, but he prefers to feel what you’re feeling so he can help you better.
W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.
If you complain about the stench of him smoking then he’ll actually try to tone it down a little bit. Sure, he likely won’t ever be able to stop entirely, but he’ll smoke a little bit less for you. You expressing concern for his health because of it would actually be a motivator for him to stop entirely. But he really needs it since his job is very demanding and stressful. However, you’re pretty much the only person who gets away with hiding his cigars. Everyone else will get an earful or punished, but not you. You will get an exasperated sigh and a “Love, where did you put them this time?” He will complain to you about how expensive his cigars are and how you shouldn’t waste them like that.
X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?
Yes, Price is a cuddler at heart. I know I said he’s the dominant person in your relationship, but he really doesn’t mind being cuddled either. In fact, he loves it. Doesn’t matter who’s cuddling who, doesn’t matter what position you’re in, he’s at ease as long as he gets to touch you somehow. However, if you’re not into it, then he can tone it down a little bit, he’s a mature adult, after all. Will still want to hold your hand from time to time, though. And he does love kisses as well. Loves to tease you by kissing the corner of your mouth, just so you’ll pout and ask him to kiss you properly. Whenever he feels like sleeping in you can actually get him to get up by promising him kisses. Tell him that sleepyheads get no kissies and he’ll be up fairly quickly.
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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 5 months
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Wobbly Hearts AU
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Summary: Kai doesn’t like soulmates. He doesn’t want them and he certainly doesn’t need them. High school is hard enough without all the extra stress of soulmarks and finding your soulmates. He decided at a young age he didn’t have time for soulmates and he plans to stick to that decision. Unfortunately, as always, the universe seems to take a lot of joy in messing with him. or Kai struggles with reading and it’s everybody’s problem.
Hi there! Yes it's the very fic I've been yelling about in vague posts and tags the last 6+ months! It's been so long since I've posted anything to ao3 I've forgotten how it works but I'm doing my best! This fic is an AU set in an alternate universe of the LEGO Ninjago Movie (2017) combined with a lot of the characterization and aspects from the original LEGO Ninjago show. It's over 100k so buckle up and prepare for some shenanigans!
the first chapter is UP
sample under cut
Kai got his first soulmarks when he tried to eat a marker.
Tiny, with fumbling fingers, freckles and barely two years old he didn’t remember that day in the slightest. But his parents told the story to him and Nya all the time when they were little. 
It was the little red marker they said that he went for. His mom didn’t notice until he’d pried off the cap and stuck it into his mouth after several unsuccessful attempts that ended in red marker all over his face. She’d gotten it out of his mouth before he could really try to eat it like he’d been meaning to. He'd started crying at the abruptness of his marker being taken away, but those tears dried up fairly quickly after his mom scooped him up. 
His mom laughed that maybe his soulmates wanted him to feel less alone because a blue marker appeared not long after they started to wash off the red.
His first soulmark.
Kai grew up with their scribbled colorful lines on his skin. At first it was the hazardous meaningless lines of a toddler and then, as time progressed, they became more purposeful doodles. They were just another part of life he didn’t fully understand but accepted as fact because his parents simply smiled and spoke over his head of soulmates. He didn’t think he really grasped much of the concept of exactly what a soulmate was until he turned five.
They were someone (or several someones) that could be his favorite person (or people) in the whole wide world if he let them. After Nya was born he argued she was his soulmate because she was his most favorite person in the whole wide world. His dad said it was a different kind of favorite. But Nya was family and that was just as important. 
It wasn’t until he was seven and struggling to learn the alphabet that he realized there was more than one soulmate out there for him.
Words started appearing as they learned how to write, the letters slanted and wobbly and hazardous. He watched their writing change and improve and watched them start to talk to each other. There were two of them. Two soulmates all for him. They talked in the simple words that they could manage. One excitedly scribbled I <3 U when they learned how. Kai had to ask his mom what the lines meant and she explained it with a patient smile. It means I love you.
He was ten and still just drawing doodles while his soulmates spoke of their favorite cartoons and what they had eaten that day. Letters seemed to float around his head and laugh at him as he tried to read what they were saying, frustrated tears biting his eyes and blurring the letters. Seeing him struggle, his mom would let him sit on her lap and read him the words out loud while he rested his head on her shoulder.
Pens and markers felt awkward in his hands. The little doodles he managed never looked as good as the doodles one of his soulmates was always making. Their doodles were of cool stuff, like ninja and dragons and mechs. The doodles were so cool and Kai doodled little hearts and flames around them as best he could to show how much he liked them. But half the time he couldn’t tell the hearts from the fire and explosions, everything so wobbly and awful. He tried to write his name once and it was almost worse than the hearts.
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