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#i'm blushing so hard
illiana-mystery · 1 year
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He's so deliciously, handsomely wicked.
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flustered-flux · 8 months
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losing my MIND right now omg-
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teyamsatan · 10 months
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I'm done , I'm calling 911, being that gorgeous is illegal 👮‍♂️🚔.
baby i think i'm safe from jail but i really appreciate it hahahahah <3 smooches xx
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llittletingoddess · 11 months
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When he sends you "Nothing Else Matters" with the words "Listen and relax" after another conversation with an eternally dissatisfied boss - it's worth a lot.
I think I fell in love...🤭👀
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ahysopae · 11 months
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Heyaaaa! I hope you're doing fine! <3
I've just read your fic Countably Infinite on Ao3 and I'm so in love with it. It is absolutely beautiful and a very mesmerising read. The characters feel so real and so true to their nature. It's like you know them better than anyone else. And the canon compliance makes it even better. The imagery and descriptions of every single moment captured the feeling and emotion so perfectly and I'm so amazed at how incredibly talented you are. I loved every single one of the sub-stories, each one was a beauty of its own. I won't be kidding when I say that this is one of my most favourite stories ever, not just of WavePang but of any other couple/show too.
I truly can't wait to read more of your works, as I'm into Harry Potter and also 2gether!
Hello!
Thank you so much, you have no idea how happy your message makes me!
I loved writing Countably Infinite. There is something so funny in writing in Wave POV (he is all logical at first, but it's for hiding so many feelings)
I spent so much time writing fanfics on the gifted that sometimes I feel like I know them. I still feel more comfortable writing Korn, but I'm very very glad you find them true. I think it's the most beautiful compliment for a fanfic writer.
Thank you again!
PS: just to avoid a deception, my Harry Potter fanfics are in french
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hyperactively-me · 7 months
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king!ghost x reader -- exploratory
it’s giving anakin and padme in the fields in that one scene from attack of the clones except add in smut 💐
warnings: smut, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, missionary (also yes i am aware that this is fantasy and theres no protection here, she's not gonna get pregnant from this time because i say so lol i make the rules!)
Under the vast expanse of the open sky, the gentle clip-clop of hooves resonated through the serene countryside. You and Ghost rode side by side on your horses, the wind playing with your hair as you explored the winding trails and rolling hills of Kastron. You were rarely let out of the castle, so this little day trip with Ghost was meaningful to you. You were excited to see the natural beauty of Kastron. There was an air of freedom around you, the two of you escaping your responsibilities just for today, finding solace in the beauty of nature. 
As you rounded a bend, the landscape before you transformed into a breathtaking sea of color. A ginormous flower field stretched out like a living painting, petals swaying in the breeze like waves on a tranquil sea. Your eyes widened in awe, a delighted gasp escaping your lips. You reined in your horse, a large grin forming on your face. 
“Simon, look at this!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with excitement. 
Ghost pulled his horse to a stop beside you, his gaze following your pointing finger. The corner of his lips quirked up as he studied your reaction, his normally stoic expression softening in the presence of your sheer delight. 
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice warm.
You turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “I've never seen anything like it! I’m going to see it up close.” You slide off the saddle, patting your mare before turning to face the fields. 
"Of course," Ghost replied, his tone holding a hint of amusement. He sits high atop his horse, studying your form. 
The scent of flowers filled the air, wrapping around your body as you entered the field. The world was a carousel of colors – vibrant reds, delicate pinks, and radiant yellows, – all coming together to create a rainbow. 
Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you let out a joyful whoop, throwing your arms up in the arm. You spin around, your arms outstretched, face upturned to the warm sun. Your laughter blended with the rustling of greenery in the breeze. Turning your gaze to Simon, you found him watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes. Your elation mirrored his expression, and a comfortable silence settled between you.
With a mischievous grin, you whip around and take off running through the field, your feet sinking into the soft earth with each step you take. Simon’s gasps for a moment, watching you take off. He jumps off his horse, following you as you twirl and skip amidst the flowers. His heart swells in his chest at your joy, in your simple infatuation with the fields of flowers. You’re dozens of feet ahead of him, your dress whipping in the wind as you frolick. 
Yet, as you looked back to see where Simon was, you stumbled over your own feet, your laughter mixing with a surprised yelp as you fell to the ground. Simon’s heart lurches, and he breaks out into a sprint towards you, his concern immediate. 
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks, chest heaving, falling to his knees beside you on the ground. 
You roll over onto your back, your hands hiding your face. He can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying. 
“D- don’t cry,” he says gently, hands hovering over your form. 
You bring your hands down over your mouth, and he sees your eyes are filled with mischief. 
You burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling within you. As your eyes meet his concerned gaze, you can’t help but laugh even harder, your mirth contagious. 
“I- I’m not crying, Simon!” you manage to get out between fits of laughter.
Simon blinks at you, clearly confused by your reaction. Relief starts to mingle with his confusion as he watches you laugh, and then his lips slowly curl into a reluctant smile. 
“You scared me for a moment,” he says, letting out an exhale. He looks at you, your smile, your beautiful face, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He rips his balaclava off his face unexpectedly, catching you off guard. You look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your laughter dies down. 
Suddenly, he straddles you, swinging his legs on each side of your body. He presses his hands into your shoulders, fingers gently squeezing your soft skin. You gasp at the feeling of his body on top of yours, and you bring your hands up to hold his wrists. You grin up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement. The flowers you’re laying in surround you like a colorful crown. The sight of you laying amongst them makes Simon’s heart pound. 
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just clumsy…” you murmur, brushing his tousled hair with your fingers.
He just looks at you. Your eyes flit to his mouth, his lips slightly parted. He hovers over you, unspoken desires hanging in the balance of the moment.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day,” you whisper, trailing one of your hands up his chest. 
Before he could respond, you closed your grip on his tunic and gently tugged, pulling him down towards you. The surprise in his eyes turned to a mixture of warmth and anticipation as your lips met in a soft, tender kiss. 
He groans quietly into your mouth, his hands drag up from your shoulders to cup your face. 
As you pulled away, Simon’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "That was worth tripping for."
You chuckled, your fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of his tunic. "Definitely worth it."
He kisses you again, pressing his hulking body on top of you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hands cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss. You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so full of anticipation and your body has gone to jelly because Simon is engulfing your senses, so big and strong, so perfect, as he kisses you. 
The warmth of his body against yours ignites a fire within you, the moment intensifying as he gives you more, more, more. Every touch, every caress means something more than it ever has before.
He breaks away from the kiss, panting with his face flushed. He licks his lips, pupils blown as he stares at you with nothing but adoration. 
“Si, please.” 
That nickname, the breathy please that fell from your lips. 
It was over for him. 
In an instant, he’s latched onto your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your skin, hands running down the sides of your body. He presses his hands into your sides, squeezing your soft curves. He lifts his head up from your neck when you let out the quietest, breathy moan. He looks down at you, your mouth slightly agape, his eyes search your face. 
“Do you trust me?” 
You lick your lips, nodding your head.
“No, no, darling, I need to hear you. Use your words.”
You shudder at his words, at his implications. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Good girl.”
He delves back into your neck, sliding his hand behind your head to push you closer to him. 
“Wanna make y’feel good,” he mumbles into your neck between kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin. Warmth floods your face as he speaks, your core growing wet with arousal. You press your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in your core, your clit throbbing as he kisses you. 
Your hands brush over his broad shoulders, swallowing as he works on your neck. Suddenly, he starts sucking hard at your skin, putting pressure into the curve. He kisses a trail from your neck, up to your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away, admiring his work. The feeling of his feather light breath on your skin makes you shiver ever so slightly, arching your body up into him. He lets out an amused huff, running his fingers through your hair. 
“What do you want, lovie?” he coos, twirling your hair in his fingers. 
“Everything,” you moan lightly, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him close to you as your heart races. 
He nods once, then tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. He’s so gentle with you, methodical and patient in a way you’ve never experienced or expected from someone like him. 
“‘M gonna take my time with you,” he says gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me, please, tell me if it’s ever too much at any point.” 
You cup his face with your hands. He flicks away a stray flower petal that fell into your hair. 
“I trust you,” you smile at him, stroking a thumb along his cheek. 
With that, he slowly makes his way down to your legs, hands pressing into your ankles as he starts to lift your legs over his shoulders. He starts to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly to give him access to your dripping core. 
“Wait, won’t someone—”
“No one will see, I promise,” he says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before delving under the skirt of your dress. “Besides, there's no one around here for miles,” he chuckles under your skirt. 
The anticipation nearly kills you as you feel his hot breath on the insides of your thighs, your pussy throbbing for pleasure. He peppers light kisses on the insides of your thighs, calloused hands gripping onto your supple skin with purpose. One of his hands cups your clothed sex, a finger tracing the thin cotton of your panties. You’re so wet already, and he had only kissed you.
“S’ wet already,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.” 
You gasp, hands reaching out to your sides in the earth as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls your panties down your legs and around your ankles. 
And then, as soon as he fully pulls your panties off, his mouth is on your core, licking a single stripe up your wet pussy. A light moan slips from your lips as this newfound sensation, grasping the grass and flowers around you, pulling at the flimsy stems for support. Simon starts to run his tongue in circular motions around your clit, applying pressure into it as he expertly explores your pussy. You moan louder now, more freely, as he applies pressure, thighs quivering as he sucks on you, lapping your wetness like a man starved.
You can’t take it anymore, you pull your dress off his head, raking your hands through his hair as he laps at your sweet cunt. You watch as he delves in and out, watch as his nose presses against your clit just right, his tongue pressing into your hole ever so slightly. Your back arches as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, tugging his hair as you moan. Simon flits his eyes to you, still lapping at your pussy with an eagerness as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. That cheeky bastard. 
“Si,” you whimper, a plea for a moment to take in what you were feeling. You make another sound, a mix between his name and a moan, all high pitched and breathless, and he groans, his pants feeling extra tight and restricting. He exchanges a groan into your core as he holds you tighter.
“Taste s’ good f’me,” he grunts against you, “such a beautiful girl."
His groans are muted but dripping with desire against your wet cunt, pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhe under him, moans freely slipping from your lips, pressing your core up against his face as you arch your back into him. You can feel him salivating against you, worshiping you like a man starved, like you were the most precious thing in the world. You are to him, though. You’re everything and more to him.
The coil deep within you starts to build towards a climax, your muscles tightening as he works on relaxing you, on helping you reach the pleasure that you so highly deserved.
“Let go,” he says against your clit, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. The huskiness of his voice, the way his tongue expertly explores your core is enough for the coil in your abdomen to unravel, and you cum on his tongue. You moan breathlessly, muttering his name, chest heaving as you let go. 
“Sweet, sweet girl,” he breathes as he pulls away, licking your dripping wetness from his lips. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”
You keen at his praises, tugging at his hair harder as he lifts up from your core. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. You’re panting, heart racing, staring up into the sky, blissed out from your first orgasm. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, and you reach your hands out for him to come to you. He immediately obeys, and as he hovers over you, you can see how his cock is straining against his pants. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his bulge for a moment before he kisses you, hard and deep. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 
“So good,” you say in between kisses. Your hands dragging up to the collar of his shirt. You start to paw on it, wanting him to take it off. 
“Take this off, please,” you beg, fingers sloppily moving to the buttons of his shirt. 
The way you say please so prettily, he’ll do anything for you. Anything.
He doesn’t wait to unbutton each of the buttons of his shirt, so he rips the shirt off, popping the buttons off as he rips the shirt off. 
“Ohhh-kay,” you whisper, taking in his bare chest. This wasn’t like when he fell into the lake, no, no, this was better. You run your hands over scars littered across his coarse skin, feeling him shudder under the touch of your soft hands. He lets you just, touch him, feel him. It’s quite nice, honestly, he thinks. He studies your face, your eyes growing wide as you run your hands across his chest and up to his broad shoulders, and squeeze them tightly. 
Absent-mindedly, Simon reaches up by the side of your head, plucking a rather large wildflower from the ground. Slowly, he slips the flower behind your ear, pushing away stray strands of hair from your face. 
“So beautiful, darling,” he sighs contentedly, his voice confident and full of pure affection. 
His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away. A warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you smile at Simon, your heart fluttering in your chest. His touch is gentle, and his actions speak of a tenderness that leaves you breathless. You find yourself lost in his deep, brown eyes. 
“I’m yours, Si,” you murmur, as you start to slip the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. “All yours.”
He watches, entranced, as you pull your sleeves down lower and lower, and immediately he reaches up to help you. He takes the fabric of your gown into his hands, and he shimmies it up and off your frame, casting it to the side. 
His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your naked form, eyes unabashedly raking down your body. You swallow the lump in your throat, the nervousness once taking a hold of you dissipating as he looks at you with nothing but adoration and devotion. His hands trace down your shoulders to your breasts, an animalistic desire to take you then and there strong. But no, no, he was going to take his time, be gentle, focus solely on you. 
“You really don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipple, pulling a string of light moans from you. 
He lowers his head down, latching onto your nipple with a contended hum. His hand grazes from your side, past your thigh, and down to your dripping core. His fingers tease your clit, and you gasp with a jolt. He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to your other. His finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, and just before he pushes a finger in, you gasp out. 
“I– I’ve never—”
He raises his head immediately, looking at your flushed face. You bite your lip, eyes looking away with embarrassment. Simon’s face morphs into a gentle, reassuring smile. 
“Shh, shh, I understand. Let me take care of you, darling,” he coos, stroking your skin. “Relax f’me.”
With a breath, you nod your head, and try your best to relax your muscles, breathing in and out steadily. You stare up into the sky for a moment, grounding yourself, watching passing clouds casting shadows all around. 
He agonizingly slowly plunges a single finger inside you, stilling for a moment as he feels you adjust. You shudder for a moment, your mouth open slightly as you take in his thick digit.
“Good, good girl,” he encourages, slowly pumping his finger inside you. Your back arches involuntarily, your hand sweeping in the flowers, plucking some out of the ground from your grip.
Simon grabs your hand with his free hand, allowing you to squeeze it as he works his way into you with a second finger. He starts curling his fingers inside you, reaching places you never knew existed. You let out breathy moans, gripping his hand as he picks up the pace, fucking you with his fingers. 
“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing his thumb into the thumb of your hand, massaging it slightly. 
“Simon, feels good,” you manage to spit out, your eyes fluttering closed as you just feel. Your wetness is gushing around his fingers.
“That’s it, lovie,” he encourages, voice sickeningly sweet. “Just one more.”
He plunges a third finger in, and you have to hold yourself back from screaming. 
“My perfect girl,” he praises as you take in his third finger, now reaching deep inside you. A deep set moan releases from your throat as you take in three of his fingers, wincing just a bit from the large adjustment, but feeling pleasure nonetheless.  Simon remains the embodiment of thoughtfulness and care, taking you in as you are, knowing that he has the privilege of being intimate with you. The way he stares at you in amazement, in awe, in affection has something growing even deeper within him. He loves the way he can make you come undone, the way he’s the only one who is allowed to see this side of you, the way he’s the only you trust fully and completely like this.
And with that, he can’t hold back anymore. He kisses you deeply, his fingers working in you slowly, methodically. 
“Simon, please,” you beg, panting between kisses, your core aching for more than just his fingers, “need you.” Your clit is throbbing as he presses into it, building up another orgasm. The way your fingers flutter around his fingers makes his cock jump, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he wants to be inside you right now. 
“I know, darling,” he soothes, yanking his pants down, his aching cock springing free from the confines of the fabric. You start to feel your muscles pulling, your wetness building up as his fingers hit a spot inside you, beckoning you to cum.
“Cum on my fingers,” he grunts, the pressure of your velvety cunt around his fingers making him move faster, reach deeper. You swallow heavily, your hips bucking into his hand a few times before cumming, soaking his fingers. 
“I need you, Si,” you’re practically crying, pawing at his chest for more. Your clit is throbbing, cunt aching for his cock. 
“I know, sweetheart,” he says again, sucking your slick off his fingers with a satisfied hum. You watch him, mouth agape. 
“Please,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around his waist, beckoning him towards you. 
In a rush, he’s checking you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the plush grass before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.
Slowly, he pushes the tip inside you, letting you adjust to the size of his cock for a moment. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he barely pushes his way inside you, but this feels better than his fingers. Much better. The stretch wasn’t without some pain, but you bear with it, gripping onto him as he starts to push himself inside you further.
“I know, I know, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear, his deep voice rattling your eardrums.
He lets out his own moan, feeling the way your pussy squeezes him just right. Your back arches at the sensation, a gargled moan slipping from your lips, encouraging him to slide the full length of his cock into you.
“F– fuck, lovie,” he moans, his voice high-pitched and husky. “So perfect—”
He finally bottoms out, hips meeting yours as you both pant, the stretch feeling so fucking good. He stills for a moment, relishing the way you squeeze and flutter around him, relishing the way your face is contorted into nothing but pleasure. 
“Fuck me,” you plead, hands reaching to his shoulders as he hovers over you.
He grunts and thrusts himself into you as deep as he can. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. You can barely breathe as he sets a pace, slow yet not teasing. He works his way into you with a reigned fervor, his hands gripping onto you like you could break into a million pieces. You feel like you’re floating on air, your back arching, pressing into him as he pumps inside of you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your vision being taken up entirely by Simon. His eyes meet yours and for a moment, you swear he falters. He’s taken with you entirely, your eyes on him is all he needs to be happy in this world, he decides. 
He hisses as you drag your fingernails down his back, holding onto him as he starts to move faster, harder. 
“My beautiful, perfect wife,” he grunts, rocking into you. He beckons you to wrap your legs around his waist, yanking you closer to him. 
“So soft, so soft,” he groans, lips meeting your neck in an open mouthed, sloppy kiss. “S’ happy you’re my wife.” 
Your face flushes at his words, too flattered by his words to say anything. Pure bliss courses through you as he praises you, fucking into you like a man starved. He hits a region deep inside you, and you moan abruptly. 
“That’s it,” he groans, his own eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as he watches you intently. A coil builds faster by the second, your stomach muscles clenching.
“Si—” you manage to moan, your hands moving up from his back to cup his face.
Tears blur your vision as you stroke his cheek, and he almost stops thrusting in you at the sweet action. In a flash, he’s moving faster, the colors of the flowers around your body becoming a blur as his vision narrows in on you, you, you. 
His hands slide down to grip your waist, his hold on you tightening. Your hands move to clasp around his neck, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, your movements sloppy as he fucks you so nicely, so perfectly. He has to will himself to stay upright on top of you, wanting to pass out from how fucking beautiful you look, how fucking perfect you are to him. 
“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect wife,” he moans, trying to express just how much he fucking loves this, how much he holds you in high regard. 
“I love you,” you blurt out, yanking him down on you. And then he’s pulling all the way out, just to slam into you again, and he can’t even find the proper words to respond, just absolutely fucking you into the flowers. 
“I love you,” he strangles out, bucking his hips helplessly into yours, and you press a kiss on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you,” he groans, letting you pull his face towards yours as you give him a deep, sloppy kiss. 
“I’ve loved you–” you try to say, your mind foggy as you leave open mouthed kisses along his face and neck, going down to his collarbone as he ruts into you. Simon mewls, his head dropping to your neck as you work on his skin. The coil within you is about to snap, your wetness coating his cock perfectly.
“Let go,” he says, pumping into you deeply, hitting a point that his fingers couldn’t even reach. “Let go, sweetheart.”
With that, you let out a garbled moan as you cum on his cock, clenching your eyes shut as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading away as if it's just you and him. His cock twitches inside of you as your walls flutter around him, his cock pulsating and throbbing, pent up from fucking into you. He breathes heavily, cumming into you with no remorse. God, you think you see stars as you feel him fill you up, moaning lightly as he slows to a stop. Simon is hovering over you, his hands planted on both sides of your face. 
“I love you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck, prompting him to lay on top of you. He stares at you, mouth agape, blinking slowly.
“I thought I dreamt you saying that,” Simon says quietly, before letting himself drop on top of you. You grunt as he lets his full body weight rest on top of you, but you didn’t mind. It felt good. Felt so good having your husband laying on you like this, after the most intimate moment you’ve ever shared with him up until this point. 
He turns his face to press a kiss to your cheek. He picks more flowers from the side, stuffing them behind your ear, pushing stray hair out of your face so he can see you clearly. 
“I meant what I said,” you whisper, voice hoarse. You brush some stray grass out of Simon’s hair as he goes to lay his head down in your neck. 
“I know you did,” he whispers back, inhaling your scent.
“I love you, too,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on your pulse. 
. . . 
After laying together for a little longer, he begrudgingly gets up to slide his pants back on. He goes over to your dress and undergarments, again, begrudgingly helping you get dressed again. You blush as he slides your panties back on your legs, breath seizing in his throat. When he finally pulls up the sleeves of your dress, you take his hand in yours. 
“Si, I honestly don’t think I can ride my horse back home,” you blush, securing the flowers behind your ear. 
“Ah,” he nods, looking down at you with a small smirk. “Of course.”
Suddenly, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you as though you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp, fastening your arms around his neck securely as he makes his way over to the horses, both grazing on some grass a while away. 
As he approaches his horse, he sets you down for just a moment, reigning in your mare. With a lead, he attaches your mare to his horse. You watch him for a moment before he’s back on you, lifting you up so you can sit side saddle on his horse. With a grunt, he swings on behind you, gripping your waist so you can sit steady. 
“Thank you,” you smile, leaning your cheek on his chest. 
“Anything for you,” he says, motioning the horses to go home. 
You didn’t notice the bouquet of flowers he had shoved in his back pocket.
A souvenir to remember this day by. 
- - - - -
(masterlist)
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esteljune · 1 month
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I was thinking about Johnny's scent. I don't think he wears any cologne. If you get close to his neck, right where his beard ends and his hairline begins, and you inhale just slightly, making him shiver, you'll smell a faint scent of pine mixed with industrial soap and a vague hint of tobacco. You don't know why, but it reminds you of the smell of the sun, salt water, and the sea breeze sweeping over rocky green hills.
When Soap comes home from deployment, his natural scent will be mixed with a faint aroma of jet fuel and the disinfectant he used on his new wounds to keep you from worrying.
The best way to enjoy Sergeant John MacTavish, however, is when he's standing in front of you, captivated as you slowly remove his t-shirt, revealing his broad, muscular chest. If you get close enough to make him blush, your fingers tracing the hot muscles, every scar, every fresh scratch, and his chest expanding like a bellows at your touch, you can smell his scent so strong it makes you dizzy.
That scent of sun mixed with the slightly acrid sweetness of sweat. In a kiss, when his tongue searches for yours and you let yourself go, you'll discover how intoxicating his taste can be. A bit too much scotch from the night before, that cigarette he smoked nervously before meeting you, and the coffee you made for him when he walked through the door.
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pweachfwoge · 5 months
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pre-exam ritual of doing another rendition of the kavetham/haikaveh tapestry - 🍮
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An analysis of Alhaitham's egoism in relation to Kaveh
(This is various parts of The Essay combined to make an overall analysis, so it is not the finished product, just things I thought were interesting!)
Max Stirner's anarchist egoism is speculated to be the basis of Alhaitham's personal egoism, therefore I will be drawing upon Stirner's 'The Unique and Its Property' for this analysis.
Property and power are key principles within this philosophy. The egoist recognises himself as an individual, separate from the general collective of “humanity”, in which concepts such as freedom and property are governed to and over the people, for then the individual is not considered as such, rather they are a part of “humanity”, rather than a whole individual (Stirner, 170). This thinking is demonstrated within Alhaitham’s Story Quest, where he dismantles Siraj’s Hivemind by targeting individuals that compromised the Hive and reminding them of their own beliefs and preferences – the individual in themselves is a whole, and is not a “part” of a system (Stirner, 170).
In this, the egoist governs himself by what he owns and what he wants to own: “ownness is my whole essence and existence, it is myself. I am free from what I am rid of, owner of what I have in my power, what I control. I am at all times and under every circumstance my own”(Stirner, 106). This relates to the concept of freedom, which, for an egoist exists according to having the power to be free of something, for example, being freed of hunger, thirst, or societal expectations (Stirner, 105). This is reflected within Alhaitham’s description: “He lives free – free from the searching eyes of ordinary people,” but also extends to the power to own.
As power is considered something which the egoist owns, property then becomes something which the egoist exerts power over, and in this, can property be made use of by the egoist – all the while, the property remains an independent vessel (Stirner, 162). This is seen within Alhaitham’s view on his vision, in that it is “no more than a useful tool”, as it can be used to serve his own needs, and that since it in his possession, he has obtained it with his own power, it makes no difference to check on it as he continues to retain that power.
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In this sense then, Alhaitham has constructed his life around this form of egoism, in that anything he wants, he has, such as his job as the Scribe, his house, the interests he pursues, the people he enjoys. In order to maintain this way of life, he will deal with, or be rid of, anything he deems as "harmful".
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With this, the egoist seeks satisfaction in themselves through the satisfaction of another. Ownership, in relation to another person, can become love, which like all things the egoist has power over, is ultimately theirs – as in their love for a person (Stirner, 187), which is given willingly by the egoist, for loving a person is done for the satisfaction that love brings: “But I love them with the awareness of egoism; I love them because love makes me happy, I love because love is natural to me, it pleases me,” (186).
In loving another comes sacrifice, which the egoist can give into without compromising himself, as he himself sets the “purchase price of [his love]” (187) according to the happiness attributed to the loved one, as in return, the egoist shall also receive happiness (186). To enjoy someone, in an egoist fashion, is to be able to sacrifice all possessions and ownerships without foregoing the sense of an individual, of “ownness”, as the egoist would then lose his objectivity:
“I can deny myself countless things to heighten his pleasure, and I can risk for him what would be dearest to me without him, my life, my welfare, my freedom. Indeed, it forms my pleasure and happiness to feast on his pleasure and happiness. But me, myself I do not sacrifice to him, but rather remain an egoist and—enjoy him. If I sacrifice to him everything I would keep without my love for him, that is very easy… But if I sacrifice others to one passion, I still do not…  sacrifice my particular worth, my ownness. Where this nasty incident occurs, love looks no better than any other passion that I blindly obey.” – The Unique and Its Property, 185
It is relevant to note that just as the egoist receives happiness from a loved one’s pleasure, so does an egoist suffer from a loved one’s despair. Just as the egoist would sacrifice something of their own to provide happiness for a loved one in order to exact their own happiness, so too would an egoist sacrifice something, or act, to eradicate the root problem of a loved one’s misery, as this, in turn, would then resolve their own misery:
“If I see the beloved suffering, I suffer with him, and I find no rest until I’ve tried everything to comfort and cheer him…. It doesn’t follow from this that the same thing causes suffering… his tooth gives him pain, but his pain gives me pain. But because I cannot bear the sorrowful crease on the beloved forehead, therefore, then for my sake, I kiss it away. If I didn’t love this person, he could go right on creasing his forehead, that wouldn’t trouble me; I’m only driving away my troubles. – The Unique and Its Property, 186
The phrasing of “driving away… troubles” is particular to note here, due to similar usages of language used within Alhaitham’s Character Stories, in relation to him acting in accordance with his self-governed rules and serving his own self-interest by: “[acting] on his own will and deals with anything that appears harmful in his eyes”.
Kaveh, however, interprets Alhaitham’s egoism as a detached, pragmatic view of humanity, in which the individual isolates themselves not only as a means of prioritisation, but by elevating oneself over others by refusal to intermingle and to cooperate for the benefit of others. Not only is this a harmful opposition to Kaveh’s view of individuals sharing their knowledge and talent in order to pursue a better society, but due to Kaveh’s experience of Alhaitham’s personal egoism, it is harmful to Kaveh personally. Kaveh refuses to prioritise himself over others because he has seen a negative consequence of egoism, in which he has been “cut to the quick” and it has ended one of the few stable relationships in his life.
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By Kaveh seeing Alhaitham’s comment about his altruism as malicious, Alhaitham has elevated himself over Kaveh, since Alhaitham does not have the same struggles as him, and has trivialised Kaveh’s trauma. To Kaveh, Alhaitham’s prioritisation of the self actively harms others as it desensitises the self to the emotions of others. Therefore, Kaveh opposes the egoism which Alhaitham advocates for, since he interprets it through his own lived experience. Hence, by Alhaitham asserting egoism over Kaveh as a means of Kaveh prioritising himself, it only reinforces Kaveh to strive to consider the feelings of others, as well as to not prioritise his own way of thinking if it undermines someone else’s.
In actuality, Alhaitham’s frustrations with Kaveh lie in his belief that Kaveh’s talents are incongruous with his values, and that if Kaveh were to prioritise himself, he would save himself suffering and enable himself to discover his “true self”, unrestricted by others placing labels onto him.
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This is a personal frustration which Alhaitham would not compromise himself to assert onto a person he was indifferent to, due to his belief of not getting involved with other’s fates. However, he has been observed to ‘subvert’ his own rules to accommodate Kaveh. Through egoism, it can be seen that rather than ‘subverting’ these rules, Alhaitham adheres to them as an egoist, since he sees Kaveh as his mirror, they offer each other a contrasting perspective he believes they need to have a complete, objective vision of the world.
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This is necessary for Alhaitham to consider within his own life, and therefore has extended his house to Kaveh, in order to expand his scope of thinking, and to consider perspectives he otherwise would not entertain. Kaveh’s ideals, his beliefs, and his philosophies explicitly interest Alhaitham, in contradiction with Kaveh believing that Alhaitham is disdainful of his perspectives.
In this way, Alhaitham enjoys Kaveh. He willingly pays for some of Kaveh’s tabs; pays for crates of wine for the two of them; and goes out of his way to pursue interactions with Kaveh. Just as Alhaitham is to Kaveh, Kaveh is an old friend, as unchanged in his beliefs as he was in the past and thus is a constant: “the most unshakable part of one's past is a friend that will never change”’.
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Alhaitham strives to act in accordance to his own egoism and therefore assesses what “appears harmful” to him, in relation to these rules, so as to be rid of them. This can be extended to Kaveh, as Kaveh falls under what ‘belongs’ to Alhaitham, in the sense that ownership equates to Alhaitham’s enjoyment.
Alhaitham wants to have Kaveh in his life due to the alternate perspective which Kaveh offers him, thus expanding his horizons and granting him knowledge he otherwise would not obtain. As well as this, Kaveh is seen to be considered part of Alhaitham’s way of life that he wants to protect. In line with Stirner’s egoism, it follows that as Alhaitham enjoys Kaveh, as in, ‘owns’ the contentment Kaveh elicits, he therefore is affected by Kaveh’s self-inflicted grievances. Therefore, Alhaitham sees Kaveh’s altruism at the expense of his own wellbeing as something “harmful” to be dealt with, as this not only causes Kaveh inward misery, but also detriments Kaveh finding his “true self” (Alhaitham Character Story 3), which the egoist pursues above all else.
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la-cocotte-de-paris · 10 months
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Needless to say this scene changed my entire being's chemistry
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illiana-mystery · 1 year
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He's so...scuzzy...and...sexy...and...French...
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imma-bunni · 9 months
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Sun Wukong - Monkey King: Hero is Back
Some character face sketches because I really want to be good at drawing him.
A precious baby below the cut
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(this face makes my physically clutch my heart it hurtss)
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krishna-sangini · 7 months
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Sometimes I just can't help but imagine all of #gopiblr dancing our hearts out to 'Kanna Niduninchana' (Kanha Soja Zara) and our peacock-feathered boy just standing there leaning on a wall and smiling at us like aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh
@cheolliepdf @celestesinsight @kanhapriya @saanjh-ki-dulhan @ramayantika @krishakamal @krishna-premi @krishnapriyakiduniya @krishna-priyatama @whaelien @idllyastuff @kaal-naagin @iwanttobeagopi @desi-yearning
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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 days
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Steve as the tutor and Bucky as the prince 😵‍💫
https://www.tumblr.com/makemonymoo/746006565355667456
[Link] to a text post from @/transpidered reading, "royalty kink where he's a soft spoiled prince and im his battle tutor who has to be a little too rough during combat lessons to teach him 😵‍💫" the reblog from OP has more details 😮‍💨
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I AM SO HERE FOR THIS, YES.
Can you fucking imagine?
Bucky would be so sweet and spoiled and soft--those big eyes, that pouting mouth, and whole his body. He's never had to work a day in his life. All he's ever done is wander around the palace grounds and dismissively wave his hands for his servants to do everything for him, so he's slim, but he isn't lean. Instead, Bucky's svelte with baby fat--thick thighs, a cute, round backside, and a waist with little rolls when he sits (he's always sitting on his ass). He doesn't have calluses; he's never been told no; he doesn't know what it's like to be bad at something--the concept of having to work for something, ugh, could anything be more unfamiliar?
So, when Bucky is introduced to his new tutor who doesn't obey his every word, who tells him no often, who pushes and pushes him...
Bucky is in trouble.
The first time he practices with Steve, Bucky ends up ripping off his helmet mid-way through, his hair a wild mess, frizzy and all over his face, some strands stuck in his mouth, leaving him wiping the back of his hand across his lower face. Then, he throws his heavy practice sword to the side, tossing his helmet, too, while he's at it. Bucky wants to pout, lips trembling--he's sweaty and gross, and his muscles hurt, and Steve keeps correcting him--but he snears at Steve instead, tears in his eyes.
Steve isn't going easy on him, sparing him no pity. It's not fair.
Steve pays those big, watery blue eyes no mind, rather, after he's done huffing and puffing, he asks if he's done with his tantrum and is ready to begin again. Bucky steps forward to come at him, but all Steve does is raise his sword, pointing it directly at his chest with a silent, raised eyebrow.
There's maybe an inch between Bucky's heaving chest and the tip of Steve's sword.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, your highness."
Oh.
Bucky is in trouble because for the first time in his life, his actions have consequences and... he likes it.
Thanks for these thoughts, Jesus Christ.
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chaikachi · 9 months
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rosegarden is sooooooooo canon baby
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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months
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Hii you don’t have to reply to this message. I just wanted to say you do amazing writing. The headcanons are adorable, the portrayal of all the characters are often accurate instead of OCC and your headcanons/stories are incredibly funny. Keep up the good work and I hope you have an amazing day
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This is so sweet!! I love you-I mean-I LOVE YOU
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