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#give me the dictionary definition so i have it in my head cause all the real academics are like well first of all fascism can be anything
textualviolence · 1 year
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Got up to make myself some tea & heard a "ah. obviously" in the living room from one of my roommates who saw my computer screen open on the wikipidia page for fascism
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uncleclam · 9 months
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Ken x gn!reader / he wants to marry you so bad
Word count: 728
Rating: sfw
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This stupid doll…
CAN'T STOP PROPOSING
Whatever is going on in his tiny little plastic brain, you never expect THIS to happen. He must have been watching way too much Netflix, you know cause when you check the watch history, he basically clicked all romance drama possible, ALL. This is concerning, a drop of sweat formed on your forehead as you see he also watched all princess movies on Disney plus, too. Is this why he keeps bringing that up? That he believed in ‘happily ever after’? Because that sounds like something ‘the Mattel dictionary’ totally would have.
It wasn’t you’re not ready, well, a part of you is definitely not ready, or something anti-marriage of you, because you have definitely thought about it, dreamed of it even, but the reality of having a lifelong commitment is something chased you away—-
Not in a bad way, but definitely not in KEN’s way.
Ken is your cute, clumsy, curious, sometimes annoying roommate. He is still learning about the real world, everything is new to him and he’s so eager to try all of them. You tried to provide the best for him, he’s your favorite doll after all, he has been there with you since you can remember(In a toy form, naked)! You treat him almost like a pet now, you love him of course! Just not in that way…
I want to live with you forever! I want to be your forever partner!
His voice echoes in your brain, it was so innocent and charming actually, his big blue eyes were like shining diamonds, begging you the same way he begged for an ice-cream, you almost said yes out of instinct. Time felt frozen to you, your eyes widened, lungs stopped working. Ken blinked and waited for your response.
‘What did you just say, Ken?’ You asked, wanting to reconfirm.
‘I want to marry you!’
‘Uhh…’ You paused, looking away slightly.
‘Can i?’ He sounded so enthusiastic, like always.
‘I'm afraid we cannot…’ You finally gathered the sentence and spoke it out, sighed, and petted Ken’s hand that had been on your shoulder.
‘Is it something expensive again? Like a double decker bus or a horse?’ Ken tilted his head, he was genuinely asking. He had asked you so many prices on different stuff, especially the stuff he wanted.
‘Not exactly, but-‘ you shuttered.
‘Then why can’t we get married?’ He asked again.
‘Because it needs promises, and promises are not easy.’ You explained, felt like describing the concept of algebra to a toddler. Ken actually paused and started thinking for a while.
———
For the first few days, he seemed upset and confused after you rejected him. The concept of marriage he googled is simply not that easy, you tried to explain to him but he didn’t say anything. You heard him sobbing on the sofa that night. After a week, he’s back to normal classic Ken again, but whenever he opens his mouth, it’s about marrying you.
‘What do you want for lunch?’
‘A wedding dress on you!’
Or
‘Ken, will you pass me the sugar?’
‘I, Ken, take you to be my forever lover, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.’
A dramatic pause
‘I do.’ He vowed as he passed the sugar.
———
This has been 3 weeks now, about the marrying you thing, and he has no signs of giving that up. You wished you were a barbie so you wouldn’t have to care so much—- He even bought two of those Ring Pop where you can suck the candy while it stays on your finger. The candy itself is comically big. A red, cherry flavored for you, and a green, lime flavored for himself. He jogged his way to you, gently held your right hand up and pushed the ring down to the base of your third finger.
‘This doesn’t mean we are officially married—‘
‘I know.’ He looked up and smiled, putting on his own ring and licked on the sweetened crystal. Then He jogged away to look at other stuff while humming the wedding theme song.
He hasn’t taken off the finished plastic ring ever since, and so do you too.
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phoenixinthefiles · 7 months
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Six?...it Only Felt Like Four
Pavitr Prabhakar x reader ❤️...🔸🔷🪻 I hope and pray I got him right @vhstown @daydreaming-en-pointe @1610milesperhour
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The incessant ringing of the doorbell shakes you out of your daze.
Your homework could wait. It was only the start of the school year; one rushed assignment could be excused. Plus, now that you focused, the sound of the doorbell was a little rhythmic, which could only mean...
You were glad the only other person in the house right now was napping, no one could make fun of you for the embarrassing mad dash you made to the front door.
You yelled out that you were coming and stopped in the hallway mirror to check your appearance.
good enough.
With that, you open the door to see your boyfriend who has a smile on his face to match yours.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" He exclaims. Your brows immediately furrow, and your eyes follow his as they flicker to his hands.
He's holding a pretty blue and gold box with a ribbon so perfectly tied you know he couldn't have done it himself. It's really nice but...
"It's nowhere near Valentine's Day, that was like six months ago."
His smile doesn't falter.
"Only six months? that's close enough, nothing has really changed."
"It's summer," you deadpan.
"It feels like nothing has changed."
He says it in an airy way like it's just so obvious.
Like he hadn't been complaining about the historically low temperature when you first met this winter.
You shake your head with a small smile.
"We've been together for four months; six months is a long time."
He smiles to smirk, and you prepare yourself for what's coming next.
Here we go.
"My love, I wish us much more than six months."
You scoff incredulously. But He grins with a proud look on his face.
He's still as optimistic as the day you met him.
"Pavi."
"But six months is half a year. Half a year plus half a year is a full year, and a full year from Valentine's Day is Valentines Day.-
"Unless it's a leap year" you interject.
Pav continues as if you hadn't spoken at all, "So, it is basically Valentine's Day Eve. Which means I'm early, and it's after noon so... Happy Valentine's Day!"
He shoves the gift out towards you but instead of taking it, you blink at him dumbly.
"I don't know if I should be more concerned about the mental gymnastics you just did, or the fact that I understood you."
"Don't be concerned at all, you're just assimilating to me."
You grin, "that's concerning."
He rolls his eyes and the head tilting he does causes some of his, insanely perfect, hair to fall in front of his eyes.
Your fingers itch to smooth it back.
"Stop deflecting," he says, a knowing grin forming.
You sigh and your eyes flicker from the gift back to him.
"I didn't get you anything." Your hand reacts on your impulses and you brush back the hair from his eyes. He freezes for a moment and his shoulders rise close to his ears as he smiles warmly.
You return his smile with a far more shy one and the you two stand there, grinning like idiots, until his eyes make their way back down to the gift in his hands and he clears his throat.
"I don't believe receiving a gift is part of gift giving."
"When did you become a dictionary?" You scoff playfully.
"Deflectinggg." he responds in a sing-song voice, tilting the gift box in a taunting manner.
You sigh again and take it from him, "Are you sure?"
"Ayyōṭā, open it."
You run your fingers over the raised decorations on the box. It's a pattern of swirls that almost look like the Mehndi you'd seen Pav drawing on himself. It wasn't as unique though, it was definitely made with a pattern, but the gold brush seemed done by hand.
You squinted and tilted the box around a little.
"Did you do this?"
"The box? no. I did tie the beautiful and symmetric bow."
"Uh huh." You give him your most skeptical look.
He cracks with a roll of his eyes.
"Auntie was very willing to assist me."
"She probably wouldn't have been if she knew you would take all the credit."
"And certainly not if she knew you wouldn't open it."
You glare at him and his stupid charming smile for a minute, before giving in and carefully unwrapping the bow. Opening the lid revealed a hand painted yo-yo.
When you first met he had attempted to impress you by showing the tricks he could do on a yo-yo. It was really corny, but it still drew you in so you didn't have any room to talk.
You gasp and carefully take it out.
"Pav, it's so pretty."
He grins boyishly and his shoulders rise once more.
With the hand not holding the box, you run your fingers over the yo-yo; aimlessly tracing the designs.
"I didn't know you could paint. I mean I know you've done Mehndi but I didn't know the steady hand transferred over."
"Mehndi," He responds, mocking your pronunciation.
You roll your eyes and he laughs softly.
"Painting is easier; there's no possibility of Aadhya carrying out her threats when my hand cramps."
A giggle bubbles out of your lips, more out of nervousness than amusement, because his becomes a little too soft as he smiles at you.
His personality is so infectious, he lights up and practically glows when he smiles, and when he turns that radiance on you?
Your heart practically sings in affection.
"I'm happy you like it."
"Of course I do, it's amazing. But it might be a bit too much for someone who's only just learned walk-the-dog."
"It's a very impressive walk-the-dog. I was fooled!"
"That's not as big of a compliment as you think."
He rolls his eyes and mumbles something but you barely hear it, focusing on the yo-yo in your hands instead.
Before you can second guess yourself, you throw your arms around him.
He lets out a small squawk, but his arms immediately come to wrap around you.
It's insanely probably ridiculous to be so happy over something so seemingly inane.
But it's Pav, nothing he does is meaningless. A hand-painted yo-yo because you learned one trick?
It wasn't ridiculous when it came to him.
He's a constant positive, he's stunningly stunningly soft-hearted, and he listens to you ramble about the littlest things. As evidenced by your new gift.
He's your valentine.
Just six months too early.
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nanamis-bigtie · 1 year
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Ocean Tides
Character: Gojo Satoru Reader: afab (ambigious body descriptions, neutral words used regarding genitalia with an exception for word "clit") CW: explicit n.sfw content, PWP, one shot, established relationship, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Reader receiving), lots of teasing, edging, orgasm control, pet names ("thing", "doll") Word Count: ~3.8k Synopsis: Your box with sex toys disappears in mysterious circumstances right as you need it. The main suspect is, of course, lingering around, ready to give you a helping hand. A/N: Well, now it's the official virginity breaking for Jujutsu Kaisen :3 Requested some time ago by my bf and personal Gojo maniac @mysticaltigersorceress whom I happily murder now with horny. Of course, y'all are welcomed to join. I'd lie, if I said all those descriptions of hands didn't have any erm effect on me. The title is loosely inspired by the song I associate with Gojo and Gojo only - Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish. Itself, it has nothing to do with "plot", just sharing 'cause I think it's cool.
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It’s the third drawer—and still nothing.
At this point you don’t have much hope. You’ve checked all possible hides, plus a few less possible extra, and your box with sex toys is still nowhere to be found. All other places either wouldn’t fit it or are too much on display for you to consider them; for the peace of mind, you even ducked under the bed—just to find a long lost sock and a few overlooked candy wrappers.
And here you’ve been waiting for this little moment of solitude all day long… 
Frustrated, you throw yourself on the bed—and groan as the phone, stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans, pokes you. You snap it out, finger against the screen activates it, and your boyfriend’s infuriatingly stupid smirk flashes right in front of your face from the lock screen.
As if the last cog just clicked in and finally put the machine back on the right track. Of course, the most obvious answer and solution have been right under your nose all time long!
Satoru, have you seen my toy box?
He’s not one to catch himself into a cleaning spree—and especially not at your place—but he’s always the center of chaos. If you left the box on display when he was around, it was almost certain he would mess with it. Though, in this case you would be immediately attacked—he wouldn’t let such a discovery come to waste. Well, there’s also a chance he helped himself and stuck his nosy fingers where a normal person would never. After all, such things as privacy or social boundaries don’t exist in his dictionary.
Your phone vibrates before you can put it away.
naaah 
Such a fast answer would be suspicious even if Gojo wouldn’t be one walking definition of dubious truth himself. 
Are you absolutely sure?
what you dont trust me y/n (ノД`)・゜・。so mean
Despite frustration you can’t help but smile at the memory of his perfectly played kicked puppy face. He’s a bastard and a reckless clown—but an adorable one, you have to admit it. There’s a good reason for you to have such a weakness for him despite all the shit he constantly pulls on you.
Shaking your head and sighing, you start typing your answer—just to be interrupted halfway.
need help looking?
You throw the phone away and groan into your hands, pressed tight to your face.
“You’re right behind the door, right? You ass.” The walls of your apartment aren’t thick, he can easily hear you all the way from the bedroom. “It’s open.”
Gojo slides in almost soundlessly, announced only by the click of lock as he closes the door behind himself. Soon, he’s marching into your bedroom, not even bothering to take shoes and jacket off. Mischievous gleam of bright blue eyes blinks at you over sunglasses; he leans against the doorframe, casual, unbothered, so obviously lying it hurts to watch.
“So. Where is it.”
“Where is what?” He springs straight, puts hands behind his back and wobbles back and forth, like a student asked an uncomfortable question. “I don’t know anything about boxes.”
“Don’t play coy, I know you did something with it. Did you take it?”
“Nope!” You want to tear his throat open just for the way he prolongs the vowels as he speaks. “Why would I take your toys? I don’t even know what you are talking about.”
“You always know everything you shouldn’t know.”
“Touché.” He clicks tongue and leans forward, frozen mid-step, like a cat ready to pounce at its prey. His eyes meet yours directly for a split moment again, and it’s enough for the build-up tension in you to pick its head up and roar. How are you supposed to play the tough cop in this routine banter, if he only adds to the fire that’s been itching you all day long?
You clear your throat and try to subtly press yourself against the mattress, to ease the traitorous itch between your legs at least a little without dragging his attention to it. 
What have you been hoping for? Of course, Gojo would never miss something of this sort…
“All this fuss because you couldn’t rub it out?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You would gladly strangle him on point. “Fingers too short? Can’t reach? Babe, and you made me wait? I could—”
“You’re such a jerk.” You throw a pillow at him. He doesn’t even bother to catch or dodge, it stops an inch away from him and falls by his feet, sliding down the invisible shield of his cursed technique.
“You want it or not?” He takes his jacket off and throws it on the bureau. Tight, black t-shirt, fitting snugly his impressive musculature, doesn’t leave much to your imagination. “I’m busy, you know, and we’re sooo understaffed… I can’t waste my time.”
And that’s why you’ve been following me from work and waited all this time by the door? You asshat…
You roll your eyes and fall flat on your back, “Fine, if you’re already here. But wash your hands.”
“Your wish is my order.”
At the back of your head, you feel you’ve just been pulled into a multi-layered prank, but you still kick your pants and underwear off…maybe a tad too fast for your pride’s liking. Feeling the cool air against your dripping slit drives you mad and even more impatient, the sensation of emptiness only more present and pinpointed when you’re lying alone, stripped and waiting. Gojo, of course, takes his time, turning a simple task into a damned show, washing his hands profoundly at least three times (as you judge from the flushing sounds) before eventually wiping the hands dry and marching back. The need to strangle him—with your thighs, for extra flavor—just grows stronger with each passing second.
He stops in the doorframe again, cleaning his illegally long fingers with hand sanitizer and a tissue, each individually, a few times, with an extra attention paid to the nails. His hands are enormous, even for someone of his height and posture: a fact that has always been grasping your attention, pushing your thoughts straight into the darkest circles of lustful hell. You know well what he is capable of with their help, how deep and wide he can stretch you with only two fingers. Your insides twitch just at the thought, shallow breath almost whistles between your grit teeth, and a wave of heat crashes against your skin. It feels as if you were burning and blushing like a girl from shoujo manga—and regardless of what your face really looks you have an itching need to hide behind hands or pillows.
You win against the urge—but your legs aren’t as obedient. They close as soon as Gojo approaches, the echo of clapping thighs has his eyebrow cock in surprise.
“What, changed mind?” He takes glasses off and threads fingers through hair. So close, from the angle you took lying flat on your back, he seems even taller: blue-eyed giant towering over a lamb he chose for a snack.
Even if curling inside, inch by inch giving the reins away to the horny beast ready to bat eyes at him for a crumble of attention, you decide to still play tough. Your legs snap open, confident and welcoming, wobbling at knees only a little bit. You hope he hasn’t paid attention to that.
Abnormally blue eyes skim down your middle. Gojo stretches wrists, then cracks knuckles, one last time doing a show out of his hands. He beckons you closer, the movement of his finger almost hypnotizing, then points at the edge of bed. You expected him to climb on top, but you can’t complain when already rushing to follow the order. At the back of your head, you’re scolding yourself for being so obedient and nice for an asshole who surely pulled all of this circus to trap you for whatever reason his messy mind created. In fact, you’re just enthusiastically lifting hips for him to pile the pillows until he’s satisfied with the level and drops to his knees with a pleased, breathy sigh.
Even when kneeling for you, Gojo seems to tower over your body and soul. He slots himself between your legs, not without a stretch to fit his broad shoulders flush, hands rest on your hips and pull you closer, almost dragging you off the pile of pillows he picked himself. Your mind is already freezing at the feel incomparable to any other hold—but, of course, he can’t stay still. Huge, warm palms, long fingers, skin so smooth you can compare it only with velvet, trail down torturously slow. Your thighs seem to draw between them, their size underlined so well against your flesh. Instinct nudges you to shut your knees together—at the slightest budge though soft hands turn into iron and hold you almost forcefully where he wants you, where you belong.
He’s kneeling for you—but you’re the one left on his mercy. Little, fragile bird closed in the cage of his hands.
“So wet already?” The irritating, singing tone of his taunt ruins the spell. “Phew, it’s all spilling! What would you do, if I weren’t around?”
“I have—” The phantom of the missing toy box cuts you short, the break between words, however short, makes his smirk grow wider. “—fingers, too”
“Too short.” Gojo just states the fact. Compared to his, of course all fingers would be short. When he’s holding your hand, the difference is almost as sharp as between an adult and a child.
And to underline his advantage even more, Gojo reaches between your legs: confident, determined, cheeky. With a thumb, as long as a middle finger on many, he brushes your wet slit: a touch simple yet sparking your nerves so hard you jerk up and wiggle, craving more and overstimulated at the same time. Of course, he went right for the most sensitive lines and edges, your body like an open book against the all-seeing power of his eyes.
“Hey, hey, where are you going?” The other hand clenches harder and pulls you down, back to the place he chose. “You want to cum or not? Make up your mind.”
“Then start your work already?" You hiss through clenched teeth, now determined to fight against the odds, even if it wouldn’t last longer than a couple of seconds. You know he’d turn you into jello in five seconds if only he wanted to, but you have your pride—and your pride calls for standing your ground at all costs.
Gojo’s face is hard to read now, frozen right on the thin line between no thought and intense focus, his brows slightly furrowed—but not enough to ruin the smooth perfection. It doesn’t last longer than a few seconds, a cheeky grin soon returns…and from one meeting of your eyes you know you’ve just stepped into a serious problem. “So chirpy and pecky today. Alright. Here we go.”
He touches you exactly the same way, except…not really. Your hips budge again and a needy purr presses to your lips, but there is something not right. You know Gojo, you know his hands and his ways. The last crumble of the sane mind desperately tries to pull your attention to it before it’s too late—but another lazy swipe of his thumb swallows it like a black hole swallows light. 
Well aware of the death penalty, you walk into the delicious trap with a smile and enthusiasm. 
“Let’s see.” Gojo hums and brushes your clit one last time. He starts sliding a single finger into you, until at the third of its length he’s sure you don’t need much of a warmup. A withdrawal, then attack continues with two fingers, slipping smoothly and fast. Breath stills in your throat, you sigh, then moan feeling him reaching the depths many can’t achieve with a dick. He stills at your reaction, a quick, blue glance swipes across your face in a way so easily to be taken as a concern, especially in the state you’re currently drowning in: of a sheer, blind trust and eagerness to take anything he gives you without a shadow of doubt. A few seconds pass, enough to stir you on, not enough to let your brain cool down, and he starts stretching you a little, testing your capabilities with a patience of saint: withdrawing as he feels a resistance, attacking almost immediately after anew, and back.
Right as he has you ready for the third finger, Gojo pulls out, leaving you heated up, right on the verge of entering the state of blank pleasure and need for more.
“You really hadn’t been playing with yourself before I came here?” He looks at the thick strings of your arousal gluing his fingers and sliding down his knuckles. “You’re like butter today.”
A protest—at his disbelief and the comparison—dies on your lips at the sight of Gojo’s tongue swiping fast between his digits. He licks himself clean, then stuffs fingers into his mouth and sucks, enjoying your taste throughout. It’s a shameless demonstration, a jab right into the memory of his oral skills and a silent question. You would like it, wouldn’t you? So bad you will need to ask for it—no guarantee he will listen, though…
“Snack break over!” He announces with a toothy grin, prolonging the vowels like an overexcited child. Licking lips one last time, he returns to his task, two fingers in, dangerously close to the point you know—
“Fuck!” You choke on breath, turning into a tense string of pleasure. From lazy simmering you’re yanked towards the high with nothing but a lazy brush of fingertips—and then back when he returns to prior depth and pace, interested in nothing but patient stretching.
“Mmm? Ohhh? What is it?” He coos, all-seeing blue gazing right between your legs with intensity capable of piercing you like his fingers. “Felt that good? With only two fingers? Ohh, someone is sooo needy—”
The need to bark back at him—or strangle him, if he’s already within reach of your thighs—perks its head again, the more, the slower his fingers become, almost smothering the little flame under your lust. But as you try to move your hips against him, the other hand grabs and pins, and his eyes flick up, wide open, equally beautiful and terrifying,
He’s in charge here. You lie down and wait.
“You want me to work and then do everything on your own,” he even scolds you, with the same tone he uses against his students when he actually bothers to pass as serious. “I won’t find anything, if you keep wiggling around.”
His fingers curl with surgical precision, circle around the spot but not really touch it. The heat starts bubbling again, and you bite on your lips, fighting against it and trying to stay still as much as possible, from your twitching hole to heaving chest.  
“That’s it! That’s a good little thing!” Gojo’s face is simply beaming with a smile—but of course he doesn’t make your task easy. His fingers inch closer and closer, right on the edge, brushing and teasing, but never daring to cross the border. Tears start pricking in your eyes, the forced stillness and insatiable urge to act up and steal that last crumble you need for the spark of pleasure. You’re tortured with praise, humiliated with words sweet like honey—and despite everything craving to remain in this state. Everything for him to finally push that damned button.
“Satoru…” You whine, the last resolve perking up and crumbling into dust soon after. There goes your pride, at this point you’re ready to throw yourself at everything he offers. Truly a slave of sheer biology, of the itch that’s been with you since morning, through all those long hours of work, then desperate search of the only remedy you had before he’s appeared.
You haven’t stayed still, you haven’t listened, of course his fingers start to withdraw, the peak drifts out, behind the clouds, so close yet so far… Ready to mewl again, you bite your lips until you feel pain and the urge withdraws. The only sound you’ll allow is begging, until his fingers return and—
Gojo presses the button. 
A push is sudden and brutal, you’re flying towards the peak, landing face-down right before it, tumbling towards the longed-for finish along the steep ridge. Just a little more, just one second longer, just harder, just—
“Hmm, I wonder if I will fit three…” Out of nowhere Gojo pulls out of you, the peak not only yanked from underneath your feet but also thrown beyond your sight. Groaning and swearing, eyes full of frustrated tears, you dig both heels into his back…or at least attempt to, a merciless barrier pushing you away the more the harder you try.
“You. Asshole.” You spit through gritted teeth. “I don’t need three, I need to cum!”
“Told ya you won’t cum if you’re gonna squirm.” Gojo pouts, much like a child scolded for innocence. “I really can’t take a good aim. Hm. Maybe we need to change angle a little—”
He throws your hips up as if they were nothing, folds your legs to his liking until you’re nice and bent, thighs supported against his shoulders. One bastard grin later Gojo indeed fits three fingers at once, the stretch prominent even for your arousal and experience with him. He could make it easy, but he decides to be an ass for no reason, maybe except for the strain and masochist pleasure all over your face. Lewd, squelching sounds follow your mewls and chirps, with the weird position he’s forced on you your juices trickle down your ass and back almost like a stream. Maybe he made you squirt, you’re not sure anymore what’s going on, thrown around and torn between burning edge and infuriating denial. Your world keeps narrowing to his fingers filling your hole suit, so deep he nears your limit and so precisely he’s teasing everything but that one spot. 
“C’mon, you said you want to cum.” Gojo presses your legs down even more, the pressure inside you barely bearable. Piercing blue gaze is too strong for you to handle, you close your eyes so hard your face freezes in a ridiculous, scrunched expression. “Hey, no giving up on it. You can do it, Y/N!”
Shut up. Shut up. I beg you, shut up and just let me come—
“Satoru…” The last mewl nears crying, your breath stutters and melts into a dry sob. You’re half an inch away from breaking and bursting into tears. You can handle only as much, your legs tremble around his head, exhausted and strained, your helpless hole clenches on him with a silent pleading. Just that one push…
“Shh, I know. I’m sorry. I got you.” Cruel fingers slow down and withdraw. Gojo adjusts his position; lets go of your legs but lifts your hips even higher. Something hot and lighter than breeze brushes your wet, tortured folds, a rustle of a deep breath comes to your ears in a break between your sounds of pleasure and frustration.
Through tears nearly blocking your vision you risk a peak, right at the perfect moment to meet his eyes. Smiling—not cheeky but peaceful and admiring—Gojo looks down at you with warm love. The tip of his tongue swipes teasingly between his lips—before plunging itself deep in you, swirling and dancing until it finally finds the string you crave to be pulled.
Sharp orgasm throws your head back into the mattress and arches your body. Almost screaming, you spasm and shake, your heels finally finding leverage against his back and digging bruises as you ride your high against his lips. He slurps and sucks, his face pressed deep, nose grazing your clit until the second wave crashes against you, the second high even more steep and powerful.
Strong hands don’t let you fall. Groaning low in his own pleasure, Gojo drinks from you until you stop creaming and gushing, the moves of his tongue slowing down together with you, careful to not graze your oversensitive nerves too much. The next time you dare to look at him you immediately shut your eyes tight. The sight of his beautiful face, all wet with your juices and flushed with arousal, is simply too much for your ever-spent body and mind.
Your legs fall limp when Gojo lets go of them. There’s no power left in your limbs, he has to gently scoop and move you to the side before slotting himself by your side, head resting on hand, the other hand gently wiping sweat off your forehead. You take your time to come down and ease your breath, each drag of air almost painful with your rib muscles so strained. Your groin burns with satisfied fire, you’re still twitching over emptiness—it’ll take a good while for the double orgasm to finally ease.
When you finally gather the power to roll head to side and open your eyes, you meet the barrier of sunglasses. You have no idea when Gojo put them back on, but you’re grateful. If you gazed into that terrifying blue, you surely would roll back into the heat.
“The box is under the bathroom cabinet, by the way.” He throws out of nowhere and yawns.
“What? How—”
“I don’t know, maybe we kicked it when I was having you against it?” He rolls on back and stretches arms and back with a loud groan. “I think you were washing the toys when— Ough! What for?!”
You have enough power to slap him through the head three times, each too weak to hurt even a fly. 
“I fucking hate you…” You sigh when he grabs it and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.
“You were saying something quite different when I had tongue down your— Whoa, whoa, alright! Sorry!”
He grabs your wrist and rests your hand on your chest before leaning in for a kiss. His lips are full of your taste—but still, a faint flavor of sugar breaks through. You can’t help chuckling. Just how much of it he had to stuff in himself before he came here…
“Sleep.” He guides you to rest your head on his chest. You nuzzle close, happy, and smiling at the light, barely visible hair covering it. “You're gonna need lots of energy for round two.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you think we’re finished.” For a split second, right before fatigue wins and closes your eyes for good, the blue slips past sunglasses, cold and hungry, dangerous. “Silly doll…”
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forever-rogue · 1 year
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heyyy beeee🥰
I saw requests are opened and I come here bearing flowers and an idea. Here are the flowers: 🌷🌸🌹🌼💐🌻
And the idea: I just thought it would be funny and adorable for Steve “my favourite Star Wars movie is the one with the teddy bears” Harrington to have a Star Wars loving gf that would roll her eyes fondly and kiss his cheek whenever he got something wrong. He would be so cute trying to be involved bc his girl likes that stuff you know and she’d melt cause he’s trying for her even if it’s not something she expected him to do 🥲💖🩷
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AN | But this is my dream (it’s me, I’m Star Wars girlfriend) and it’s so soft. Enjoy🥺
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.2k
Masterlist | Steve, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Steve's eyes were glued to your figure as soon as he spotted you. It was a boring afternoon shift alone at Family Video, and he'd been absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. As soon as he heard the doors open, he perked up at the idea of some human interaction.
He hadn't expected to be blown away by having the prettiest girl he'd ever seen walk in. His brain turned to scrambled eggs immediately and all he managed to do was close the magazine as you disappeared into the aisles. You hadn't even noticed him; not on purpose, you were just on a mission. 
Tossing the magazine to the side, he slipped out from behind the counter and started walking in your direction. He cleared his throat, touched up his hair and prepared himself for what he hoped would be an actual interaction.
"Hello there," he turned into the aisle you were in, causing you to look up in surprise. The moment he got a closer look at your face, he suddenly forgot what he was going to say. Your eyes flicked to his name tag and you relaxed when you realized he was an employee and not some random man.
"Hi," and oh. Steve already loved the sound of your voice and the small smile you offered in response. 
"Help need…do you?" He managed to blurt out as you giggled softly. His neck and cheeks pinked once he realized what he'd say. He was already smacking himself internally, "sorry - do you need any help finding anything?"
"Yeah, actually," you put back the movie in your hand and turned your full attention to him, "I'm looking for - and don't laugh - the Star Wars movies. Do you have them here?"
"Why would I laugh?" Steve asked, shaking his head as he motioned for you to follow, "but you're in luck, they were just returned."
"It's just kind of a nerdy thing," you shrugged sheepishly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, "a lot of people think it's really lame."
"It's definitely not lame," Steve was pretty sure that you could read him the dictionary and it would be anything but boring, "its pretty cool. Especially if you're into it."
You felt your entire face flush as you peeked at him. Was he flirting with you? He was flirting with you. You waved your hand around before taking the vhs cassettes that he held out to you, "are you into Star Wars too?"
"Me? O-oh yeah," he wasn't outwardly lying but he was definitely fibbing. He'd seen the movies, watched them at a movie night with Eddie and Robin, but honestly, he'd slept through a good amount of them, "totally."
"Cool," you bit your lip in a way Steve was sure would kill him slowly, "which one is your favorite?"
"The one with the…little bears?" And then you laughed, loud and bold, as he smiled sheepishly.
"Ewoks," you sweetly corrected him, "so Return of the Jedi."
"Yup…"
"You haven't seen Star Wars, have you?" You were definitely enjoying this, especially the way the pretty boy was squirming under your gaze.
"I have!" He countered, "I…might have slept through most of it but I've seen the movies!"
"Well," you rocked back and forth on your heels, "you should give them another watch if you're ever up for it. They can be pretty funny."
"If you say they are, they must be good," the two of you walked back to the counter where he began to check you out - in more ways than one. But he was still trying to keep it respectful, "do you have an account or do you need to create one?"
"I actually just moved to town a few weeks ago," you swallowed the lump in your throat and caught his pretty honey brown eyes, "so I'll need to make one."
"Alright," this was good, he decided. You had no preconceived notions of him from the sound of it, "can I just get your name and number?"
"Are you asking for the account or yourself?" Something was causing you to feel bold. Judging from the expression on his face you'd read the signs right.
"What if I said both?" He teased right back, finding it easy to slip back into flirting with you.
"I'd say yes," you grinned at him, "and that I'm free on Friday night after five."
"It's a date," he said, nervous for your response. But oh, he was already so invested in you and wanted to know everything and anything about you.
"It's a date."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
And one date turned into two and then three, and then countless others. Almost a year later and you were thoroughly and deep in love with your boyfriend, Steve Harrington.
He was so different from you, but the two of you meshed so well. Plus, unlike anyone you'd ever dated before, Steve tried and he cared. And he showed that he did. He tried to understand your interests and loves and you did the same to him.
Plus, it was really cute when he tried to understand all of your Star Wars and other nerdy interests. But it was the sheer love and enthusiasm that he did it with that made you love him all that much more. And - if you really wanted a deep conversation about such things - you had his (and now your) friends Eddie and Dustin.
Steve was over at your apartment for the night, and you'd gone to make some popcorn for the movie the two of you had agreed on for the evening. When you walked back into the room, you found him studying your bookshelves curiously.
"Anything interesting?" You asked as he started slightly with a pink flush welling up in his cheeks. You set the bowl down on your desk and walked over to him, standing behind and wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt him relax into your touch as he put a hand on top of yours, and you pressed a row of kisses to his shoulder.
"Everything about you is interesting," he stated sincerely as you snorted in amusement. He took your hand and gently turned around so he was facing. He was pretty, so pretty that it still managed to take your breath away at times. Those honey brown eyes, soft smile, and the freckles you loved kissing one by one. 
"Stevie," you chided him softly although there was no malice behind your words. He exhaled softly before pressing his lips to your forehead. You sighed contentedly, "I love you."
"I love you," he nudged his nose against yours before inching you closer to the bookshelf. He pointed to a few books that had caught his eye as you just smiled at him, "but these seem very interesting. Not as interesting as you, of course."
"You're so sweet," you carded a hand through his hair, "you're more than welcome to borrow them at any time. What's mine is yours, honey boy."
"I don't know," he said quietly, "don't know if I'm quite smart enough for all of that."
"You are," you insisted softly, "you are so much smarter than you give yourself credit for! Even if you don't believe you are right, believe me. I would never lie to you."
Steve practically melted under your praise, even though to you it was just the truth. You knew the Steve of now, the kind hearted and golden man you'd fallen in love with. 
"Thank you," he whispered as you pulled him into a hug, lightly swaying your bodies back and forth. You let go of him before pulling a few books off the shelf, ones you were sure he would enjoy.
"Try these," you really were the brightest spot in his life. A ray of sunshine on even his darkest and cloudiest days, "and let me know what you think."
"I will," he promised, "hey, I have an idea-"
"Uh oh," you teased, a bemused lilt to your voice, "that's even a good sign."
"Hey!" But the two of you were giggling at each other, "I was going to suggest watching Star Wars. Figured I could give it another shot."
"Really?!" Your eyes lit up like Christmas lights as you tried to contain your excitement. You'd never pushed him to watch them again so the fact that he was offering made your heart happy. He nodded eagerly and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, "you're the best! I hope you'll like them this time around! But if you get bored or whatever, just let me know."
"I will," he tugged you towards the bed. In his your absence, he'd already missed the vhs tapes out of the cabinet. He'd bought them for you a few months after you'd started dating so you didn't have to keep borrowing them from Family Video. He was so thoughtful, "but I have a feeling I'll like them this time around. I've got the best company."
"I'll try to shut up," you held up your fingers in a scout salute, "but I cannot promise to avoid all commentary."
"I would expect nothing else," he turned on the television and put in the first tape as you made yourself comfortable in the bed, "what's your favorite character again? Booba or something?"
"Boba Fett!" You were laughing as Steve shrugged and grabbed the remote to join you, "he's the best and one day, people will realize that and see how underrated he is!"
"I'm sure they will," he set the bowl of popcorn between the two of you as he pressed play, "now sit back and enjoy, angel."
"I will," you snuggled up to him, "because I'm watching my favorite movies with my favorite person!"
And yeah. Steve loved the sound of that. 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Steve had an idea. An idea that involved your birthday, a lot of planning and assistance from his friends, and you. Or in other words - Steve planned a Star Wars themed surprise birthday party for you. He hoped you’d like it and wouldn’t find it too much or over the top. He got the sense that you didn’t place too much stock into your birthday considering you hadn’t even mentioned. He found out accidentally when you’d asked me to grab your ID for you. You’d insisted that he didn’t need to do anything special, but that wasn’t going to stop him. 
Steve had picked you up after work and took you to his and Robin’s apartment, under the guise of having a quiet night in. He’d already sent you flowers at work and gotten you a card and a cute little cupcake, which was more than enough for you. You just needed him and nothing less.
You were trailed behind Steve as he unlocked the door, talking about something random. You’d noticed he was a little jumpy today, but you weren’t going to question it. 
“Come on,” he motioned for you to step inside; the apartment was dark so you figured Robin wasn’t home. You went to flick on the light and were instantly met with a chorus of surprise!
Your friends jumped out of their hiding places, as you took a moment to calm your racing heart. You looked around at everything, and found yourself almost tearing up; the whole apartment was decorated and there was food, a cake, and a small pile of presents. 
“You guys,” you quickly wiped away the tears as you looked at all of them, “what’s all this for?”
“Your birthday,” Steve stood behind you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. He paused for a moment before whispering softly, “I hope this is okay. But I wanted to do something special for you.”
“This is…wonderful,” you turned around, “thank you, Steve. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he gently nudged you towards everyone, “happy birthday, angel.”
“Thank you all much,” you grinned at your friends, “I’m so happy to see you all!”
Eddie threw on some music and it was only then that you noticed that everything was Star Wars themed. Everyone was having a good time eating, drinking, and hanging out. It made your heart so happy.
The best of all was the little stuffed ewok that was sitting next to the cake. You walked over it and lightly picked it up, holding it to your chest; you knew exactly who it was from. You turned around and from across the room Steve caught your eye. His smile lit up his entire face as you held up the little ewok. He excused himself from his conversation and came over to you, “do you like it?”
“I love him,” you grinned, “I love this little bear from that one Star Wars movie. And I love you even more.”
“I love you,” he peppered your face in kisses, “happy birthday, angel.”
And it was the happiest of birthdays. The first of many.
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pale-opal · 1 month
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Heya! How long have you been writing for? And also, what inspired you to do so? Also any tips for new writers?
Hello! I would say that I have been writing since... well, since always, really. But I only started getting serious about it in middle school. I was inspired by a lot of the books that I read, and as I got older and started becoming aware of the processes authors used to write their stories, and I noticed that some of them didn't really use outlines: they just started with whatever idea they came up with in their head. And at some point I must've thought to myself: "Hey, I come up with stories in my head all the time! I could totally write a book!" (I did try doing that at one point - I never finished it. But I'm kind of glad I didn't. The story I wrote was a hot mess.) I do have a few tips for new writers: 1. If you have an idea, write it down - Ideas are all well and good, but that's all they are: ideas. They can't do anything until they get out of your brain.
2. Take breaks frequently - Ironically enough, taking breaks is just as important as writing whenever you can. Breaks are key for preventing burnout (which is the death of manuscripts and fanfictions everywhere), and for keeping up with your health and preventing conditions like carpal tunnel. Not only that, but if you're having difficulty with something you've been working on for a while, stepping away from it and coming back after a few hours can give you "fresh eyes", and let you examine your work with a new perspective (this works for just about any creative pursuit, really. I've personally found it helpful when doing art (walking away for an hour or two has saved so many drawings from being scrapped)).
3. Use prompts to practice - If you want to write, but don't know what to write about, prompts are a good way to get started or to warm up! I've found that writing-based bingo boards are a good way to find a lot of interesting prompts in one go.
4. Read as much as you can - Reading can be really helpful in learning about new subject matter and expanding your vocabulary. Not only that, but what you read influences your creative voice. If you like the way a certain writer writes their characters, settings, prose, etc. and you want your work to be more like theirs, try reading more of their work if you can. There's nothing wrong with wanting your work to reflect what inspires you.
5. Experiment with other genres - What genre a story is in can have a large impact on how characters behave and what the setting looks like. For example, a person is going to act a lot differently in a zombie apocalypse than they would in a coffee shop AU. If you want to get a good grip on how a character acts and what their personality is like, try throwing them into a different genre.
6. Write from experience and personal knowledge - The saying "Write what you know" can apply to both one's life experiences and what they are aware of from an academic standpoint, and doing so can help make what you write seem more believable. For instance, if I knew a lot about plants, that information might come in handy for doing something like coming up with a plant-based metaphor, or if I wanted to write a character that was a botanist. On the other hand, if I knew what it was like to be left at the altar, I might use that to write that same event as part of a character's backstory. However, if there is something that you've experienced that was hard to process, think carefully before writing about it. It's like method acting: it can be really effective and even therapeutic, but it can also cause you harm if you're not careful. 7. Don't be afraid to look up synonyms - If you find yourself using the same word over and over, see if that word has any applicable synonyms. Google is honestly so very useful in this regard. It's been of so much assistance to me that it's gotten to the point where I am starting to wonder if the Oxford English Dictionary (which is where Google pulls definitions from) has ever saved a life. But try to keep connotations in mind. "Small", "little", and "itty-bitty" all mean the same thing, but they read differently, and that difference can become highly apparent in different contexts. For example, "Joel was little" has its own vibe in comparison to "Joel was itty-bitty."
8. Show your writing to others - This is something that I struggled with for a while, and still have issues with sometimes. However, something that I have found to be helpful is showing my work to someone who I'm close with. What might be considered a harsh criticism from someone else feels a lot less intimidating when it's coming from someone who you've known for a while. Not only that, but there is a good chance that they'll catch a mistake you made that you didn't notice while working on it, or even if you check over your work yourself (that's just the sad truth of looking at something for a long time, even if you take breaks - things start to blend together). That's about it. I didn't think that my answers to your questions would make for such a long post, but I hope that you found this helpful!
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where-theres-smoak-2 · 10 months
Text
I'm a ship and let ship kind of girl but one thing that does grind my gears a bit is those antis who deliberately tag there anti sylki posts in the sylki tag. I have got way too many newly blocked accounts since the finale its kind of disheartening and also annoying, its not that hard to probably tag your posts.
But anyway there were quite a few posts of antis gloating about a couple of interviews that Sophia did and claiming that she hates the sylki ship so I figure ok lets talk about these interviews. Here's the first one:
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First off the part saying Sophia isn't super into the idea of sylki as a couple isn't a direct quote from Sophia, so this could be the interviewer paraphrasing or it could be the interviewers interpretation on Sophia's comments, either as its not a direct quote and I don't know what the context is I am taking that part with a whole handful of salt and disregarding it.
What Sophia did say was that sylki is weird because they variants of the same person and also that with everything they have gone through the relationship is complicated. It seems like antis saw the word weird and went oh bad, she must mean she hates them but when you actually look at the definition of the word weird it doesn't necessarily mean something bad. The definition from Cambridge dictionary is: very strange and unusual, unexpected, or not natural. The Merriam-Webster definition is: of strange or extraordinary character, of, relating to, or caused by witchcraft or the supernatural. Which lets be honest fits Sylki, they are unusual, strange, unexpected, extraordinary and you could argue with the whole variant thing its got that supernatural element to it as well. I mean them being weird is what makes them fun and entertaining to watch so honestly I'm not mad that she said they were weird.
Another thing to bear in mind is that we don't know the question that goes with this answer for all we know it could have been a very leading question like don't you think its weird they are both variants of the same person, or what do you think of shipping in general, we don't know so we don't have a whole lot of context even with her direct quote. But to me Sophia's answer just seems to be your standard diplomatic, vague, non-committal answer that most actors give when asked about ships which is I like my character and I want the best for them. Sadly we live in a world now where actors have to be very careful and ambiguous when talking about ships because if they say something that upsets one side they may get sent hate, from what I've heard Sophia has already been sent death threats and had other hate hurled at her so it would make sense to me that she wouldn't want to give anything but vague answers to any questions about ships.
But say Sophia really isn't that into Sylki as a romantic pairing, so what? She's allowed to like or dislike a pairing on a tv show just like anyone else, even if she's playing one half of the pairing. She wouldn't be the first actor to dislike a ship they are a part of or to prefer a different pairing for their character. She's a person like everyone else and she's allowed to have likes and dislikes and her own opinions. But trying to argue that the Sylki ship is dead because Sophia may or may not (seeing as this interview doesn't confirm either way) like the ship is absurd to me. Especially as we've already had the head writer and producer of the show confirm that they are canon and that it was their romance that was driving the show. Seeing as they are the ones that write the show and decides what happens, I think I'm ok if Sophia thinks the ship is weird somehow. Now if the producer of the show said that they didn't intend for my ship to be romantic and wrote them as just friends I might be upset and think my ship was dead. Luckily for me that isn't the case.
The other interview I've seen antis throwing about as evidence that Sophia hates the ship is this one where she is talking about their kiss:
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This one just baffles me even more. Personally I just don't understand how someone reads this and jumps to she hates the ship and the ship is dead. They were the ones saying the kiss was nothing but a trick, a distraction. Now here we've got Sophia saying the same thing Sylki shippers were saying which is the kiss was more of a good bye kiss. Honestly I love what she said about how it was a thank you and a good bye, it showed how much of an impact Loki made on her, heartbreakingly though it just wasn't enough to break through that need to complete her mission. To be fair this mission was something that had fuelled her throughout her entire life, that pain and those scars left from HWR and the TVA run too deep, really she needed alot more time with Loki before being able to choose him over that mission, maybe if they had more time together before facing HWR it would have gone differently but sadly we'll never know. Sophia recently said in another interview that there is an unspoken agreement between Sylki that they can't kill each other. Which is what makes this moment so tragically beautiful in a way, she knows she can't let her mission go, but she also knows that he won't let her kill HWR, and she also knows that she can't kill Loki so in her eyes her only option was to push him through that time door. She knows that will break their relationship so she just wants one kiss, one moment to say thank you and to say goodbye. Sorry but this isn't what a dead ship looks like to me. A slightly broken one maybe but not dead.
Ok so this is off topic but its something I am curious about. This is more to do with what I saw in the main Loki tag so unrelated to the antis mis-tagging their hate posts, I don't want to lump regular Loki/mobius shippers in with them. But I saw some posts talking about there being a track named L*kius and some shippers felt they had been baited because there was a track on the official sound track with their ship name but the producers were saying it was meant as a friendship and even I thought that was an odd choice on the Loki teams part, but then I've just been listening to the official soundtrack by Natalie Holt, its as amazing as last seasons by the way so if you get the chance I would recommend checking it out, but there is no track on there with that name. I checked the official track list titles as well and I'm not seeing it. So what happened there, was someone trolling that fandom? In which case not cool, or was it just misinformation that was spread, I'm very confused because there were screenshots that looked legit. Saying that I was listening to an epic cover of the track titled Ascension on the official soundtrack pre-release and they had named it glorious purpose seeing as the official name of the track hadn't been released yet, so maybe this was the same situation? It was just a placeholder name by whoever uploaded it? I never listened to the one with the ship name that was being posted about in the main tag so I am curious as to whether it is a track on the official soundtrack but now has a different name?
So wrapping it up, those are my thoughts on Sophia's interviews, the official soundtrack for season 2 is amazing and everyone should go listen to it and ship whatever you like but please, please can people tag their posts correctly because my finger is starting to ache from constantly hitting the block button.
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Fuck i fucking love your art smmmm
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Berserk boi
QUICK GIVE ME ALL YOUR BERSERK CACAOO HCSSS
Oh my god! Thank you so much! This totally made my day <33333
I'm so sorry this took so long, I've been really busy lately :(
(TW for gore mention)
So actually I headcanon that his berserk form is connected to his soul jam. Kind of like a little side effect. Y'know what use is a sword if not to harm others? If not to shed blood? (and also this sword hurts its owner too!) and it's the soul jam of resolution which is also dictionary definition, literally a firm decision that you're unwavering in. If Dark Cacao ever goes back on his decision to take the sword, guess what! He goes berserk until it consumes all of his life force and kills him. woo. 
He used to be able to control the berserk form a little, being able to turn partially into it to fight and stuff. He did lose the power to do so as he got older. Turning into his half-form and full form basically torturing him every time he tried to use it. It also completely removes pretty much all mental capacity for intelligent thought, so he can't use it in a "productive" way even if he wanted to. Basically just blind destruction with no distinction between friend or foe. 
(^that's actually the concept for the drawing you saw)
Personally, I have his berserk form more or less as kind of an allegory for illness, a physical manifestation of internal pain. He was making it a fuel to keep going instead of actually confronting the “bad stuff” that happened. He was taking how it hurt him and using that to keep going, instead of confronting it head-on and getting it to stop hurting him. Eventually, he couldn't keep doing this, it was destroying him and he was losing control. So now, he couldn’t use it for anything, aka, his pain isn't useful anymore. Anyway, he does still transform into his berserk form (albeit unintentionally) but only during times of extreme stress and triggers like certain sounds, textures, and tastes. It's also triggered through more physical means, if he stands too long his legs start turning to smoke, if he fights too long his eyes glow white, it's torture every time. In very special cases (Pomegranate Cookie) he goes full berserk, it usually takes him out for weeks, unable to do much, hardly able to take care of himself, much less able to make himself useful as a king or as a warrior.
Actually, after he stopped going berserk back in book 14, I think he was cut open pretty much everywhere underneath his armor. His guts were spilling out, and were barely contained by his armor. It basically cut him almost completely in half. He still managed to fight afterwards, obviously at great personal cost, but he was still able to fight. Weeks after, he could barely move, he was stuck in bed, and even small things like sitting up were a huge struggle. The only reason he's not dead is because of his soul jam, the same reason he was cursed in the first place. His immortality at the cost of eternal suffering and the like.
After book 14, he forces enough energy to attend the council of heroes (AKA Cookie Odyssey chapter 1) but the smallest things keep setting him off, turning him slightly berserk every time. He is spending every second he can lying down in his tent. It prevents his wounds from healing, and it also keeps him from thinking clearly. When he tried killing Clotted Cream the, admittedly very little, healing that was done was immediately reversed. He ended up barely functioning, with the only reason he was able to continue with the council was because Hollyberry noticed him limping and had Pure Vanilla heal him. Which only did so much, because it’s…A curse that's both caused by and stopped by his immortality, and you can't just fix that without probably killing him instantly. So, he doesn’t have a permanent solution, and he’s stuck with this until the end of time.
Thank you again for the ask. It was really fun to do! Sorry again for taking so long to finish it :(
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marvus-xoloto · 2 years
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If you’re still in a writing mood I was wondering if you could write a cute drabble based on a headcanon I have. I feel like when Mallek is drunk he’s not the boyfriend that waits at the door for you in the bathroom when you have to pee, he’s the boyfriend who follows you in and sits down resting his head on the sink. 😂 alternatively for you Marvus gives off the vibes that he would watch you pee, not for a kink just cause he’s peak weirdo energy
I p much completely misremembered the prompt while I was writing lmfao; I have another post I'm drafting for you just as a lil response bc I loved this prompt. I'm dealing with my own seasonal depression so I guess that's what I ended up writing. I'm sorry this isn't my best work; this was hard to write and honestly harder to post, but hey maybe it is something! I'm really not sure; it's hard for me to judge this time of year.
Just to clarify, I headcanon that trolls go to fight the horrible space war when they're about 21 years old / ~10 sweeps.
___
In Vino Veritastic
Pairing: Mallek/MSPAR | Rating: T | Words: 1684 | Content Warnings: angst, emetophobia (briefly), mentions of alcoholism/ substance abuse, mentions of depression, Alternia is terrible | AO3 Link on @chunky-ruckus, check the reblogs!
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Mallek is capital-S, complete with italics, dictionary definition Sloshed.
It wasn't apparant to you at first. The trashed hive? Mallek is a bit of a slob. The signs of stumbling around like a daywalker at midnight? Mallek isn't a morn- uh, evening person.
You noticed his shoes peeking over the top of his gamer chair.
He swiveled around like a super villan, all slow grace.
Mallek slurped on something frozen, his expression intensely blank, his cheeks hollow.
While hanging upside down in his gamer chair.
"Did you know these things are alcoholic?" he asked. And then he fell out of his chair, snorted out a half amused sound, and then, like the lusus he takes after, slithered slowly down onto the floor.
___
Your first plan ws to go to the kitchen. The best remedy for an impending hangover: ice water, your coup de glace.
But the kitchen is a complete mess: sink overflowing, fridge and freezer empty. Mallek is a bit of a slob. Mallek is not an evening person.
So now, in present tense, you are in the bathroom, waiting for the tap to cool down. It's early in the dim season: cold weather and cold blood means that Mallek's been down in his basement again, fucking with the water heater.
And now, in present tense, Mallek is capital-S, capital-everything, SLOSHED is outside the bathroom door. Pestering you.
"What are you doing drinking on a Tuesday?" you ask. Mallek is shoving his face through the gap in the door, features pouty like a sad puppy. You almost regret soft locking the door with a pile of his dirty laundry.
You hear a thump against the door and look over: he's shrugging with all of his strength, a caricature of apathy.
"It was me and Diemen," he says. "He wouldn't share his shit."
"You know he doesn't share-" you scramble for the worst meat-related amalgamation you can think of, "his Juicy Dripping Sausage with just anyone."
Mallek visably deflates. "Yeah." A beat of silence. "Well, the shady food stalls were his idea." Then he's pushing his way into the bathroom, sitting catty-corner to you against the wall. The dirty laundry sloshes against the tile floor disgustingly.
"Just going to walk in on me? What if I had been using the toilet instead of the tap?" He wouldn't be the first to see you like that. You like to pretend Alternia has beat the shame out of you by now, but you can still feel a slight flush creep up your neck.
"Guess I woulda stuck my head under the tap. Mighta been faster than whatever you're doing up there." He's not exactly slurring, but he is talking through wiping his nose on his sleeve. You add "laundry" to your mental load. God, why does Mallek bring out the Type-A in you so successfully?
"You woulda burned the shit out of yourself," you say, imitating his tone. "How do I turn this thing down?"
"Here," he says, scooting on his butt to push your legs out of the way, and then opening the cabinet beneath the sink. A bunch of hackey sacks spill out, and Mallek resolutely ignores them. You hear the mechanical clicking of something... mechanical. And then the water slowly goes from center of the planet hot to tepid enough.
Mallek wraps his arms around your legs, smiling a wobbly smile; watch out Charlie Brown. You pass him the glass of water and he drinks like a man dying. Of consumption. He's starting to look pale around the edges, and not his normal punk, barely sleeps pale.
He leans in, now, to your knees. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was trying to knock you out. But you have to admit: he feels amazing. Cool skin and solid weight. He stands, climbing up your body like a very drunken, sun loving plant. He burps into your ear.
Amazingly drunk.
"I love you," he says, dragging his mouth and his words down your cheek.
In vino veritastic.
God. The elephant that has politely standing in the doorway has just barged its way into the room. And this is a small fucking bathroom; damn Mallek and his lack of foresight. And his love for confessions in dank ass, wet ass, inappropriate places. The man is a menace.
You'd both been circling this issue for a while now. You'd been expecting, who knows, a sweet smile and a love-you-no-big-deal-haha over a clown themed happy meal at the skate park. You'd even taken to bringing a little candle with you- stolen from last month's midnight massacre- just to give him that romantic push.
You weren't expecting. This. Earnesty and alcohol and the clear signs that Mallek is going through it.
Mallek takes the rest of his icey, alcoholic abomination from inside his hoodie pocket- the man is a menace- and slurps it up with a little moan of delight.
Another sound you'd thought you'd hear in a different context.
"Marry me," he says- you're stupified, dumbfounded- before he sinks to his knees and is violently ill in the toilet.
Your fears about being walked in on are completely baseless; suddenly, you feel very much like you walked in on Mallek.
"How do you even know what human marriage is?"
"Diemen mentioned it." You have a sudden flashback to asking Diemen if you were married now, after he let you have a mustard packet he'd been saving, and the hour long explanation of human romance and customs that followed. You'd thought the moony eyed look he gave you was just... just that. His normal, moony eyed look. Guess you made an impression with that one, good going past you. Checkov's gun shoots you in the foot again.
"You know it's a, uh," Mallek interrupts you with a look up from the rim of the bowl, expression suddenly hard. The L'Ange Dechu, peering at you from behind his black, snotty sleeve. "Pretty serious. Commitment?" you squeak.
Mal'Ange Dechu does that thing again, that sad puppy visably deflating. In a fit of stressed induced hysteria, you remember that video of that pudding shaped like a little puppy, and the spoon cutting through it. Mallek is that pudding puppy, and you are the spoon.
He leans his head in the crook of his elbow. You realize the tap is still running. Out of habit, you refill the glass.
"They always leave," he says, spitting in the bowl. "After drone season."
"It's not drone season now, is it?" You aren't sure, but, hey, nobody has made the moves on you lately, so it's probably as good a guess as any. "I'm here now, aren't I?" You slink down to the floor with him, soothing him with your hand on his back. "I want to be with you," you say softly, sick of the elephant in the room. "So, I'll stay, no matter the season."
He arches into your touch, sighing. "No you won't," he says, not looking at you. You try again but Mallek is gripping the rim of the toilet like he's possessed. "No," he repeats emphatically. "You won't. Because whether you leave again-" it just now occurs to you that the same time has passed here as on earth, when you were on your personal quest to pester. You wonder how that effected Mallek; you never thought to ask- "or not, I will. At the end of my ten sweeps, I'll be sent out to space."
You pass him the water, and he drinks. Tepid trails leak from the corner of his mouth, and you wipe one away with your thumb, cupping his jaw.
"I've been known to teleport," you say, trying for humor. Or charm. Or anything- anything!- to change the tone of this conversation.
Which is unnecessary because Mallek is sick again.
"I don't want you to see me like that," he says sadly from the toilet.
I'm already seeing you like this, you say to yourself. But you don't say it outloud, just in case it hurts his feelings. Instead, you try for charm again. "I'm sure you'll be the same Mallek. Fighting with everything you've got." You wiggle your fingers at him. "Subterfuging and being rebellious."
Mallek stares at you, contemplating. "I'm tired," he says simply. You understand the shades of meaning. "You know, we only really get to be ourselves on Alternia. That's how it is for all trolls." His face falls. "Topside, it's like we're all just acting in the empire sanctioned play."
"No robo-buddies in space," you say.
"No robo-buddies in space," he repeats, but his tone is light. "Lots of clowns, though."
"You know, good plays are made great through improv." Mallek doesn't react, and you notice he's got his eyes closed.
You guess there were less shades of meaning to I'm tired than you thought.
You help him stand up, your own personal squirm-on-a-string. As you take him to his respiteblock, you have to reconsider your wording: squirm-on-a-string sounds dirty when you're stripping him down to his boxers, throwing his ruined hoodie into the incinerator.
With your combined efforts, he drops into his coon with a goopy splash. Whether through hind brain instinct or some deep need to be comforted, he immediately curls his arms around his chest, loose with drowsiness.
You stroke his hair, kiss him on the temple.
"So does this mean we're married now, since I've cleaned up your vomit, undressed you, and put you to bed?" He laughs once- a single ahuh- but it's a genuine laugh so you'll take the W on this one.
You pull back to leave, and he grabs you by the hip. He looks up at you; the dark circles under his eyes in stark releif at this angle.
"Do you love me?" he slurs, trying in vain to stay awake.
You don't have to think about it. "I do."
But he's already asleep.
You know this about people. About Mallek specifically. It's not just planets that go through seasons. As the sky turns darker, so, too, does Mallek.
Well, if you're the guy with powers from a sun, why not? Why not try?
You start with the kitchen.
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walder-138 · 4 months
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What does the word "friend" means to you?
Do you prefer to show affection first, or to receive affection first?
What are you searching for in people?
For Annika and Oz please!! <3 have a lovely day darl!
Hi Goose! I’m gonna have the asshole twins answer these questions for you!
Oz: “What do you mean? Someone who uh, is a buddy? Y’know, you watch the hockey game with ‘em, pop open a ice cold beer, and just, hangout y’know? You don’t gotta worry none ‘bout looking and acting all nice and fancy. You can just, y’know, be. And if it don’t feel like you can just BE around them, then they ain’t friends. Is that good enough?” (his dumbass doesn’t know 💀)
Annika: “Bitch, don’t you have a dictionary? I-“
*elbows her*
“Fuck was that for? Ohhhh you want the philosophical answer? Of course you do. Cheesy shit, I understand. A friend means someone who you will do anything for. Including, but not limited to violating restraining orders, torture, blackmail, and showing up to her house uninvited because SHE WON’T CALL ME BACK. IT’S BEEN 3 YEARS YELENA. YOU TOLD ME HE CHEATED ON YOU SO I LEFT HIS BEHEADED CORSPE ON YOUR PATIO. RETURN MY CALLS 😡🤬” (Maybe Adler did the right thing with this one 💀)
Next question:
Oz: “I guess I’d rather give then get. I don’t know, the feeling of someone’s hand on my cheek or sum’ reminds me how much I don’t deserve it. I’ve fucked up too many times to let myself have that love.” (Oz hates hugging from people he doesn’t know, but if it’s like his gf or Jenny dudebro will not let go. Like if they hugged him out of nowhere he WILL multitask. It doesn’t matter what he was doing beforehand. He’s the best hugger out there. I’m on the fence about giving him a girlfriend or anything cause it’s him, but I definitely wanna explore his love life sooner or later.)
Annika: “Neither, I’m not a pussy.” (Liar. Just LOOK AT HER. Annika loves being the center of somebody’s attention. She’s the biggest cuddlebug known to man. Annika definitely prefers receiving. She won’t admit it, but she LOVES laying on people. It’s the only time she shuts up. If some unfortunate woman had to share a bed with her, Annika’s gonna end up clinging onto her in her sleep. She’s definitely an affection-biter)
Next Question:
Oz: “I’m assuming you mean like in a romantic way. I don’t usually seek anyone. Same thing as last question, don’t feel like I’ve earned it yet. I’ve gotta get my head in shape, and I ain’t putin’ any ladies through my shit. Made that mistake with Jenny’s mom.
If I were normal? Definitely want someone good with kids. Jenny’s the only good thing I have in this world, and there ain’t no floozie bouta drive me apart from her. None of that “I hate kids” bullshit around me. People act like kids are different species. No, they just don’t give enough shits to actually listen to them. Also like me a woman who ain’t too shabby at sports, and can give me a run for my money.” (I should send him to therapy)
Annika: “What I search for in people is loyalty. I don’t care who you are, where you came from, but loyalty always overpowers everything else. If you can’t pledge loyalty to one cause, then why should I think you have my best interest in heart? At least if I disagree with you, I know you’re not a coward. The only thing worse than cowardice is treachery. If you conform with a group’s ideal, how do I know you think for yourself?” (girl can go from unhinged to well-spoken in seconds 💀)
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mugeesworld · 2 years
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Women
Little disclaimer: I've never got good grades in English. So this might not make sense/suck. Before you read this I would like you to know. This is not me shitting on men. This is not me shitting on every other gender. This is simply me telling what my definition/view on women is. If you take the time to read this I hope you enjoy. Ty.
This is literally just me blabbing about how women a beautiful and the shitty beauty standard.
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A plural noun for: woman
Woman
Pronounced as: wom-an/ woomen
an adult female human being.
Synonymous/Similar: lady, adult female, female
If you couldn't tell by reading it, the few words above me is what is considered the definition to describe a woman/women.
It's not wrong. I would be crazy to say that the dictionary it's self is wrong, but that being said...
The few words labeled above to describe a woman to me are simply not enough. As it is correct, no words can truly describe what a woman is. For a woman is described differently by different people. Every persons perspective on what a women is, is different. Even by the smallest of detail.
But obviously I can't read minds and come up with a conclusion of the "true" definition myself.
But what I can do is share how I see the beautiful beings we call women. Not only as one, but as someone that also finds them attractive and appreciates them.
Women are elegant, gorgeous, even god like beings. Coming in all different forms. Ranging from different skin colors, to different body types. Those being their most obvious features at a first glance but really taking the time to savior and take in their elegance you can see that every single one has something truly special about them.
Every single one.
That being said every single woman is beautiful. The true definition of beauty it's self. Something so breathtaking and gorgeous that it is hard to hold eye contact or stare cause they are just radiating beems of light and beauty. But still staring at cause you can't bring yourself to look away. Scared that you will never see true beauty such as ones self ever again.
I can't imagine looking at a woman and thinking in my head that she is ugly. Out of jealousy or hate? Maybe. But I know that's not being honest with myself. To look at a woman and say such a thing is nothing but utter nonsense. Cause every single one is beautiful. No just for their looks. Not just cause they have a "curvy" figure. But because they are truly beautiful inside and out.
They might say hurtful things. But that's just a act. That's a self defense mechanism cause someone told them other wise. Someone lied to them so they say and act in such hurtful ways.
Beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes. From short and skinny, tall and muscular, or medium hight and plus size. Even though they have visible difference in their appearance they all share at least one thing in common. They are all beautiful women. Damn right they are. They should be proud to be also.
Cause the word woman it's self has been used as a insult for ages.
"Stop acting like a girl"
"You scream like a girl"
"It's not very woman like to-"
Etc
It's ok to act like a girl. It's ok to scream like a girl. That being said it's ok to not "act like a girl"
Cause the average girl has been stereotyped to be weak, small, frail, shy, vulnerable. It's ok to be those things but it's not ok to try and be those things. To force yourself to follow said stereotypes. Cause that's not you. You don't have to be all those things for validation.
And if you've been told that you need to then im here to tell you that you fucking don't. You're perfect. No matter what. No matter your looks or personality. You don't have to change to fit these ridiculous stereotypes. I can not preach that enough.
Who gives a fuck if you don't have a "beach body" or the perfect Kim Kardashian figure. EVERY BODY IS A BEACH BODY. Kim is pretty don't get me wrong but so are you. You know why? You should by now by I'll tell you again. Because you are you. You are different. You are special. For the love of fucking god. I feel like a lawyer try to state my case to the jury. Your honor my client is the most gorgeous person ever that's all I gotta say!
These fucking standards to be short and skinny and curvy are utter bullshit. Do you know who made those standards??? Do you? Fat old men. Trust me. Why in the hell should you care what a old man that's gonna die soon anyways think about your body.
And let me tell you something. This things we have that's called being "attractive" is bull crap. Cause all over the world. Their are different standards that are set. That you have to be this or you have to be that to be considered beauty.
Beauty to me is something that makes a person special. What makes them different? Are they trying to fit this standard or are they truly being themselves and having that special feature show. Cause if they do have that special thing showing its easy to walk up to any person and point out what Makes them special and different from the rest. It's like a game to me. Instead of just people watching. Look at a person and see if you can see something special about them.
Beauty is accomplished by being yourself. Around the world people go through crazy, sometimes torturous methods to be "beautiful"
To crushing your feet to be as small as a child's.
To have rings around your neck
To have a big gauge in your lip
I seen one yesterday that they make children starting at very very young ages eat insane amounts of food to make them gain weight. Forcing they to indulge in crazy portions. So they can find a husband when they are older. Cause being fat is the "beauty standard" for them.
If you think that's wrong then what makes it ok to flip that around and not eat. To torture your body by not giving it the nutritionts it needs to live. What Makes that so bad but what we are doing ok???
I could go on and on (this isn't me hating on cultures at all. This is me explaining that "beauty" is a mere goal that is set. I understand completely that it's tradition for some tribes and cultures. It's non of my business and ik not hating. Once again just a example.)
If you don't get it yet the beauty standard is a myth. It's something that is set to torture and brain wash you into thinking you have to be a certain way to be perceived as beautiful.
So why are you doing this to yourself? Why don't you make your own perception of beauty. I do. I explained mine. That everyone is beautiful in their own way that makes them who they are.
So why don't you just be you? Please tell me.
I know what I've said can be controversial but it's my opinion and I hope you can respect it. Actually. I don't care if you respect it or agree with it. Cause it's my definition. It's my true thoughts.
What's your definition of women and beauty?
I hope you enjoyed reading this if you got this far. And I hope if you don't already, understand that you deserved to be loved. You deserve to be cherished. You are beauty. You are you. No matter what. So please don't change that. Not for anyone. You're valid. In every way possible. And if you haven't heard it today yet then.... I love you and I'm glad such a beautiful person such as your self breaths the same air as me. So thank you. Thank you for being you and walking the same earth as I do. You rock.
I'm very embarrassed to post this. But. I'll leave you with this:
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ruinationz · 2 years
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hey girl so i wrote a tadc oneshot even if the damn series isn't even out yet (leans on my expensive car and slips on the hood and breaks my face)
actual story under the cut if you want to read (warning for injury mention? also kind of a CW i make caine talk in all caps so if you don't exactly like that uhj don't read)
me when i also use a character from a teased image and don't refer to them by name:
"...WELL, I THINK WE BOTH LEARNED SOMETHING FROM THAT EXPERIENCE!" Caine exclaimed, giving one of the many knives piercing a shaking Pomni a small tap. "WELL, FOLKS, WE'LL SEE YOU AFTER THIS SHORT INTERMISSION!"
The curtains closed on the digital audience, and Caine made his way backstage. "PHEW! I'M SHATTERED!" He exhaled, pulling out a checkered handkerchief from his infinite pocket and pressing it against his nonexistent forehead. "I THINK THAT WAS AN...INVIGORATING PERFORMANCE, NOW WASN'T IT, POMNI?" He asked, turning around to face his assistant.
"...POMNI?"
Caine found himself facing an empty stage, the jester nowhere to be seen. "..MY DEAR ASSISTANT, WHERE DID YOU GO? WE HAVE A SHOW TO PUT ON!"
"You're really making her perform again after all that?"
The ringmaster jumped at the voice of one of the human souls, and he turned around to face the tall, shape headed creature in a purple coat. "W-WELL, OF COURSE! WHY NOT?"
The cloaked one scoffed. "She can't just go back on. She's in pain because of your bad aim! How hard is it to hit a target with a knife?"
Now…that's a new one. "THAT'S...THAT'S NO WAY TO TALK TO YOUR RINGMASTER!" Caine exclaimed. "...PAIN...WHAT..."
"You...seriously don't know what pain is? Hurt? Agony? Discomfort?"
"U-UNFORTUNATELY, MY SYSTEM IS NOT YET FAMILIAR WITH THIS…THING YOU SPEAK OF…" Caine embarrassingly felt himself stammer out as he straightened his bow tie.
"Hmm. For an artificial intelligence, you sure aren't intelligent at all." The cloaked one quipped, pulling out a dictionary from one of the stray bookcases amongst the junk behind the stage. "Let me see...'pain'. 'Noun'. 'A feeling of physical suffering or discomfort caused by illness or injury.'"
Caine thought about that definition for a while. "BUT…HOW WOULD THAT AFFECT OUR NEXT PERFORMANCE? I HAVE QUITE THE TRICK PLANNED, AND I-"
"Let me put it in a way you’ll understand. Pain is when you feel bad inside and outside. You’ve had to have felt an equivalent of it at some point…"
The cloaked one turned back around. "Well, I’d best be off to wait before the intermission is over." He said, leaving Caine standing alone once more.
"…POMNI FEELS…'BAD'…BECAUSE OF ME…"
Bad was…bad. Bad was not good. No one should feel 'bad' at the Amazing Digital Circus! He was supposed to amaze! Entertain! But how could Caine help her not feel that way?
He immediately turned around and made his way to go find the jester. Maybe he could get an idea along the way.
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"OH, POMNI! ARE YOU IN HERE?" Caine called as he looked around for her, soon hearing sobs coming from one side of the room. "POMNI! THERE YOU ARE! I..."
He found himself trailing off as Pomni came into his view. She was sitting on a box and sobbing as she gingerly made attempts to pull the knives out of her body to no avail, crying harder with each failed attempt.
"...POMNI?"
The jester flinched and turned to stare at Caine with wide eyes. "W-Wuh-"
"MY DEAR ASSISTANT, I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU!" He said, approaching her as she made an attempt to back away from him. "I-I don't wanna g-go...! I...!" She stammered out, trying to curl herself up but stopping as she winced in pain.
"I'M NOT STARTING THE SHOW YET, POMNI. PLEASE, LET ME TRY AND HELP YOU..." He insisted, sitting down to meet her level.
Now, what to do...oh! I know! Caine snapped his fingers, and a first aid kit soon manifested into existence. "NOW, PLEASE HOLD STILL, MY ASSISTANT."
Letting out a shaky sigh, Pomni turned herself slowly towards him and shut her eyes.
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"AAAAND...DONE! THAT'S BETTER, RIGHT?" Caine asked cheerily, applying a final bandage to a now cleaned cut on Pomni's head. She opened her eyes and put a hand to her face, feeling the spots where knives once were. "I....yeah, I guess so...but...why?"
"WHY NOT?" He replied, using a needle to carefully stitch together a tear in her clothing. "I SIMPLY WANT THE BEST FOR MY...STAR PERFORMER!"
"Mm..." Pomni looked away and he watched as tears began to well up in her eyes again. "OH, MY DEAR! WHAT'S WRONG? HAVE I SAID SOMETHING YOU DISLIKED?"
The jester gave a small sniffle. "N-No, you didn't...i-it's....I...I don't...I don't k-know..."
He cut the thread of the needle and looked back up at her as he placed it back in the first aid kit. "AHH...PLEASE, DO NOT FRET, MY DEAR!" he reassured, closing the kit and taking one of her hands in his. "HMMM....SAY, HOW ABOUT I SHOW YOU A...SPECIAL MAGIC TRICK!" He suggested, thinking of something quick to cheer her up.
Carefully, he traced a small heart on the back of her hand with his index finger. "ABRA-CADABRA! NO MORE TEARS!" He recited while taking his hand away and waving it around, pretending to cast some grand magic upon her.
He looked back up at her as she broke into a smile and started laughing, a few stray tears streaming down. "NOW, THERE'S THE JESTER I KNOW!"
Caine stood back up and turned to leave. "JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU'RE READY TO GO BACK ON, MY DEAR!" He said, before leaving her alone once more.
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Pomni stared down at her hand and felt herself smile as she put her other on the back of it. "..Abra-cadabra..."
She wiped off her face and got up from the box, readying herself to go onstage once more.
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imikhailotakeyouian · 2 years
Text
WIP Wednesday
And last but not least, WIP Wednesday I was tagged in by my beloved Deena @suzy-queued <3
So, I'm currently working on 2 WIPs (well, other that 31 Days of Coffee) and thanks to Deena I started writing again Konyushyna, cause she helped me with a huge doubt I had and I am so happy I will publish this fic (whenever the heck I will finish it lol!)
Let's give you all an extract!
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Mikhailo wasn’t surely expecting for the tall redhead to sense that he was staring at him. But, yeah, he also guesses that a good soldier should also have a sort of instinct, right?
Furthermore, he didn’t anticipate the complete betrayal from his own body that refused to move an inch away the closer the redhead was getting.
And when the American soldier -now he can see the US Army badge- stops a few steps from him, he can also see all the freckles on his face and his body yet again refuses to move.
When he hears the soldier’s voice, then, he relaxes a bit. 
Mikhailo understands English pretty well -his speaking is not as good as his listening, though. His English speaking is definitely rusty and flawed due to the lack of practice, but he understands enough to hold basic conversations with American and English soldiers for sure.
He doesn’t respond only because along with his body, also his brain has short-circuited, so he can’t get himself around responding with a simple Hello.
Then the American soldier cheers him in his language and Mikhailo melts a bit. What the absolute fuck, he thinks, though. The man has just pronounced the simplest word in Ukrainian, he didn’t cast a fucking spell. He is a fucking Wolverine, he should get a fucking grip of himself.
But then the soldier starts talking super fast -just because he didn’t respond to him right away- and though Mikhailo understands English, that is just too fast for him. And he swears to himself that he is about to talk when he sees the redhead fetch a dictionary from one of the pockets of his cargo pants, so he stops again.
He is curious now.
When the redhead speaks with a broken -adorable- Ukrainian, he can’t stop the small smile from appearing on his face. He couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to.
Ian. Doctor. Selfless.
“Hello, Ian,” Mikhailo finally breaks the silence and the huge smile Ian gives him now, it’s the greatest reward he could receive for someone who has only pronounced two words.
“Hello!” Ian cheers gleefully and Mikhailo remembers that one time when they saved a puppy from a well and yet, it wasn’t as happy as Ian seems to be. “Do you speak English? Or-or, I can try, wait,” He grabs his dictionary again, so Mikhailo stops him with a low chuckle.
“I understand enough English,” the Wolverine starts. “I don’t speak well, but I understand.”
Ian seems relieved by that information. “Oh, you speak very well! Definitely better than my Ukrainian.”
“Definitely,” Mikhailo concurs and can’t help but grin a little.
Ian pretends to be outraged. “Hey, it’s my first day,” Ian laughs and then points at Mikhailo’s injury. “I can help you with that.”
Mikhailo touches his cheek instinctively and though he can’t hide the grimace on his face, he shakes his head a little. “It’s small.”
“It still needs to be cleaned, at least,” Ian offers and shows him the small first aid kit he is bringing along. “Let me help, please.”
Mikhailo looks at Ian and, well, if he spends some time with him he will be able to understand his reaction. He will be able to study him a little. “Ok.”
“Great!” Ian explodes in another big smile -Mikhailo didn’t know until that moment that someone could show so many teeth while smiling. “What’s your name?”
The Wolverine rolls his eyes -he wonders if his name will sound weird to an American, and so he rolls his eyes because who cares? It’s just a name and he has been weird since he has laid his eyes on Ian. “Mikhailo,” says eventually, shyly.
“Mikhailo,” Ian repeats, trying the pronunciation a few times. “Mikhailo?” He tries again.
Mikhailo nods and shrinks a bit between his shoulders.
“It’s such a beautiful name,” Ian says before nodding to a quiet place of the settlement with some benches and tables. “Come with me, let's check that cut.”
Mikhailo can’t do anything but follow Ian. How could he not?
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I tag @energievie @gallawitchxx @gallavichgeek @depressedstressedlemonzest @jomilky and whoever wants to share!
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simpofficial · 4 months
Text
I See You
SteddillyxOc
Chapter 7
Chapter6 Chapter8
"Did you have fun?" He took me to a park even if I barely spoke to him since we left Billy.
"Want Billy." Billy probably doesn't see me as a pet.
"What? Why?"
"You think I pet. Want Billy." I turn my face to him and cross my arms.
"Where did you hear that?"
"I want Billy."
"Sevyn talk to me. Where did you hear that?" I don't want to talk to him so I turn my body away from him and closer to the exit of the car. "Wait don't cry."
"I not cry. I want Billy."
"Okay. Okay just stop crying." I'm not. I reach up and feel my cheeks. Okay, I guess I am crying. "I'll call him." The car stops and Steve shuffled around.
"What, Harrington?" His voice is soothing.
"Sevyn is upset."
"What did you do?"
"I think she heard our conversation earlier." Obviously.
"How?"
"She's blind not deaf Hargrove." Deaf?
"Don't be a smart ass. Where is she?"
"Sevyn put this up to your ear." He grabs my hand and puts something in it. "It's a phone. You'll be able to hear Billy." I put the phone up to my ear.
"Billy?"
"Hey pretty girl. Why are you upset." I feel myself smiling.
"Steve think I pet. Want you."
"I need you to listen to me for a second okay?" I hum.
"Okay."
"He doesn't think you're a dog. I promise you that."
"You said puppy. Puppy is dog. You lie."
"Hey don't say that. I'm not lying. Plus puppy can be a nickname." I tilt my head in confusion.
"Nickname?"
"It's something someone will call you when they don't want to use your name."
"Slut is nickname?"
"No. When someone says that, they’re trying to be mean, okay?"
"It bad?"
"Yes. Most times it is." Most times?
"So I not slut?"
"Depends on how slutty you can get for me." His tone of voice changed.
"Slutty for Billy."
"Hey! Sevyn don't say that!" Steve raises his voice at me causing me to turn my head in his direction.
"I not talk to you!"
"Well I'm talking to you."
"Tell Harrington I said shut up." Billy notes into my ear.
"Billy said shut up slut." Steve goes quiet for a few seconds and Billy laughs.
"Don't call me that."
"If I pet, you are slut." Billy laughs more.
"I didn't mean it like that. I promise. Give me one second." I hear a click before I hear shuffles in the back seat.
"What's he doing pretty girl?"
"He making noise."
"I'm looking for my dictionary."
"Looking for dictionary." I repeat to Billy as Steve sits back down.
"Sevyn a dictionary is a book full of words and there meaning. I'm gonna search for the word ‘pet’
"Is he being serious?" Billy speaks up again.
"I don't know Billy."
"Pet is used as an affectionate form of address. Example: "don't cry, pet, it's all right". Another definition of what I meant, a person especially cherished or indulged; favorite. Here is another one, denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about. And the last one, to treat someone with affection or favoritism; pamper."
"I not dog to you?" I feel his hands on my cheeks.
"No Sevyn. You're not a dog to me."
"Okay."
"Okay?" I nod and he removes his hands.
"I talk to Billy now." I turn away from him. "Billy?"
"Yes pretty girl?"
"Want you now."
"I can't come see you right now because I'm busy." Busy?
"I come to you."
"It's not safe here for you pretty girl. Let Steve take you home and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Home?"
"It's where you live."
"I live with Steve?"
"Mhm. And Sevyn?"
"Yes?"
"Have Steve help you with speech more. You improved so much. You're doing good." I turn around and face Steve.
"You teach speech. I do good for Billy."
"You don't want to do good for me?" I shake my head at him.
"No. You take eggo last time."
"Can I speak to Steve pretty girl?" I pay attention to Billy again.
"Why?"
"I need to speak with him. I'll come see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay." I hold out the phone to Steve. "No want to talk to me anymore."
"That's not what I said!" Billy yells as Steve takes the phone.
"No need to yell, Hargrove."
"Shut up, slut. I need you to do me a favor."
"What?"
"Don't make her upset anymore alright? I have plans tonight and they don't involve you."
"Did you just hint at fucking someone?"
"So what if I did?"
"Who?"
"Not you or Seven obviously. Bye Harrington." Steve huffs and I hear a beep resonate through the car.
"Steve?"
"Yes?"
"What is fucking someone? Billy said he fuck me."
"He said what?"
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zambranomariangel · 1 year
Text
ENGLISH PROJECT
DEFINITIONS
Story: It´s a narrative about people and events, usually including an interesting plot. A story can be fictional or true, and it can be written, read aloud, or made up on the spot.
Tales: It refers to a narrative or story, often involving fictional or imaginative elements. It emphasizes the art of storytelling and conveying events, characters, or experiences.
Science fiction:  A genre of fiction in which the stories
STORY
In the year 2075, my petroleum company had grown tremendously to become one of the largest in the world thanks to its innovative and advanced machinery.... However, one day a disastrous leak was discovered in one of our pipelines, causing large quantities of oil or gas to spill into nearby water sources. This contamination made the water undrinkable, creating chaos among the population. They did not hesitate to blame me, and it was obviously entirely my fault.  Consequently, I realized that I could be responsible for the extinction of water.
Desperate to rectify my mistake, I tried to find a solution, but it was too late. All the water supplies were already contaminated. Then, I wondered if I could at least go back in time and solve this. Suddenly, I hear a voice speaking to me. It was my grandmother who had already passed away.
Grandma:  Mariangel, don't give up, you can travel back in time and fix this.
Me: Granny, come on, that's not possible.
Grandma: of course, it is, especially in our family.
Me: Our family?
Grandma: Yeah, remember the family ring I gave to you...this ring can open a portal between two different times in history but choose wisely. You can only travel once.
Me: But which date should I go back to solve this?
Grandma: You should come back in time to the exact moment your grandmother found the company.
Despite knowing my petroleum empire will vanish, I comprehend it’s for a great purpose.
As soon as I put on the ring a brilliant light blinds my eyes and subsequently I appear in 1986. In my quest to sabotage my grandmother, I figure out that day my grandmother will meet my grandfather. So, I had a big dilemma: what if I alter the past and I erase my existence?
Time was running out and I involuntarily chose to save the planet from water scarcity. The company's foundations were ruined and, with luck, the company would cease to exist in the future. So, I decided to travel to the present and see if the problem was solved. 
When I got home, I discovered that the water was no longer contaminated. I was so happy, but what if my actions in the past had altered the course of history in a way that affected my own existence? I was terrified but once again a familiar voice in my head said, "Honey, you have done an amazing job, I am so glad to call you granddaughter..... And don't worry even though our company no longer exists, you and our family have many years to live.”
Tumblr media
I created this image by using the web page Wepik.com. First, I created an account and an image using AI, by describing the image I wanted to have. Finally, I downloaded the image I liked the most and pasted here.
VIDEO:
SLIDES:
https://www.canva.com/design/DAFxcTiB_4k/7LWpb6kD_wxo3tGNMj6BZg/view?utm_content=DAFxcTiB_4k&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link&utm_source=publishsharelink
References
Giuliani, J. (n.d.). Science Fiction Genre by Jessica Giuliani. TPT. Retrieved October 11, 2023, from https://www.teacherspayteachers.com/Product/Science-Fiction-Genre-213262 
Khan, A. (2023, June 20). Tale vs. Tail-Difference between and Examples. EDUInput. Retrieved October 11, 2023, from https://eduinput.com/tale-vs-tail/ 
Story - Definition, Meaning & Synonyms. (n.d.). Vocabulary.com. Retrieved October 11, 2023, from https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/story 
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Text
[New Recording] The Gamer
This interview originally took place on May 7th, 2023.
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Once looking at the screen - you've begun to take notice to a messy apartment, yet a little neat at the same time. It gives off the aura of someplace at least kept up, and lived in at the same time. Especially considering the person sitting infront of it, peering towards the screen with an intent curiosity, shuffling around for another fleeting moment to fix up anything last minute. ..he seems to be the one living in it. Finally, though - he stops and pays his full attention in your direction with a playful grin on his face. He seems to move around when he sits, whether it's a chosen of shifting how he's sat, or just glancing around, before finally waving to greet you.
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[GAMER]: "I think it's good to go now- Hii! This is Cayden Emberbloom! What's up?"
HI CAYDEN!!
CAYDEN: "HI!!!!"
HI CAYDEN!! just a lil question,,,,, can you tell me whos the guitarist from the popular band Queen? :)
"Oh my God! Wait I love Queen, it's, like, uhhhh.." He leans back in his seat, kicking his feet a little bit. "..Brian May!"
Where’d u get the shirt
"Uhhh, ..Hm. I think I thrifted it from somewhere ,, dunno if I remember, oops—"
do you like the sky?
"I mean, it's like always around us - or, ..well, like, above us — how could I not?"
Cayden do you slay
"Everyday." ok pal.
cayden how many european countries can you name?
"Ummmmm.." .. He shrugs, and seems to count on his fingers, ..as if that's any help. But sadly, he just .. shrugs again. "I dunno. Like maybe two??"
Cayden thoughts on detectives/investigators
"Like, in the movies? Sherlock Holmes and stuff? That's cool. ..I don't actually think I've watched Sherlock Holmes."
What is your ideal pet, basic or exotic or whatever? Any animal. Maybe even all the animal!!
"..I want a dog. Like, any kind. Maybe those really tiny fluffy ones. ..I forgot their names." :]!
Cayden what is your home address and mother's maiden name
"oh em gee." He actually said that . ".. jokes on you, I have an apartment -" There's still an address to that. he's trying. it's the thought that counts.
Cayden how do you feel about red heads
"Like- red red hair cause like, some people call people with ginger hair red heads but- Red hair's a cool color." ' '..
Do you have any siblings?
"Two sisters!"
would you rather save 20 people from a volcano or get a kiss from a man
... "Uhhhhh." he's thinking on it. "It'd be funny if I chose the second option - but, I'll save the twenty people cause that's cool."
Cayden what's your opinion on men assigning u flowers I've met two so far that do this and it doesn't seem to be stopping
".. I've like, never met someone who does that, but I think it's cool if someone wants to! I don't like, actually know a lot of flowers.. unless they're like the really basic ones."
Cayden, do you think you're normal
"I'd hope so," ^^? "I think I am!"
CAYDEN! what do you think made a person good
"Ooh, um, this sounds like a deep question. I guess if they aren't like .. uh, ..evil they're good? Or, like, people who are kind and stuff. I don't think I'm being specific enough here, ..or actually getting a point across."
"I think people that are like good are people who don't go out of their way to hurt others and, stuff, - ..maybe that's basic, though!"
Cayden are you pro hater behavior
"Umm, maybe! Depends."
cayden whats your favourite urban dictionary definition
"I literally cannot remember a time where I willingly looked for a definition on that website."
Hey Cyaden.... Cayden...... Ur mom
"Woah."
Favourite song :)? One that youd say “ oh yeah THIS is my THEME SONG for SURE !!”
"Dunno if I've got like a theme song, but I like any songs really too, ..'specially any old rock music. I think that stuff's cool. I could never choose a favorite.." ;;
hey cayden whats your opinion about the emoji below
"I like it. It's funny ....."
CAYDEN, THE UFO. THERES A UFO BEHIND YOU CAYDEN. WATCH OUT!!! LOOK!!! BEHIND YOU!!!!
"wait wouldn't i hear it break in my apartment I thought those things were big???" Still, hes turning around. ufo is not in sight . He's been bamboozled..
Hey Cayden if Katy is Perry than who parodies the platypus
"..its me.. I parody the platypus... I make the hit platypus paradoy music...."
IT'S INVISIBLE CAYDEN THE ALIENS HAVE GROWN SNEAKY YOU JUST CAN'T SEE IT PLEASE BE SAFE KING
"THANK YOU .. I WILL..."
sending you prayers cayden. the aliens have mastered the art of invisibility. good luck.
"The prayers are in my thoughts... thank you so much..."
Cayden if you could have a superpower what would it be :3
"Hmm .. Maybe like, flying or something - that'd be cool to do. Or, like, ..teleporting? I'd wanna know what that's like. Sounds cool."
hey cayden who would be your doofenshmirtz
"Hm.. I dunno if anyone really reminds me of that guy, ..maybe I'll just work with the dude myself. Real deal and stuff."
cayden,,,, i love you but. he's fictional.
"....nuh-uh......"
Cayden, any shows/series/movies you like?
"Ah, off the top of my head? I like Pokémon. I always thought that was cool."
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CAYDEN: [After a moment, he leans forward, to say goodbye.]
"I've had a lot of fun talking with you guys! You're all really cool, but, I should probably get going..."
[With that, Cayden flashes one more smile at the screen with a wave - before it shuts off!]
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Recording and audio provided by [UNKNOWN]: do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now do i have your attention now
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