#a true soulmate

[thenightstroll]

idk, as it's the first time we realy interact in anyawy, why not we go for some drink (cafe/tea counts of course, I would have some beer if it's ok with ya, if not a coffe sound good) then we chat about how's life treating us recently. And about drifting in some potentially controversial areas, let's keep it civilized, if we're geting to the borders of our confort zones, let's just be clear about that, if a topic seems to be uncomfortable, there's many more we could try out anyway. A few words, and I'm sure we can find something else to talk about.

How I feel when I get into discourse on here

[devilish-moan]

[punkimus-maximus]

[cosmicredcadet]

Soulmates are inherently amatonormative and it's so wild how many people refuse to acknowledge that and instead go around trying to "make it more inclusive" which mostly just leads to then forcing aspec characters into a amatonormative narrative.

[amriedrws]

rewatching hq

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[the-woman-upstairs]

It is driving me…cuckoo bananas that Daniel uses his job as a socially acceptable way to chase the high he used to get from drugs and Armand not only is fully aware of this, but he himself then PROVIDES that very high when Daniel beats him and exposes his lies to Louis.

[starry-nights-17]

[dumblr]

Your real soulmate will naturally make you feel seen, heard, understood, valued, supported & loved. They'll bring out your inner child, be open with you and give you best friend vibes. They'll heal, grow and evolve with you–not only in this lifetime but in every dimension & level up.

[dearabsolutelynoone]

“Unlike most men of his acquaintance, Gregory Bridgerton believed in true love. He’d have to have been a fool not to. Consider the following: His eldest brother, Anthony…”

Julia Quinn, On the Way to the Wedding (Bridgertons, #8)

[ladysherreeamore]

Anytime you feel like spiraling over Nic hanging put with a group of friends that include Jake remember Luke is the one she goes home to ❤️

[devilish-moan]

[punkimus-maximus]

[auroralynne]

Spirk - T’hy’la

First art of the year 💖 I got into a Star Trek obsession thanks to my wonderful friends (specially @skaylanphear , you know what you did lol) and now all I can think about is space husbands ❤️

Happy New Year!

[flutterbyoz]

It seems there are still some people out there who wish to belittle, disregard and reject Michonne's importance to Rick. So for those who seem to have such a problem with Rick and Michonne let me just say:

This is Michonne Grimes

She is everything to Rick Grimes. His partner, his lover, his confidant, his best friend, his saviour, the mother of his children, his sun, moon and stars, she is his wife, his soulmate and the love of his life. She is his entire universe, his reason for everything and he would choose her in any life and any universe.

Contrary to what I've seen some people say, Rick would not walk away from Michonne if Lori miraculously returned from the dead, he would not do so if Jessie came back either. Had Lori or Jessie lived, Rick and Michonne still would have found their way to each other because they are meant to be, in any lifetime and in any and all versions of reality.

Rick is the man who didn't think of moving on even after 8 years, who wrote love letters and dreamt about her to keep himself going, and lets not forget what he had to do just to be able to go on without her. And for Michonne, she couldn't truly believe he was gone despite the fact she saw the bridge he was stood on literally explode, she kept believing and searching for years, never moved on and went through hell to find him again.

The Walking Dead and especially The Ones Who Live have made it exceptionally clear what their relationship is, how important they are to each other, how deep and unbreakable their love is and how they would go to the ends of the earth for each other. Not everyone is going to feel a connection to Richonne, I get that and I'm not trying to say otherwise (despite the fact I don't think I'll ever understand how anyone can watch their love story and not fall completely in love with their love!) but canon is canon, you can not feel a connection to them and still respect their story and acknowledge that they are 'it' for each other. To disregard that is to ignore their whole story.

Michonne Grimes is Rick Grimes one true love, she is his whole world, she and their children are his priority, he will put them before anyone else, and yes, even above Daryl. So, while we are all entitled to an opinion no one can really deny that Rick and Michonne are completely and utterly head over heels in love, someone's personal view of them as a couple does not change that fact.

This is THE couple of The Walking Dead and IMO the best couple to have ever graced the screen. They are everything to me and they are everything to each other

[deadlypoetacademia]

I don't know about soulmates but I just wish everyone had that one person in their lives in front of whom they can be vulnerable. In front of whom, they never have to fake their emotions, they never have to think before speaking, never have that fear of being judged. Just to yap about random things, to have that comfortable silence with, I wish everyone had someone and no one feels alone.