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#seven love languages

artscloudy · 9 months

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Guys I just found out there are SEVEN TYPES OF LOVE LANGUAGES like whaaaat?

We have the famous five ones that are:

Gift giving

Words of affirmation

Quality time

Acts of service

Physical touch

And then TWO MORE:

Shared experiences. I thought it was just something similar to quality time but it's more like doing new things together, such as trips, concerts, adventures with your loved ones. And I think that's so interesting. Do you ever feel like you want and need to share an experience with someone just for the sake of knowing you shared a great experience with them? And you love someone more after that?

Emotional security. This hits hard. I just thought it was obvious and underlying to all the other types of love languages but apparently it isn't. We needed to point out that feeling emotionally safe when you are with someone is a completely different way of showing love than just being with them or doing the choirs they hate for them. And I think that's fundamental now that we have so many types of relationships that seem perfect marriages and stuff from the outside but actually leave so many scars inside.

But what if I can't just say one thing resonates the most with me and I want all of the love languages to a certain extent? Do I really need to pick one or two? Should I accept to be either encouraged by words or kissed when I'm not feeling confident? Am I asking too much when I say I want to have both of them?

Sorry for the little rant

#love languages #love language #seven #seven love languages #five love languages #acts of service #words of affirmation #quality time #physical touch #rant #gift giving #shared experiences #emotional security

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nart-is-a-monster · 3 months

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So, today was fun!/

Also ax is probably thinking of killing for filling almost all the canvas with the same two gays again sgafadsjdksyaj

#vat7k #varigo #varian #tts #hugo vat7k #alchemy boyfriends #varian and the seven kingdoms #tts varian #hugo rottewange #hugo the human #varian tts #my art <3 #ax love language is insults lol

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frasers-of-my-heart · 4 months

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seven sentence sunday

Thanks to my lovely @flyinghome-againstthewind for tagging me last week 😘😘 if you haven’t read what she posted from beside the seaside, go find it bc it’s so freaking soft 💜

Claire ran her fingers over the finished wood from the closest side to the one facing the street, not a rough edge or splinter to be found. She traced her initials carved into the box and thumbed the leaves of the herbs gently as she identified each of the four. She wondered if Jamie knew the symbolism of each one like she did… Sage for health and wisdom. Lavender for calm and devotion. Rosemary for fidelity. Lemon Balm for balance and…love. Jamie rarely, if ever, acted without intention.

tagging @lara-frasers— I’m just trying to eek out that Faith lives fic one sunday at a time 😂😂

#seven sentence sunday #outlander #from first to home #ffth #baseball!jamieclaire #my fic #flowers are Claire’s love language #softness before some angst

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freneticfloetry · 6 months

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seven sentence sunday

I am all over the place. Seriously, I've written more snippets for the same in every language these last two days than words for anything else. Who am I? Where did all this smutspiration come from? I don't even know who to blame for this. (But when in doubt, blame Tay.)

So have some sentences. Thanks to @orchidscript, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @strandnreyes, @alrightbuckaroo, and @carlos-in-glasses for the tags!

Carlos has always had a confidence with sex that’s like second nature, that's usually mind-numbingly hot. But tonight, after everything — the juice bar confession before all hell broke loose and the hasty hospital conversation after, the split second he'd seemed almost confounded by TK just taking his hand — there's something in it that feels almost protective, performative, something that makes his heart hurt more than a little. Like this is the only way Carlos has ever been confident with someone. Maybe the only way he's ever felt wanted. "Baby," he says, licking into his mouth. The word tastes as right on his tongue as Carlos himself. "Can I fuck you?"

Tagging @ambiguouspenny, @never-blooms, @liminalmemories21, @reyesstrand, @catanisspicy, @welcometololaland, and @heartstringsduet. No pressure!

#seven sentence sunday #my fic #the same in every language #everybody’s out here with their lovely little heartfelt sentences this week and i have finally punched my ticket on the smut train

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keithbutgay · 9 months

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I like to think that while the vat7k gang communicates in Coronan, it's not Yong's first language, and he's still learning the works a bit

And you get into some situations where he accidentally says a completely different word than he meant to. And the others have to clear it up for him

Or Varian will be ranting about something and Yong can't follow

Or he doesn't understand what someone's saying because of their accent and has to ask Hugo to translate it into the Bayangoran language for him

Like, I dunno, I just think it would be really cool

#i also love polyglot hugo #and we know that varian knows like three languages #i personally headcanon that nuru only knows coronan #like coronan was her and varian's first language but not for hugo and yong #just some cool things #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #yong vat7k

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drhu0806 · 2 months

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Remembrance of things past

“And once I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me...immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like the scenery of a theatre to attach itself to the little pavilion, opening on to the garden, which had been built out behind it for my parents...all from my cup of tea.” - Marcel Proust, À la recherche du temps perdu

“What the heck is all this?”

Luna is a storm in the kitchen when Seven returns to the apartment. The counters are littered with open packages of raw meat and fish, platters of sliced vegetables, a bucket of uncooked noodles set off to the side. There are jars holding sauces of various colors and fragrances she can’t even begin to name, and a pot of something is left to boil on the stove.

“Hi, Seven! Happy New Year!”

A head pops up from beneath the counters, and Luna greets her with a big smile. She pulls out something large from below: it’s a portable stove, attached to a small propane tank.

“Happy… New Year to you too? Is that what we’re celebrating?”

Luna nods happily, oblivious to the wariness in which Seven regards the large amount of uncooked ingredients as she brings the stove to the small dining table. Behind them, steam begins to billow up from the pot as its contents are finally brought to a boil.

“Yup! I wanted to have hot pot, so I got all this stuff just for the occasion. Help me get all this stuff onto the table, won’t you?”

Hot pot. Seven’s at least seen the term before, written on some packages she’s seen when Luna takes her grocery shopping at the local Asian market. She assumes the titular pot in question is the one that’s currently boiling; she ferries as much as she can over to the table as she keeps watch over Luna out of the corner of her eye. The latter sets the portable stove alight before gingerly transferring the boiling pot onto it. Through the glass lid, Seven can finally make out some of its contents: the pot is split into two sections, one half containing a pale yellow broth, while the other houses a scarier, oily red liquid.

“Lunes, at some point you’re gonna have to explain how this works to me.”

It takes several more minutes of setting the table and beckoning from Luna before Seven feels comfortable to sit. A bowl of mixed sauces topped with cilantro sits in front of each of them, with a fork and spoon—and a set of trainer chopsticks, a joke on Luna’s part, much to Seven’s chagrin—included with hers. With a dramatic flourish, Luna lifts the lid to the pot, and they’re both hit with a brief wave of heat as a plume of steam blossoms. A wonderfully rich aroma fills the small apartment, and the February winter chill instantly melts away.

“I guess it’s like, uh, fondue?” Luna explains. “Not that I’ve ever tried that myself… But watch, you just take what you want here, like this, when the broth is boiling...”

She pries away a slice of what appears to be finely cut lamb, swirling it around in the pale broth to cook for a few seconds before placing it in Seven’s bowl.

“Make sure to get it real good in that dipping sauce, and if you need a little extra spice,” she waves a hand over the angry red half of the pot, “then you use this side.”

The smell is truly divine, a hearty aroma rising from one half of the pot, cut with the peppery fumes from the other half. Its oily surface bubbles in a magma-like fashion, and Seven can’t help but regard it with a hint of fear.

“Is it normal to have a spicy side? It looks so…”

Luna laughs. “I’ve just never had this kind before! It’s always fun when there are two, don’t you think? I think they pair well together.”

She’s skeptical, but it’s hard to resist Luna’s enthusiasm as she begins throwing in ingredients to simmer, tending to the pot like a witch tends to her cauldron. Before long, the small apartment is filled with delicious aromas and raucous laughter. (and the occasional tears, as Seven discovers very quickly how truly hot one half of the pot is). The table quickly becomes a mess, splattered with water and sauce as the careful arrangement of raw ingredients scatter all over, yet neither of them pay any mind. Seven can’t remember the last time food as ever tasted this good, or the last time a meal in general has ever been this fun.

It shouldn’t surprise her, really. It’s always fun when it’s the two of them.

The night wears on, food is steadily finished, and eventually the time to clear the table comes. Seven has to lean back in her chair, feeling as though her stomach will burst.

“Ugh… Luna, how are you even moving? I’m so full.”

Her companion truly doesn’t look much better off than her, yet Luna continues to do her best to clear away as much of the table as she can. Muttering a promise to help her in a bit, Seven painstakingly moves to the old couch nearby, collapsing onto it with a groan.

Minutes pass by, and the sensation in her stomach doesn’t fade. Even with her eyes closed, she can still hear Luna shuffling about, her footsteps slow. She can’t stand the thought of hauling that large pot of broth anywhere in their current state, and Seven calls out, “Luna! We’ll get it tomorrow. Come sit before you throw up and we have to clean up more.”

There’s no response, but she feels the weight of someone plopping into the space next to her. The sudden jostle elicits another whine from Seven.

“Don’t… I’m gonna barf.”

“Not on me, you’re not.”

It’s instinctual and automatic, the way Luna crawls into Seven’s arms, the way the latter opens them for her. Their tangled forms are unceremoniously draped over the couch, smelling rather unpleasantly of meat. Yet in spite of her roiling stomach, how much she wishes to simply turn into a formless blob right there and then, somehow she feels content and peaceful in that moment. There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

“So, is there a reason you wanted to turn us into overinflated beach balls for New Year’s or…?” she mumbles.

Luna doesn’t answer immediately, and Seven can almost hear her thinking.“We’d have it whenever we visited family. Not so much with my folks here though.” She shifts, lifting her head so she can look at her. “Hot pot is always better with family and friends, you know?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s just me here,” Seven snorts in response.

Luna smiles peacefully, lowering her head to tuck it against her shoulder. “That’s all I need.”

Seven doesn’t say anything, because what more needed to be said? With Luna, she knows they could find fun and joy in nothing more than a brown paper sack. Seven and Luna, Luna and Seven. What more did they even need, when they already had it all?

“Hey, Sev?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna move from the couch until morning, just saying.”

She lets out a laugh, wrapping her arms tighter around her as she brings her closer. The discomfort in her stomach hasn’t abated, but she finds she doesn’t mind much, feeling nothing but warmth and content in this little space just for the two of them.

------------------------------------------------------------

Later…

Luna, with a grunt, has contorted her body on the cool floor of her tiny kitchen as she rummages through the lower cupboards. Various mismatched pieces of dishware are extracted and sorted in a slow, painstaking effort to organize.

Without a light, she can’t see all the way into the dark interiors of the cupboards, and she extends her arm deep into one, searching for anything left in this particular spot. Her fingers brush against something cold and metallic, and Luna, confused, pulls it out.

Its weight and odd shape are explained when the object comes to light; it’s a small portable stove, covered lightly in dust from sitting forgotten in the back of a cabinet for who knows how long. She recognizes it as the one she used for a very specific type of meal, one she hasn’t had in about as long as the stove has gone unused. Memories involuntarily bubble up to the surface, ones she thought she buried.

A boiling pot of broth. Startled shrieks as hot liquid splashes. A diverse, colorful spread across the table, as close to a modern feast they may ever know. A pot split in half, mild to spicy, light to dark, two halves of a whole. Boisterous, joyous laughter, warm smiles.

After all this time, she’s always taken by surprise, again and again, of how it can sneak up on her. The silence within the apartment suddenly becomes too loud: no other footsteps to be heard, no other voice besides her own to listen for within this tiny space. No matter how hard she tries to look away from it, it dances in her periphery, the frayed edges of the Seven-shaped hole in her universe.

With a huff, Luna unceremoniously shoves the burner back into its dark corner. Abandoning her kitchen to a state of unorganized stacks of dishes and kitchenware, Luna grabs her keys and throws on a jacket. She storms out of the apartment, begging for escape from its claustrophobic stillness, for the release that may come with the air that could blow it all away.

Yet no matter how long she runs, she can’t shake off the faint scent of broth that clings to her wherever she goes.

=======================================

BONUS:

A bell rings as the door opens, the members of Soft Violence laughing as they step into the restaurant. Avina halfheartedly tries to hush them as they signal to staff, who eventually lead them to an available table.

“Damn, look at what they’ve got over at that table,” Pope points out. “Maybe we should get that.”

“Pope, don’t just stare at someone else’s food!” Avina chastises.

Seven grins at their boisterousness, switching her attention to the menu. Compared to the others, it doesn’t take her long to pick out what she likes, and after a bit of waiting their table is laden with various dishes, family style. Pope and Kieran waste no time piling food onto their plates as they dig in.

“Damn, Seven, you were so right ordering this,” Kieran praises through a mouth full of food. “This is so good!”

“That’s great, man, but do you think you could tell me without spitting all over the rest of the food?” she laughs.

She spoons some mapo tofu onto her plate, a personal favorite of hers. The sauce isn’t quite the shade of red she likes, but she doesn’t fault it too much as she takes a bite. It’s got a strong flavor profile, expected of this particular dish, perfectly fine, and yet…

“It’s so good.”

Seven purses her lips, contemplative. “It’s not bad, but to be honest it’s not as good as when Luna ma—”

The name slips out before she can stop herself, and her throat immediately closes after. Everyone at the table freezes, in a moment that really only lasts for a second, yet it feels like it stretches for an eternity. Seven claws herself back to reality, forcing words out her lips.

“I mean, it’s fine, I guess. Yeah.” She conspicuously piles more tofu onto her plate, aggressively shoving more pieces in her mouth, even though she feels like throwing up. Even though all she wants is to spit it out, to tear away at the inside of her mouth, to rip out the memories that she now knows are painfully sewn into not just her soul, but her very flesh.

It just isn’t fair. She wants to run out and scream. To curse the one person in the world responsible, to scratch away at her own skin in hopes of exorcising the ghost that haunts her every step, every breath, and down to every last bite.

She never could have imagined sitting at a table of four could be lonelier than sitting at a table of two.

But she has to remind herself that it’s lunchtime, and they’re in a public restaurant. So Seven swallows her food and her pain, like she’s done so often before.

Avina, as always, is the first to recover. “Oh, is it really that good? I’ll try some.”

The tense moment passes as everyone else refocuses on the meal, leaving Seven woodenly chewing for the rest of the night, trying hard to ignore the way everything turns to ash on her tongue.

#infamous if #infamous oc #seven lawless #my writing #owlscratch #oc: luna gao #revising this i realized i was in some kind of mood when i started this LOL #i'm gonna be straight up with y'all i think i either just had hot pot when i began #or i was really craving it LMAOOOO #anyway food as a love language my beloved: SHADOW VERSION haha

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todayisafridaynight · 11 months

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YEAH........... YEAH..... LIKEWISE, NO NOTES AT ALL, THAT'S EXACTLY IT... Main antagonist deaths are often treated as "comeuppance," but that would be the ultimate comeuppance for Aoki. As it stands, the only people who actually suffer for it are Ichiban and Jo, and Ichi didn't even do anything wrong. Also please I'm positive there's more to wring out of Aoki and Jo for an essay 😭😭at the very least, I always love to hear your perspective!

"he'd made a social circle for himself where people predominantly liked him for the power and influence" <- incredibly Mine-core of Aoki btw (I also feel the rest applies a little in terms of Mine probably being very quick to write off people who Do care about him as not caring about him, as with Katase, but it's nowhere near the extent of the Arakawas)

Wait actually it's kind of funny... for both Mine and Aoki, I was so sure their endings would go a certain way. Mine and Kiryu'd fight Richardson off together and Ichi'd, I don't know, shield Aoki or hug him so Kume couldn't get to him in the first place, or after that INSANE direct parallel to Arakawa running to the hospital with Masato, he'd miraculously pull through like he did on New Year's. Tormented with visions of the better timeline... With Aoki in particular, it makes me want to tear my hair out because the moment of him choosing to put the gun in the locker was REVOLUTIONARY for the series, looking at the characters he was most heavily based on.

Anyway. Bottom line. These bitches need to hug it out. It was so evil Arakawa didn't hug Ichi at Omi HQ or on the waterfront like bro stop being """manly""" for five seconds you're ruining my life you're ruining your own lives

There'd genuinely be nothing more painful yet more satisfying for an antagonist than being confronted with the consequences of their actions and having to navigate life after having making those decisions, ESPECIALLY when it comes to mending the bonds that- for anyone else- would have shattered long ago. With Aoki being motivated by the want to be loved and appreciated for himself, it would've been nice to see him finally acknowledge that he did have that love and start to better himself as a result (however much he'd be able to while in prison anyway lmao).

The Mine and Aoki comparisons are so real though, I remember joking to myself about it days after beating the game but it just fuels my mental illness every time I think about it ☠️ I LEGALLY AM NOT ALLOWED TO GO OFF ABOUT THE Y7 ENDING I'VE DONE IT TOO MUCH it makes me so mad every time I think about it 😭 ESPECIALLY THE PARALLELS WITH ARAKAWA AND THE LOCKERS UGGGHHH IT COULD HAVE BEEN SUCH AN EPIC CONCLUSION WITH THAT... Arakawa running from the lockers at the start of Aoki's life compared to Ichiban running from the lockers and getting Aoki to the hospital so Aoki can restart life I'm Going To Kill Someone (myself) (in Minecraft)

#snap chats #theres a note here about aoki's self hatred and ergo his inability to believe people could love him without 'worth'#and some kind of. I Dont Know occurs that comes with aoki accepting that love and ergo At Least Tolerating himself #and again becoming better as a person as a result. not WHOLLY you cant undo Everything Wrong With Him with one therapy session #but itd at least be a start and thats far more than anything else rgg has given since like. ryuji in dead souls #but w/e i- as per usual- have the vocabulary of a walrus so we're just gonna have to imagine i said something profound #AND THE LACK OF HUGGING IN THIS FRANCHISE IM GOING TO STAB ALL OF YOU. IN MINECRAFT.#with the power of delusions and this like seven-year-old wacom tablet i can fix that......#it'll never be enough it'll never fill the void in my soul but it'll be something i guess #BUT UGH NO SORRY IM JUST MAD NOW #nothing in my life has ever genuinely triggered anger in me than the y7 ending its just soooooooOOOOO #IT WAS SOOO CLOSE TO BEING PERFECT I CANT #im going to give myself a blood clot thinking about it anymore i feel my heart stopping Do Not Call An Ambulance I Cannot Afford It #so to stop myself from going in any more debt than i already am..... the possibility of any essays from me are very small #my ability to use words is near non existent. i feel like a right ninny sometimes #in any case im not sure what else i could expand on that isn't restating what you've said #cant ever be upset with bein on the same wavelength tho it gives my inarticulate ass a helluva easier time trying to explain LMAO #plus im petrified of trying to interpret anything from the english dub or english subs #and looking into language use is Very Much important when dissecting abusive relationships #i guess there's always just talking about general actions committed and not inspecting the exact words used #idk.. at the very least ill rotate the concept in my head and then fend off the urge to eat my teeth #i'm gonna throw up.... im still thinking of it........ gonna make an unrelated-but-arguably-related post in like three seconds #dont look at it its cringe

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