#this is entirely self indulgent so no one cares about anyone elses opinions on anything in this 😀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daddy-pops · 3 years

Text

✨Self Care Methods for the Moon Signs 🌙

creds to: @omgits_ella on instagram

♨️Aries Moon: i feel like the best self care methods for aries moon placements is something physical. like, maybe it’s a specific hobby you guys enjoy that takes up your entire attention but it’s also something that you take your energy out on. maybe it’s excerising, working out, or maybe something like.. my best friend with an aries moon binges competivite video games. something that you can really focus on to distract you & consume you so that negative energy doesn’t project to your loved ones.

🧸Taurus Moon: the best self care method for taurus moon placements i feel like would be taking things slow. taking your emotions & physical needs/things at your own pace and indulging in your needs. i’m not saying go do whatever you want, i’m saying that i understand that you need time to process your emotions, take that time. take care of yourself along the way but make sure you’re not throwing others to the side for your usuage, and going down the bad route. things happen for a reason and sometimes we just have no control over what’s happening. accepting that at the end of everyday you’re going to be okay is crucial, and understanding that the things you have learned can be seen as lessons instead of negative views/thoughts, which can prevent you from running into further problems in the future.

🗣Gemini Moon: the best self care method for gemini moons would be VENTING. they need somebody to talk to about what is going on in their head or else they feel scatterbrained and not “all there.” gemini is ruled by mercury, so gemini moons are prone to feeling more anxious than other signs. they usually just like to play it off. if they don’t talk to anybody and they don’t let out all this mercurial energy, they are prone to shutting down for awhile or using distractions to runaway from their inner thoughts in order to cope. they are also popular for using humour to cover up their emotions so everything seems “fine.” they need someone to talk to that is healthy for them, that stimulates them in the right ways, and is somebody that they trust. they only want to talk when THEY want to so give them their space and time and surely they will come to you.

🦀Cancer Moon: the best self care method for cancer moons i feel like would be comfort. comforting yourself with whatever your needs are. whether that be spending time with your loved ones, indulging in your comfort foods, or maybe even helping somebody else out. doing whatever you need to help process your emotions in a positive way, but remembering not shell up and push the ones you love around you away. remembering to keep that balance between your needs & others needs.

🎭Leo Moon: the best self care method for leo moons would be to pamper yourself. make yourself feel good, make yourself feel like yourself again. go out with friends, go on adventures, explore new hobbies, express yourself. don’t take it too far though and go down the wrong route, remembering to watch yourself to remain in that healthy mindset. surround yourselves with those you hold close & would do anything for, and remember to take care of yourselves.

🌷Virgo Moon: the best self care method for virgo moons i feel like would be journaling. virgo is ruled by mercury which can make virgo moons more anxious than other signs whether they show it or not. similiar to gemini moons, if they don’t let out all of this mercurial energy, they can feel disconnected trying to figure all of their emotions out. feeling “not all there” like gemini moons. since virgo is a more private sign than gemini, they don’t usually like to talk about their emotions much because of the earth influence. they don’t like being vulnerable unless they trust you. that’s why i think virgo would be interested in journaling rather than venting, they could keep their emotions to themselves but they can write out their feelings to let out this mercurial energy. it could also help them organize their emotions by jotting them down, letting them realize and understand what they’re feeling. basically it helps you rationalize your emotions, which is what they’re all about doing in their head. this is just a more organizing way to do it in my opinion.

🥂Libra Moon: the best self care method for libra moons i feel like would be taking time for yourself. doing the things that you need to do for YOURSELF, and to stop caring so much about how other people perceive you, and what they want from you or for you. surround yourself with the people you trust, and people you know are going to be there for you. take the time out of your day to do special things for yourself, maybe induldge in your favorite foods or your favorite hobby. use positive affirminations with yourself, remind yourself that it’s not all about what others think. your voice matters. you matter. what you think matters more than what anyone else thinks of you. keep reminding yourself of the good things about yourself using those positive affirminations. you deserve good things.

🖤Scorpio Moon: the best self care method for scorpio moons i feel like would be tapping into yourself. scorpio is ruled by pluto, the planet of change and transformation. if i know anything about scorpio placements, it’s that wherever scorpio is placed is going to show you the intense changing / transformation of yourself. for you guys, it must be tough. for this placement i would reccomend doing various things. for one, i would reccomend journaling. unlike virgo moons who do it for organization of their thoughts / feelings, i feel like it would be best for you aswell because your emotions can be so intense and overwhelming that you desperately need an outlet. journaling would allow a way for you to jot down these emotions without anyone getting hurt in the crossfire, but it also allows you to understand what you’re feeling on a deeper level. it’s actually been proven that physically reading & writing on a topic can further deepen your understanding on it. it would allow you to become more comfortable with yourself and your emotional state. another method i would reccomend would be distraction. listen, i know you’re emotions are crazy overwhelming and you feel trapped by them. i know it may seem hard at the moment, but distracting yourself would allow you to process your feelings more. when you first get into an emotional situation, your feelings are so intense that you may view it as an “all or nothing” situation. you may lash out at others, say things you don’t mean, or you may shut down entirely. if you use distraction, your emotions aren’t going to feel as intense because you’re doing something else. you’ve gotta occupy your mind with something you enjoy, that consumes all of your energy so later on you will be in a more rational emotional state, and so everything just won’t seem as overwhelming. this will help you become more clear minded with your emotions, rather than acting out on your emotions.

🏹Saggitarius Moon: the best self care method for sag moons i feel like would be to go out on an adventure. do something fun with yourself or with the people you love the most. let yourself be free. express yourself and remember to use positive affirminations with yourself. surround yourself with the people you trust and talk about what you’re feeling whenever you’re ready. trust yourself, and be humble with those around you. try not to runaway from your feelings, because that only causes you to runaway from yourself. accept yourself and who you are, believe that you are capable of great things. because you are capable. believe & accept yourself, and you will go a long way.

🌻Capricorn Moon: the best self care method for capricorn moons i feel like would be letting yourself take a break. it’s a good thing to balance out your work, hobbies, and relaxation time but i know that you guys like being productive and like grinding. so i would say to balance yourself out. if you think you would be better processing your emotions by working your butt off, go for it. but remember not to overwork yourself. remember that you’re productivity does not determine your worth. or maybe give yourself some much needed relaxtion time, go out with your closest friends, and talk to people that have your back. whatever you prefer, but the idea is to allow yourself to take a step back and say, “i’ve done so much, i deserve a break.” remember to balance this though, and use it when you need it.

👾Aquarious Moon: the best self care method for aquarious moon i feel like would be giving them their space. when an aquarious moon is upset about something, the best thing they need is space to rationalize and intellectualize their emotions. they want to rationalize in their head how they feel this way, why they feel this way, and what they can they do about it. sometimes they may feel better venting / talking to somebody they trust about it, or going out with their close friends because they are prone to overthinking. maybe take up a new hobby for variety or something new. let yourself have fun, and let yourself be happy. accept yourself and trust your gut.

873 notes · View notes

outercrasis · 3 years

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about.

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors.

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear.

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet.

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke.

"Well okay, Grogu it is."

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric.

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler.

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando.

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself.

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

taglist: @honestly-shite

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

247 notes · View notes

spiritofwhitefire · 3 years

Text

Hannibal x Eating Disorders

The meta that no one asked for!

This shouldn’t be as unpopular an opinion as it is but I personally believe that Hannibal has an eating disorder. And I am about to fucking prove it.

1. Eating disorders are categorized by an unhealthy obsession with food. I think we can all agree that Hannibal’s entire life revolves around food to an extremely unhealthy degree. Like yes, obviously the cannibalism but NOT JUST the cannibalism. Hannibal DOESNT eat anything he doesnt make himself. He has to be 100% in control of the meal. “I am very careful about what I put into my body”, and HE IS. Every meal is aesthetically stunning, and planned out by him in advance with literally the best possible ingredients. And none of this is necessarily bad (except for like maybe the people eating) and I am not arguing that Hannibal doesnt enjoy food. I think he loves food. Eating disorders are very often a product of our minds ability to twist something we love into a self destructive obsession. You cant have an obsession about something you dont care about (Will Graham)

2. An obsession with controlling what everyone else eats too. Hannibal LOVES feeding people, he especially loves being in control of what they are putting in their bodies. We all know he gets off on turning everyone else unknowingly into a cannibal too. But it’s not just the cannibalism, I would guess it is also a comfort thing, oh look I am not alone here, we are all indulging in this absolutely insane meal together, companionship my beloathed!

3. Portion control. As far as we can tell, Hannibal is pretty particular about how he portions out his meals. He seems to make a huge amount of food and then serve very small portions to himself and his guests. He definitely seems to stick to three meals a day and no snacks. His fridge doesn’t seem overburdened by leftovers so I can’t help wondering what happens to all the rest of the food? Does he donate it? I can see him doing that, as someone with food insecurity in his past he would never want anyone else to go hungry. I can’t see him throwing it all out.

4. Obsession with bodies. I don’t know that Hannibal is particularly obsessed with his own body, I mean he definitely keeps in shape but that’s not exactly abnormal. However he certainly doesn’t seem to respect the bodies of others, and he does seem a bit detached from his own apart from using it as a tool. He is remarkably unconcerned with the various injuries he receives throughout the series and obviously doesn’t particularly seem to mind injuring the bodies of others especially when those injuries help further his goals

5. Eating Disorders and Childhood trauma: We all know by now that Hannibal’s entire family was murdered when he was a kid and then was either force fed his sister or like maybe chose to eat her, hard to say at this point, but either way this coupled with the food insecurity he experienced after the fact would have definitely been cause to trigger a possible disorder in him. I can imagine part of the reason why fitness is so important to him aside from making murder easier would be because he would never want to be that weak and skin and bones orphan ever again. I always wonder if some of the persona of the ripper is sort of aspirational to him. This stoic, strong, untouchable man who would be so different from the thin little boy he used to be, or the bleeding heart romantic who he becomes in later seasons

If you made it this far, bless your heart because this was one of the most self indulgent things ever. Kisses and neck bites for all!

#hannibal #hannibal meta #eating disorders #This was SO self indulgent and rambling like what

44 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Ooh i’m so excited rn omg...what i need rn is more of aizawa and villian!soulmate reader. They just keep acting like a brat until aizawa takes them home and punishes them X3

Prelude - shoutout to y’all for being so patient with me! appreciate it so so much. Also, there was like one other ask that I wanted to include here but I couldn’t find it, so rip. Also, @bbygirlpastel ty for the “Villain? I’ll show you a villain.”

Pairing - Yandere Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - dub con, non con, NSFW, overstimulation, no actual penetration. Creepy Aizawa, vibrators, uhhh literally nothing good here. Dead dove man, if you look at a dead bird and KNOW it’ll taste disgusting and make you sick to your stomach.... DON’T FUCKIN EAT THE BIRD. listen to the warnings my dudes!!

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/6p8eEdiZLKJH8tcjGZuNTK?si=9r_2kgkoR56h9UkBCybxLw

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

Maybe he wouldn’t be this infatuated, this utterly obsessed, this angry with you if you had just given in from the start.

You weren’t even a high-priority villain, just some desperate nighttime thug that preyed on innocent bystanders. Snatching wallets, causing a ruckus, stealing from thrift stores or gas stations a couple of times a week. You were a nuisance, but not big enough to catch Aizawa’s attention - not until you stole a women’s watch right in front of him on the street while he was buying a snack from a food-cart before his shift started.

And yeah, Aizawa tried to keep a low profile, not flaunt his hero status in order to effectively capture and subdue villains, but surely you would’ve noticed the man clad in black, obviously sporting hero gear standing nearby. But you didn’t, and then he was grabbing your shoulder so he could drag you to the police station. Aizawa had been surprised when you wiggled out of his grip and took off, and damn, you were fast.

The game of cat-and-mouse had begun, and while the underground hero failed to catch you that night (and every subsequent night he saw you out on the streets) he was determined to do so. Well, maybe not /as/ determined. When it came to you, the man was easily distracted.

The clothes you wore were baggy, hid your form effectively. But if someone looked close enough, they could notice the curves of your body, especially as you ran, evading capture. Aizawa was loathe to admit at first, but it was tantalizing watching you flee from him.

He beat himself up over it. He’d always had a solid grasp of self-control, and usually he felt no attraction to his targets, even if they were wearing the skimpiest of outfits. One time he had turned in a villain wearing nothing but pasties over her breasts and panties (her quirk was seduction-based), and he hadn’t felt anything but utter boredom as he filled out paperwork at the police station while they found her some actual clothes. It probably had something to do with the “soulmate” quirk he had been hit with once, but Aizawa had never really put much faith in it, nor thought about it extensively. He had always had a bit more self control than other men.

So for him to almost have feelings for some low-life idiot? It made his skin burn with irritation (and maybe something else, but he wasn’t ever going to address that). It didn’t make any sense.

The fact that it didn’t make any sense did not stop his brain from plastering not-suitable-for-work thoughts about you whenever he ran upon you committing some minor crime. It was infuriating.

The satisfaction the man felt from finally pinning you down, taking advantage of a small stumble, tackling you down and pressing you into the cold concrete of the rooftop was probably unholy. It just felt so damn good, catching you, forcing you to submit, getting you underneath him. When he had flipped you onto your back, you wouldn’t look at him, just staring off to the side, almost as if you were ashamed.

You should be - stealing from anyone and everyone, being a brat, making Aizawa’s life difficult as you infiltrated every waking moment.

He had started to lecture you, starting out with his usual cool-headed,

unbothered demeanor, but slowly getting more and more annoyed as you still refused to look at him. Pretending he wasn’t there, refusing to listen - Aizawa felt the urge to slap you, just to make you react.

He settled for harshly gripping your chin, forcibly turning your head so he could look at your eyes. Eye contact was an important thing to Aizawa - it was the basis of his quirk, but he wasn’t prepared for the punch to the gut he felt when he looked into yours.

Words escaped him, mouth dropping open, his body frozen. There was - there was something going on. You took advantage of his pause, shoved the man off of you, took off running. Aizawa could do nothing but sit there, staring after your form with his own eyes wide and wondering. What had just happened?

He reflected on the moment for the entire rest of the night, musing over the strange feeling coiled in his stomach, the weird tug in his chest, his brain wanting and desiring and lusting and it was so distracting, he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to indulge.

The realization finally hit him - the soulmate quirk he had been hit with, all those long years ago.

Some lady had come up to him while he was shopping, smiling at him toothily before asking him wether he believed in soulmates. He had stared at her for a second, before blankly responding with a curt “no”, turning back to continue browsing the selection of applesauce packets. A hand on his wrist, a burning sensation from his arm to his heart, and then he was rounding on the woman, ready to drag her to the police station for using her quirk in public without a license.

She had just cackled, citing something about soulmates and how he was going to believe now, he’d learn what it would feel like to find your true love when he looked into their eyes. Some sappy, romantic, crazy bullshit that he had ignored and promptly forgotten, before calling the police.

The lady had been deemed mentally ill, driven mad by the loss of her husband in a hero-based accident. Aizawa quickly forgot about the incident.

Aizawa didn’t believe in soulmates, and even if they existed, there was no way in hell that his soulmate would be a villain.

But apparently, the universe did not care about Aizawa’s opinions.

He tried to ignore it, turn a blind eye whenever he saw you sneaking around late at night, would turn and head the other way. But there was no denying the burning flame in his heart, the yearning to see you again, to talk to you, learn about you, what you liked, what you didn’t, where you had grown up, what your aspirations were.

Aizawa hated it.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

The feelings grew and grew, festering in his body like an open wound, infecting his mind, crawling through his veins and slowly seeping into every aspect of his life, until all he could think about was you. The man needed it to stop.

The cat-and-mouse game was picked up again, except this time, Aizawa wasn’t going to give you any opportunities to get away.

You were able to sense the change, could see the rabid look in his eyes when he sought you out for the first time since the night you had slipped out of his grasp. There was something different, and it wasn’t good, it was dangerous.

You managed to dodge him for a time, and some part of Aizawa swelled with pride that his supposed “soulmate” was so clever. The other part of him wanted to break something.

He was almost frightened by the change in him, this volatile anger, the impatience and the lust. That wasn’t who he was, but ever since meeting you, looking into your eyes, it’s what he had become. Maybe if he tracked you down, got close to you, spent some time with you, this needy feeling would go away. You couldn’t run forever.

Aizawa caught you during the daytime, when both of you were off-guard and not paying attention. It was luck, really, or maybe destiny or fate, that he had looked up to watch as passengers filtered onto the subway. You were wearing the same baggy clothes you always wore, hoodie over your head, earbuds in.

There was a backpack slung over your shoulder, and Aizawa watched you sling it off to place it in your lap as you sat down before the doors closed.

It was easy to follow you home, to the dingy little deathtrap you called your own, on the first floor of an abandoned, moldy motel building. It was even easier to follow you inside, through the broken window , his footsteps undetected through the blare of music in your earbuds.

It was less easy to subdue you, with the desperate fight you put up, trying to kick and punch and scream as soon as Aizawa’s thick arm circled around your throat. Still, the man had been subduing unruly villains for a while now, and it wasn’t hard for him to keep his hold on your smaller from, no matter how you thrashed in his arms.

When you finally passed out from the lack of air in your lungs, Aizawa gently followed you down to the floor, staring at you for a moment (god you were pretty, how had he not noticed how pretty you were?) before looking around the room.

It looked like a regular motel room, except there was no TV, there was signs of rot dotting the walls, and the air smelled decidedly unhealthy. He wrinkled his nose as he took it in - you would be much better living somewhere less unsavory.

Which, Aizawa’s home was perfectly capable of hosting an unwilling guest. Aizawa wasn’t naive enough to think you’d be happy waking up in an unfamiliar room, but he figures it would be better than jail. Like hell was he going to hand you off to the police, not when the ache in his chest was subsiding in your presence, the burning need for something lowering to a slow simmer. Justice be damned, Aizawa was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner in this particular case, and he had yet to decide your fate.

----

“You are insufferable - if you would just give in, everything would feel so much better. Holding out like this is illogical.”

He was tired. Tired of your stubbornness, tired of your refusals, tired of your insults, tired of the way his skin itched and blood boiled every time you spat at him or knocked over the plate of food he brought to you.

When he was met with silence, Aizawa sighed. This was getting old. It had been a month since he’d brought you under his roof, a month of holding back, a month of playing nice, a month of letting you “adjust”. But you hadn’t adjusted, hadn’t even tried, and he was tired.

“You’re only hurting yourself by acting like this.“

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like this if you hadn’t kidnapped me.” You spat, glaring daggers at the man.

Aizawa paused, almost humored by your spiteful response. “You would rather I have turned you over to the police? The prison system isn’t kind to pretty little things like you. No matter how tough you pretend to be, you’d be broken in less than a week.”

You scoffed, pulling at the chain that held your ankle to the wall. “As if this is somehow better. You’re a sick man, I hope you choke on your next meal and /die/.”

Aizawa gestured to the room, his patience wearing thin. “I could make it worse.”

And he could. He could take away the thin mattress you were sitting on, shorten your chain so you couldn’t reach the bare-bones bathroom, he could stop feeding you, or make you eat scraps like a dog. Of course, he could make it much better too, but only if you’d stop fighting him at every turn.

“I don’t even know what you want. You’re just an old pervert, you’re no hero. You claim to be good and just, but you’re no better than the villains you put behind bars.”

Within a second, Aizawa was crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, yanking you forward until you could feel his heated breath across your face, could see the tension in his eyes.

“I want you to behave.” He ground out. “I’ve treated you with nothing but civility so far, but if you’re so determined to see me as nothing but a villain, then fine, I’ll show you a villain.”

Aizawa was at the end of his rope. It was uncharacteristic for him to exhibit such anger, such impulses and wild feelings, but when it came to you, Aizawa felt like he was an entirely different person, ruled solely by his instincts.

With a push, you were sprawled onto your back on the mattress, quickly trying to scramble upright, ready for an attack. But Aizawa just watched, letting you panic before you realized he was going to stay put. Well, stay put for a time.

There were some things he needed to go get, to show you how good he had been to you, to prove that he had been nice and accommodating. But if you wanted to play dirty, then Aizawa could play dirty.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked onto your face. You were such a shy thing, barely able to hold eye-contact, always blushing and stammering and fighting when he made you look at him. It wasn’t his fault that your eyes were enchanting, drawing him in like a spell. If he could, Aizawa wouldn’t mind spending a few hours just watching you, watching your eyes take in the world. Of course, that was an illogical desire, but the man found he was having a lot of those these days.

You huffed as you felt him watching you. “You’re a creep.” The man didn’t answer, and you deflated, voice coming out small “Please…. let me go. I won’t like, steal stuff anymore, alright? Just let me go.”

Aizawa could bet that you were scared - after all, you were nothing more than a common crook. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever been held hostage, the first time you’ve been immobilized. You were probably used to intimidation, maybe even abuse - someone living in a rotted, abandoned motel and living off of what they could steal each day probably didn’t have a good story to tell about what had happened to them.

Either way, Aizawa didn’t really care. If it wasn’t for the tearing sensation in his chest when he was away from you for too long, he’d definitely have handed you over to the police by now. It was driving him insane, how he couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t live now that his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of you.

When he went out at night, he worried that you would hurt yourself, or escape - get away from him somehow. When he was at home, trying to do the “right” thing and give you space, not touch you, not invade your space, he was bombarded with the single-minded desire of holding you, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest.

It had to stop. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

Aizawa had tried everything, from leaving you alone, to spending time watching you from the other side of the room - the man had even tried to erase the supposed “soulmate” quirk he was infected with by using his own quirk in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Nothing seemed to help.

He had tried to be nice, he had tried to be good. But there was still the tugging in his chest, the itch he couldn’t scratch when it came to you. He wanted to do so much, but he wasn’t a villain, he wouldn’t force you.

But there lay the problem.

Aizawa wanted to.

He closed the door behind him as he left your room, the “torture chamber” he had said once, deadpanned tiredly in an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t laughed.

The man supposed that this last month had really just been him warring against the dark, whispering corner of his mind that urged him to just take. To do what he wanted, to lay waste, to ravage you in every carnal way he so desired. To force you to lay by his side at night, force you to give him long, loving kisses, force you into domesticity.

Aizawa knew it was wrong. He had tried to ignore that part of him, push it down, focus on the logical solutions he could think of, the ones that kept his actions pure and heroic. But at this point, with you resisting so strongly? How you called him a villain, a pervert, a creep? Why not let the villain inside take a moment in the spotlight.

That’s what he was thinking as he gathered items into his arms from his room, spending hardly any time picking out what he wanted and needed. He’d had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what he would do to you once you finally submit to him. The man had plenty of ideas, especially now that he was deciding to throw his inhibitions out the window.

The fact that you most likely weren’t going to be willing merely meant that Aizawa added a spreader bar and an extra set of cuffs to the growing pile in his arms.

Stepping back into your room was almost thrilling, seeing your eyes snap up, to the bundle of items he held, then at his face. They were so wide, scared, panicked. It was a good look on you honestly, one that Aizawa didn’t mind seeing more often. He was done being the nice guy.

“This is entirely your fault, you know that (Y/N)?” He mused as he strode forward, crouching to set down a towel on the ground, slowly laying each item down onto it. Might as well build up your fear and anticipation.

“If you hadn’t provoked me so, I would’ve been able to be continue holding myself back.” He could hear your breathing pick up as each item was set down, had to fight down a mocking smirk. “You had to be a brat though, egg me on like that. Well, if it’s not apparent by now, you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Please, please, oh god, this-you don’t need to-you-there’s-“

“Didn’t you just accuse me of being a villain? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations here, isn’t that what you want?”

Aizawa finished emptying his arms, then headed towards you, holding the extra pair of cuffs in his hand. He caught your eyes, watching you beg, try to push yourself back into the wall, away from him. There was no doubt that you were terrified, practically having a panic attack as you hyperventilated, eyes darting between Aizawa, the cuffs in his hands, the items on the towel behind him.

It was easy for Aizawa to grab ahold of your already-bound wrists, pulling them down to the ground, right above the top of the mattress. Quickly, one cuff was attached to your wrist, the other cuff slipped through a small, recessed metal ring in the ground.

After you had…. “moved in”, Aizawa had done some renovations. The angle he had you trapped at now kept your arms stretched above your head, immobile and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. It’d be uncomfortable if you were left like that for too long, but Aizawa was still planning on being somewhat merciful today.

You were still babbling quietly, pleading with the man. “You don’t need to do this, please, please please please please-!” You sobbed out the last “please”, trying to wrench your arms free. Of course it was useless, and you were doing nothing but tiring yourself out, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

It was easy to attach the spreader bar to each ankle, despite the way you cried and kicked, ankles slipping out of his grasp a couple times before he could finally pin them down. Aizawa felt eerily calm, patient, but at the same time seething, excited, almost foaming at the mouth for what he knew was to come.

“Struggling won’t achieve anything, but feel free to do so.” He encouraged, shuffling backwards on his knees to look at you, stretched out body on display.

You were still wearing clothes, a thin t-shirt, a pair of loose basketball shorts - all Aizawa’s. He had immediately told you to leave your old clothes outside the bathroom door when you showered the second day after he had captured you.

You had resisted at first, but quickly relented when the man raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders before advancing towards you menacingly. You had gotten the message loud and clear, immediately backing down, agreeing to wear the clothes you were given.

Aizawa retreated to the towel, swiping a pair of scissors off of it. Brandishing them, he snipped them twice in warning. “You might want to be still for this part. I don’t actually want to cut you, so if it happens, it’ll be your fault.”

And then he bent over, carefully snipping the clothes off of your rigid body.

As soon as the last shred of fabric fell away, you breathed in air, immediately letting out a loud, tearful wail. Aizawa felt a twinge of regret, but the quickly-growing bulge in his pants currently outweighed any other feelings he might be having.

Putting the scissors safely out of reach, the man let himself rest back on his heels, surveying your body the way one surveys their food before taking a bite. And oh, was he going to eat you up.

You were writhing, tears falling from yours eyes, still babbling out nonsense as you begged for him to stop, to reconsider, to think about what he was doing.

“I’ve thought about this plenty. It’s called fantasizing.” He murmured, before gently resting his hand against your naked hip.

You spooked like a wild horse, thrashing the second his hand made contact, crying and wailing, shying away from his touch.

Aizawa was glad he had the foresight to bring a gag.

You were so worked up, you didn’t even notice him grabbing it, didn’t register his hand clamping around your jaw, wrenching it open and shoving the ball gag past your teeth. You quickly fought against that too, outright screaming, trying to shake your head, pull away from the hands fastening the strap around your head. But Aizawa was quick, and good with his hands, and your screams became muffled, nothing more than desperate background noise to the defiling of your body.

Resuming his exploration, Aizawa cradled your head in both hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you relax, it won’t be as stressful for either of us.”

With another muffled scream, you turned your head, tear-filled eyes glaring at the wall.

“Or you can be a brat.” Aizawa laughed, a sound he wasn’t used to making. “Either way, it’s not gonna change what’s happening.”

Returning to the towel, Aizawa picked up the next couple of items, turning back to see you watching him through teary eyes. He presented the items in his hands, showing them to you. If you were curious, might as well let you see how he was planning to take you apart.

The second your eyes fell onto the lube, the bullet vibrator, the skin-safe tape, you wailed again, closing your eyes in horror, shaking your head. Aizawa breathed out his nose, humored at your terrified reaction. Not so tough when you were tied up, at the mercy of a man, were you?

Your legs were already held apart by the spreader bar, and no matter how you squirmed when Aizawa kneeled next to your hip, you couldn’t close your legs. When Aizawa’s warm hand ghosted over your stomach, you cried behind the gag, and when his hand made contact with your soft pink folds, you absolutely bawled, the sound loud and pitiful even as muffled as they were.

Aizawa wanted to tease, to feel all around, rub against your labia, tickle your clit, skirt around your opening. He let himself indulge a little, before pulling back, squirting out a dollop of lube onto his fingers. When the cold wetness touched you, there was barely any reaction, the way you were already panicking essentially making you loose all feeling.

That was alright, Aizawa knew that would change soon.

He let his hand wander around your entrance, massaging the lube into your skin, taking special care of your clit, your inner labia, the puffy folds. The man got lost in the sensation of your warmth underneath his fingertips, eyes slowly falling shut, a low hum coming from his throat in a natural attempt to soothe you.

The man didn’t know how long he stayed like that, gently massaging wetness onto your skin, humming, but by the time he opened his eyes, your weeping had essentially subsided. You were making cute little sniffling sounds, trying to calm yourself, your own eyes closed, limbs almost relaxed, as if you’d accepted your fate.

When Aizawa took his hand away to reach for the bullet vibe, you barely moved. When he pulled back the lips of your labia, nestling the small, ovular vibrator against your clit, you only flinched. He pinched your labia lips almost painfully, hiding the vibrator underneath them as he pushed it hard onto your clit, before taping thick strips over your skin. When he was done, the vibrator was firmly in place, immovable, covered almost completely by your labia, which in turn was held over the vibe with the skin safe tape.

The vibe was turned on, and Aizawa swore that your back arched so fast and hard he heard it pop. You writhed on the thin mattress, pulling at the chains binding your hands to the floor, trying to turn onto your side, bucking your hips, jerking and twisting this way and that at the overwhelming sensation. Aizawa had never used the bullet vibe on himself, but he’d felt the strength of the vibrations against his hand as he decided on a setting for you, feeling the tingly sensations through your skin through the tape, before kicking it up a few notches.

You were screaming behind the gag - Aizawa guessed you weren’t used to toys, but he felt no remorse. He put a strong hand on your hip, holding you flush to the mattress as your hips moved about wildly.

“This is what a villain would do. They’d tie you up, assault you…. Tear you down and exhaust you until you turn into a broken little cockslut. Aren’t I so much nicer? At least I plan on taking care of you after. Plus, I’ll still lo-“

He cut himself off, grimacing at the words that had almost slipped out. Aizawa wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet. He wanted to hold onto the allusion that he could resist you, that he didn’t need you, that you weren’t unequivocally important to him

Not like you were listening.

With a sigh, Aizawa sat back, content to watch you writhe as you wiggled your hips, the movement making your breasts jiggle slightly. Aizawa groaned internally, his erection straining, throbbing inside his pants.

“You’re so beautiful, your body is…. Indescribable really.” The man mumbled, eyes trained on your form. A sheen of sweat was covering your skin, making you shimmer, making you slick. Aizawa’s hands itched as he looked at you, wanting desperately to wrap around your waist, to hold you close as he rut against you. But he wanted to prove a point. He wanted to show you that he could be nice, that he had been treating you good, that you shouldn’t be a childish brat and shout insults at him every day.

But god, was it hard to just sit back and watch you.

He unzipped his pants, reaching past the waistband of both pants and boxers, hissing as he took his erection in hand. He was wet, leaking precum, but did he expect anything else? You were laid out in front of him like a feast, delicious.

You were so overwhelmed by the vibrator strapped to your pussy, you didn’t even notice Aizawa beginning to jerk himself off. It’s probably better that way, he figures - if you realized what he was doing, you’d probably have a fit. Your cries faded into tearful whimpers, long whines, which then morphed into guilty moans, enjoyment that you couldn’t hide. When you came the first time, Aizawa was watching your body, stroking his cock in time to the way your hips jumped against the vibe.

When you came the second time, hair a mess, Aizawa moaned your name a little, his own cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as he squished his thumb against the tip of his cock.

The third time you came, screaming out muffled nonsense, Aizawa couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned forward, quickly undoing your gag, having to let go of his cock to work on the straps. When the plastic ball was free from your mouth, drool slicked over your chin, gulping breaths being taken, Aizawa surged forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he kissed you hungrily.

You whined into his mouth, naked chest pressed against his shirt, crying in overstimulation as the vibrations between your legs didn’t give up.

“Mhm, you taste-“ The man had broken away from your mouth, only to dive back in again for a quick taste before speaking again. “-so damn good.”

“Aizawa-Aiz-aah! Aah!” You keened, a fourth orgasm washing over you, leaving your nerves tingling, buzzy.

“That’s right, that’s who’s making you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you?” He pressed, crowding closer to you. He was in the process of pushing down his pants, his boxers, kicking them off.

“No, no no no, can’t-can’t-it hurts! Mmmfh-!” You moaned, back arching again.

“Don’t lie. Listen to yourself, you sound like a whore.” Aizawa chuckled breathlessly, turning you slightly onto your side. He was feeling hot, flushed, feverish. He wanted to do so many things - fuck you stupid, cuddle you close, give you warm hugs and kiss your pussy until you ground against his face.

“No I…. I don’t!” You yelped, the way he was positioning you pushing the vibrator into a different position. “Aiz-mmmm, Aizawa! Please-oh god, oh god-oh, please, st-OP!”

A kiss shut you up, Aizawa licking inside your mouth, feeling your saliva smear against his stubbled chin, felt you fighting against your bindings again. Where did you get all the energy?

He didn’t break the kiss to look down, to take himself in hand and guide his cock into the tight plushness of your thighs, right up against your dripping, messy cunt.

When he pushed forward, his mouth fell open. There was so much /pleasure/, he felt dumb, thick-headed and cotton-mouthed. You were so warm, so wet, and the vibrator was still buzzing away happily, pulsating through his cock as it rested against your pussy.

He wanted to cum, right then and there.

Feeling his thick cock pressing between your thighs, you wrenched yourself away from the kiss, whimpering as he pressed his cock up to chase the buzzing sensation, increasing the pressure of the vibe against your skin.

“Wait, ah, wait! Please, no more-mhmm! I’ll-I’ll be gO-od!” You whined, hips bucking again as the feeling built up again.

Aizawa thumbed at the wetness covering your face, trying to wipe away the tears, but simultaneously forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, I won’t look, there’s no need-fuck-no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.”

He reassured, knowing you were close to humming again. This time, he didn’t want you to have to finish alone.

With another gentle caress to your cheek, Aizawa grabbed your hips, before smoothly sliding his cock through your thighs, fucking right against your pussy. It felt incredible, better than anything else he’d ever experienced in his sex life - hell, in his entire existence.

Aizawa tried to hold himself back from humping against you, pumping his hips wildly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so worked up, not when you were moaning and gasping in his arms, shaking towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there, just a little longer.” He reassured, voice strained and almost cracking in pitch as he neared his end.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me! Don’t-aaah! No, no, plea-SE!”

Your muscles tensed, Aizawa could feel it, your body pressed so tightly against his own. Then you were gone, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed as you were forced into cumming again.

It made Aizawa burst, feeling your thighs tense around his cock, your cunt convulsing, body trembling. He came easily, covering the inside of your thighs with his sticky seed, before quickly pulling himself free.

He had just had an earth-shattering orgasm, but he needed to get you cleaned up. After all, you had just had /several/ earth shattering orgasms.

The vibe was turned off, the tape gently pulled away You flinched at every tug, skin burning with sensitivity, all of your nerves fried and overstimulated.

Tape off, Aizawa reached up and unbound your hands, quickly throwing the vibe and extra set of cuffs back towards the towel (he hoped - his brain wasn’t working well enough to know if he was accurate or not).

Aizawa felt... good, warm inside. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings swirling around in his chest, the contentedness that came from just holding you, but he couldn’t exactly deny all of it either.

The two of you sat there, you lost in your own headspace (subspace? Aizawa didn’t know the terms.. but for you, he’d be willing to learn).

“You did so well, look at you.” The man breathed, looking down at your body. Fuck him, even covered in sweat and cum and fluids, you were still the most enticing thing he had ever seen.

You didn’t respond, just occasionally blinking at the ceiling, still as a mouse.

You were submissive and compliant for the time being, not struggling when Aizawa gathered you into his arms, cradled your head to his chest. His heart soared at the physical contact - you hadn’t let him do so much as look at you without yelling or snarking some mean insult. This was progress.

Aizawa kissed the top of your head, noting that the two of you would need a long shower in a bit.

You were so fucked out, Aizawa almost felt a little bad at your disheveled state.

At least he had been merciful this time.

447 notes · View notes

sirikenobi12 · 3 years

Text

This Capt' goes down with her Ship

I’m honestly amazed at how many messages I receive both here and on Twitter that ask me why I ship Obi-Wan with Siri Tachi over Satine Kryze. I guess I’m mostly amazed because I can’t believe people actually care enough to take the time to message me about my character preferences, that’s just really fascinating to me.

But, since I’m getting tired of writing this out in individual messages I thought perhaps a blog would be a good idea so that way I can just reference/link them to it later - it’ll be much easier. So, bear with me while I get a little self indulgent (and Satine stans please don’t come at me, I will explain below how I really have nothing against Obitine).

This is going to be really long, and I’m not expecting anyone to actually read this, but here we go!

I’ll begin by answering questions that are sitting in my inbox:

1. Who the hell is Siri Tachi?? For those who don’t know the character of Siri Tachi, she was a female Jedi who was two years younger than Obi-Wan. She was originally from the Legends young reader book series Jedi Apprentice and Jedi Quest (written by Jude Watson). She was in many of the same Padawan classes as Obi-Wan even though she was two years his junior because of her advanced skills. She could hold her own against him in a lightsaber duel even as they grew up. She was chosen as an apprentice to Jedi Council Member Adi Gallia at age 11 which was very impressive given how young she was and the fact that a Council Member chose her.

(I don’t know why she looks like Brittany Spears in this drawing, not my fave)

She did have a hard time fitting in with her peers when she was younger though because she was so focused on her career as a Jedi which didn’t always make her the friendliest person to be around (it was really her masking her insecurities) and it was only after she was paired on several missions with Obi-Wan that they even became friends.

She and Obi-Wan over the years grew very close and eventually discovered their feelings had crossed the line from friends to something more while on a mission when they were older Padawans (Obi was 18). They had been separated from their masters and nearly died while on that mission. So, before they “died” they each confessed their love to the other, but when it turned out they didn’t actually die they decided they’d wait and figure out what their relationship actually meant once the mission was over - putting duty above their feelings. But Qui-Gon and Yoda intervene before the two of them could have the conversation and the Masters reminded Obi-Wan of his dedication to the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan argued that he and Siri would be able to find a way to be together while still being active Jedi, that maybe they could be an exception to the rule or even change the rule entirely. Both he and Siri did end up choosing their commitment to the Jedi over their relationship in the end, because each of them realized they’d regret not being Jedi more than anything, but it did put a strain on their friendship for many years.

At 23 Siri was secretly knighted and her first solo mission was sent undercover to infiltrate and take down a huge pirate slaver operation and she spent 4 years on that mission, all on her own with limited communication with the Council.

In order to do this she had to pretend to have a falling out with her Master and “leave” the Order entirely, everyone thought she had fallen to the dark side. Obi-Wan was devastated, and he spent several months looking for her because he refused to believe she’d actually fall. It was also clear that he was heartbroken that she left, especially knowing what they had given up in order to be Jedi. Upon ending the mission she returned to the Jedi and was then often sent on other undercover missions throughout the rest of her career (including one where she and Obi-Wan had to play a royal married couple which was super cute). Her actually being a Jedi Shadow is not official and is a fanfiction creation - but, it’s one that I 100% headcanon because it just makes sense.

Siri was very different when she returned from her long undercover mission, she had lived as a pirate for 4 years and so she was not as uptight and rule bound as she had been in her youth. She began to wear tight unisuits/flight suits instead of the traditional Jedi tunics and she had grown to be a bit more irreverent - even showing up late to Jedi Council summons. Obi-Wan didn’t seem to mind the change and the two became a formidable pair as Knights and they were sent together (with their Padawans who hated one another) on several missions.

Obi-Wan and Siri were always written as being equals, never one more powerful than the other. They often shared flirtatious banter (nothing new for Obi-Wan) and they seemed very much in sync on missions that it was clear they shared some kind of bond. They never seemed to let their failed romance stand between them and their duty, and only brought it up once more as adults to admit that they still loved each other, but were content to just be friends because it would be selfish of them to turn their backs on the Jedi simply for their love. Then upon Siri’s untimely death (she of course died in his arms) she told him that she’d always be with him. And he nearly fell to the dark side due to his anger, but stopped himself from killing the man who was responsible for Siri’s death because he knew she’d not want him to fall because of her.

In canon there isn’t much about her (yet), except that Siri is said to be the girl Obi-Wan would hold hands with under the table during mid-day meals which suggests that they had a bit of a secret affair/flirtation for many years.

2. Why don’t you like Satine? This is a bit of a loaded question because even though I tend to write fics centered more on Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the character of Satine or that I don’t swoon over their relationship from time to time thanks to some very well written fics ( @mahizli I’m looking your way). I just tend to write Siri more than Satine because I can relate to Siri more as a character, but in truth I also feel Siri and Obi-Wan’s relationship is a bit more well rounded than his and Satine’s

*ducks to avoid things being thrown at her*.

Satine and Obi-Wan have a beautiful love story, don’t get me wrong. But for me personally I am a little sick of the Romeo & Juliette/star crossed lovers angle. And that’s totally what they are - She’s a Mandalorian, He’s a Jedi, it’s a forbidden love not just because of his code, but because their “families” were mortal enemies. And I guess I’m just not super inspired by it. Not to mention that they met as children (apparently only 15 years old according to canon), confessed their undying love for one another after a year of knowing one another in a life or death situation and then pined for each other for the next 20 years until they were reunited...I just have a very hard time finding this story relatable (and hate to say it, plausible). Not that they couldn’t have felt love for one another as teenagers (especially in that situation), but that they still felt that same level of love 20 years later without ever seeing one another...at least with Siri they still had to interact with one another on a regular basis so it would be harder to push those feelings aside.

The other reason I have a hard time writing Satine and Obi-Wan is because the romantic love they seem to have in TCW is written to be very one sided in my opinion. While Obi-Wan clearly cares for her, and admits to having feelings for her at one time it’s only ever Satine who actually seems to want something with him in the current sense. Which honestly makes their relationship feels a bit cringy to me, it doesn’t feel like it’s on equal footing - and makes it seem like Satine is a bit obsessive (I don’t blame her, it is Obi-Wan after all). This is a similar argument I have about Padme’s character, I feel like we’re presented with these incredibly strong women characters who for whatever reason still fall apart when it comes to love...I think it’s a reflection of men trying to write women and it ends up being a bit of a fantasy (the sexy/badass woman who secretly needs a man to save her). So, to sum up - I really do love Satine’s character outside of her relationship with Obi-Wan.

Again, this is just MY interpretation of Satine and Obi-Wan’s relationship...I get other people tend to feel very differently and that’s wonderful!!

I will say, the thing I do like about Obi-Wan and Satine’s relationship and very much appreciate is how it is an opposite parallel to Anakin and Padme’s relationship. And it shows what a Jedi should’ve done - how you can’t have both a commitment to the Jedi Order and a marriage, but you can still care deeply about another person. I do very much appreciate that aspect of their relationship and it’s very well done from that perspective.

3. So, why SiriWan after all these years? Well, I’m drawn to Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship for several reasons, but mostly because they are written as equals/partners (as I had mentioned above), both have moments where you can see the love they hold for one another - their feelings are very much shared and not one sided, but above all it’s not the main defining factor of their relationship. They are Jedi and friends before anything else, and I love that! It may not be as flashy or maybe even as passionate as say Satine or Cody but to me it’s more full and well rounded. I can also see their relationship growing and changing over the years, they aren’t stuck in one place or in the past.

I also tend to find the Jedi culture more fascinating than the Mandalorians. I know, I know, I’m a heretic. That’s not to say, again that I don’t think Satine on her own isn’t fascinating, I just am a little tired of Mandalore’s importance in virtually every aspect of Star Wars these days and I feel like there is only so much you can do with Obi-Wan having feelings for a Mandalorian, where as him navigating a relationship with another Jedi is more interesting. The Jedi are allowed to be intimate with people, contrary to popular belief they are allowed to love, they just can’t become possessive/attached - I feel like two Jedi would have an easier time navigating that than someone who wasn’t raised with that same code. I think Siri and Obi-Wan have more opportunities to have a more realistic and adult relationship and I like writing/exploring that.

The other thing I like about Siri and Obi-Wan specifically is the fact that neither ever really considered leaving the Order for the other. They knew how important being a Jedi was to the other, and I think having a love interest that Obi-Wan didn’t consider leaving for is an important distinction.

Instead he thought they would be able to change the rules/code because he assumed it would be obvious that their love was pure and not an attachment. Now, obviously they both realized later that it was just foolish/young love talking (because I’m sure teenagers have to be extra careful of forming attachments), but what I really adore the concept that Obi-Wan “by the code” Kenobi had loved Siri so much that he’d even remotely consider the idea that he’d want the rules to change for her/them (and Siri “by the code” Tachi felt the same about him). There is something incredibly romantic about that - naïve, but romantic.

I also believe that romantic love doesn’t automatically equal “true love”. I personally feel that Obi-Wan and Siri have a love that is on such a deep level that their relationship doesn’t always have to be romantic. They simply just love one another, in whatever form that takes at any given period in time throughout their lives, sometimes it takes the form of just friends, sometimes lovers, sometimes romantic. And I wish we saw more relationships like that in various media. But I get why we don’t, they are harder to write and less overtly sexy/dramatic.

Also, when someone says the phrase:

“Forgive me if I still think I know you better than anyone.” (Siri)

And it’s followed immediately with:

“You do” (Obi-Wan)

My heart just melts, because that to me is love!!

4. So, you actually think Obi-Wan loved both Siri & Satine? Yes, I do...100%. I think they all loved other people at different points in their lives. I personally feel that most of Obi-Wan’s various ships (with exceptions of Master/Padawan ships...sorry, just not my bag) actually happened. I could see a young Obi-Wan having a fling with Quinlan Vos (I doubt they could handle more than that), I could definitely see him have an attraction/affection towards Cody (I don’t think given the power dynamic Obi-Wan would ever allow anything to actually happen between them though), I even believe he and Ventress had a rather confusing and passionate night together (maybe even more than one), I can see him easily having a relationship at one point with Taria Damsin (to which Siri would give him endless crap about because he seems to have a thing for Jedi Shadows). I’m sure he even had a relationship with Annileen on Tatooine to help find some comfort during his exile. To me all of that makes so much more sense than him (and Satine) pining away for one another for 20+ years.

Allowing Obi-Wan to have multiple loves in his life also helps showcase the idea of non-attachment. It’s not that Jedi promote promiscuity - though they won’t judge anyone for it (I see the Jedi very much in the mindset of: it’s your body/your choice) it’s that the idea of attachment means possessing someone, thinking you own someone and also putting that person’s value over others. The idea that Obi-Wan could find love and value in a multitude of lovers to me shows him capable of loving without attachment - He is able to let these people go when the relationship has run its course...it’s very healthy.

Not to mention that realistically people tend to have multiple relationships and loves throughout their lives. To only ever love one person is incredibly unrealistic, unhealthy and frankly screams attachment to me *cough Anakin, cough*.

In conclusion: If you’re still reading this (did you not have anything better to do with your time???) I do hope you have a bit more of an understanding why I personally like to write Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship instead of his and Satine’s. Though if you read my fics (thank you if you do) I hope you realize that I try to not make the stories all about their relationship - yes, it pops up here and there, but I try not to make it the focal point. I believe both Obi-Wan and Siri are so much more than just a romance and that’s what I really love writing.

But I raise a glass and toast all of those who prefer to ship Obitine or CodyWan or Ventrobi (or whatever Obi-Wan and Quilan’s ship name is) - I love reading your take on those relationships and I hope you don’t mind if an old SiriWan shipper joins the fun!

Phew, rant over...man, does anyone else have to defend their OTP preferences to strangers?? It’s just so odd to me!

Thanks for reading, and if you’re a Siri, Obi-Wan or SiriWan fan drop me a line - I can seriously talk about them for hours!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #sw meta #long rant #long post #sorry yall #my otp for life #siri tachi #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #siriwan #obi wan x siri #why do people care who I ship?#jedi culture #jedi apprentice #jedi quest

64 notes · View notes

tintinwrites · 4 years

Text

if i loved you | Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: It’s been a bit since I’ve wrote about my mans Poe!

Rating: 18+

Warning: P in V sex which is not wrapped up but please wrap it up with your partners. Naughty words. A wee angsty.

Word count: 2,823, apparently!!

Summary: You and Poe are good friends who finally admit to each other that you want more in case the First Order wins the war.

GIF credit: @damerondjarin (thank you baby!)

Tags: @damerondjarin @bisexual-space-slut @writefightandflightclub

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

Poe Dameron was beautiful.

It wasn’t because of the head full of dark, thick curls or the perfectly sculpted lines of his face — though, those were obviously very nice too — but because he was kind. He was good.

He was funny, and brave, and charming, and the man you trusted most in the entire galaxy.

There were times he could be reckless or perhaps a bit too sly, but he never did things to purposely hurt people.

He was absolutely beautiful, and that was the only way to describe it without going on about him for hours.

Even with his laughter faked and the war heavy in his gaze, you thought he was the grandest person you’d ever known.

This was why you were a little in love with him just like everyone else was, why your heart seemed to forget its rhythm every time you saw him, why you’d hold his hand or lay your head on his shoulder without question since you knew it grounded him and reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

He walked over to you now as you spoke to Rose and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into his side like you were lovers who held each other, your fingers trailing up and down his back through the smooth material of his shirt.

“You mind if I borrow her?” His arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you in closer, and you rolled your eyes as your free hand moved to grab onto his wrist.

“Should I be worried about him choking you out if I let him take you?” Rose asked with a teasing edge.

“Oh, she’s fine.” He expertly tightened his arm on you, enough to drag you with him easily and not hurt you as he did.

“Wait, no, Rose, help!” Now both your hands were reaching up to hold onto his arm, letting your feet drag to make it hard for him to pull you along.

Poe grunted, Rose rolled her eyes, and you laughed; these were some of your favorite moments, between the worrying, and the uncertainty, and the dogfights, and the combat, where you and your friends were a few dumbasses grappling for joy.

You were turned around and released from Poe’s hold, nudged forward to walk down the path made by your boots that lead to the spot you went to think or cry.

It was under a tree with leaves that hung down like strings and fluttered in the rare breeze on Ajan Kloss, and Poe found you there one day when he saw footprints in the mud; it became his place, too, and that somehow made you love it more, knowing there was someone else who needed to think by themselves and considered the tree to be as comforting as you did.

Especially when that person was Poe, the bravest man you knew needing to take a step back just like someone a little less important and a whole lot less brave like you.

“Sit down.” He nudged you in the side, laughing when you shoved him and stumbling over to sit with his back against the trunk of the tree.

“Did you bring me here to be demanding and frustrating?” You sat in front of him, both of you sitting cross-legged with your knees brushing briefly before you sat back in the dirt.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you with gentle eyes and a soft smile, and you squirmed a bit self-consciously under his gaze.

You looked away from him quickly and ran your fingers through a patch of soft dirt.

“You feel it, too?” His head was tilted when you glanced up at him almost shyly.

“Feel what?” You knew that Poe was incredible and you’d always wanted something a little more than friendship, but you didn’t want to assume that he was talking about that.

“The pull. To me. To you. The way I see you across a room full of pilots and technicians and it’s like we’re the only two people there.”

“You...what?”

You understood exactly what he meant, thinking back on all the times someone had been talking to you and you didn’t hear a word they said because Poe walked into the room, but he was saying it to you? And so casually?

Your heart was fluttering if that were possible at the sincerity in his eyes, the slight nervousness as if you were going to reject him.

“You’re one of my closest friends, but I...I don’t know. I always thought there was something more and that we, uh, we never got the timing right.” He scratched the back of his head, laughing softly at himself.

“No, no, I know, but I...I thought I was a little infatuated with you like everyone else is.” Your hands were fidgeting and you looked down at them.

One of Poe’s hands slid over yours, stilling them and making you look up at him. “I was just thinking that maybe since we’re gonna have to deal with the First Order soon, we found the time.”

You paused. “Are you doing the ‘this world is ending so let’s fuck’ speech right now?”

He immediately reached up to cup your cheeks and tilted your head a little to make you look into his eyes. “If I was doing something like that, I would’ve picked anyone. But with you, it’s more, like...I’ve wanted to do this with you and I want to do it now if—”

“Don’t,” you said quickly because you knew what he was going to say.

He wanted to be with you if the First Order won, like this was the only way the two of you would be able to show each other how deeply you cared.

You wanted it too; you wanted to be with him that closely, to show him how beautiful he was and maybe be shown that you were just as beautiful to him.

And you were thinking that the First Order really could win and Poe wouldn’t know how much you wanted him or admired him, but you pushed that thought back.

This would just be the two of you admitting that you wanted to be more than friends.

“You can say no, obviously, I’d never expect anything of you because of my position or because of the First Order—” Poe’s eyes widened when you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands squeezing his knees tightly.

“I want this, but I want it to be about...about us and what we want from each other, not about the war.” Your lips were practically against his as you told him this, not liking the thought of pulling away from him even though the kiss was quick and simple.

“Yes, okay, sweetheart, I love that.”

Poe was nodding like a fool with how much he loved such a small kiss, reaching up to cup your face as he kissed you fully. He ran the tip of his tongue along your lips and immediately pushed it between them as your mouth opened with a pleased gasp, moaning at the taste of you.

You moved onto your knees to kiss him at an angle that allowed you to move closer, your hands going to his wrists as he gently held your jaw.

He let you pull away when you needed, but you pressed a couple more little kisses to his lips that he was happy to indulge. “You wanna go to my quarters?”

“No. Here. Please? Under our tree.” You ran the tip of your nose over his which made his eyelids flutter.

“Take off your clothes,” he said simply, yanking his shirt over his head and then lifting his hips with his back against the tree to shove his pants down.

You laughed at his eagerness to be with you here under the swinging leaves, moving back and standing up to take off your shirt and pants. You were wearing underwear unlike somebody, which you quickly took off too.

“Even prettier than I imagined it.” His eyes roamed over you with a dreamy smile on his lips.

You walked over to him and moved to straddle his lap, wiggling slightly when something pressed into your thigh. “Bigger than I imagined.”

He groaned, his hands sliding up to caress your hips. “Is that good?”

“You wanna know what people like to say about you, Dameron?” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Mm?” He gazed into your eyes as his hand moved between your legs and stroked over your folds, smiling at your little gasp and the buck of your hips.

“They say...you’re so nice that your cock is probably huge.”

“What’s your opinion?”

His middle finger was circling your clit and it took you a moment to remember what the hell words meant. “I think...you’re big, but it wouldn’t matter either way because you’re already showing how kind and talented you are by touching me.”

“Oh? This talent?” He pushed a finger into you slowly, letting his mouth drop open with yours before he grinned, pumping his finger slowly.

“Fuck, Poe.” You gripped onto the hair at the nape of his neck as you rode his finger.

“Stars, you’re even more beautiful when you’re turned on, you know that?” He leaned forward and started with a kiss pressed to your chin, which quickly moved down your neck as you tilted your head back for him.

What could you say to such a sweet compliment like that, especially with his finger thrusting into you and his soft lips pressing against all the perfect spots on your neck? You leaned into him and played with his curls absentmindedly.

He’d been stroking a spot inside you that made your hips buck each time his finger brushed over it so you were pretty wet, but you let out a loud, long moan when his thumb moved to your clit anyway.

His thumb tapped against your clit a few times, building something up with the rhythm, and you knew you were capable of coming from that even if they were only short, little taps.

You were honestly close to orgasm with his attentions to your neck and between your legs, your clit tingling and your cunt fluttering as a way to tell you that you were about to tumble into that pleasure, but you quickly grabbed onto Poe’s hand.

A fading orgasm was always disappointing, but there was something you wanted. “Not until you’re inside of me, Poe.”

His jaw dropped slightly, but he nodded and pulled his hand away from you, using your wetness to stroke his cock.

“Let me.” You slid a hand down from his hair to wrap around him, stroking him gently and watching with a smile as his head thunked back against the tree trunk.

“Perfect...you’re perfect...can’t believe I waited until now...I should’ve…” He trailed off when your lips pressed against his and that was kind of the point; you didn’t want to hear him say that he should’ve done this sooner, should’ve been with you, should’ve asked him into your bed the moment you knew you liked him as more than a friend.

Or...should’ve asked you into his bed the moment he knew he liked you as more than a friend.

Were these your thoughts or Poe’s thoughts?

You broke away from the kiss with a little gasp and leaned your head against his. “Can I take you inside me? Please, Poe?”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You need to ask?”

“Just want to be sure you want me.” You moved a little bit closer, hips nestling into his as you lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Want you? I’ve wanted you since the day I fucking met you, baby. Didn’t think I could ever want someone that much. Then I wanted you more when I...fuck...knew you.” His pause had been because you sank down onto him and you were so tight and wet that it took him a moment to formulate words.

You were trying to think of how good he felt rather than how you should’ve…

Like he could tell by your tightly closed eyes that you were becoming emotional, he moved his hand back between your legs and rubbed slow circles on your clit, pulling a moan out of you.

Your hips started to slowly move up and down on him as you hid your face against his neck, listening to the gorgeous sound of his moans at the friction of your movements.

His other hand was tickling your side, doing his best to keep your emotions from wandering away from what you were doing with him in this moment.

“Sorry, I’m...I’m close.” Your hips jerked a little bit, still wound up from his touches before you’d taken him inside you.

“It’s okay, baby. Let go for me.” He kissed the side of your head as he pressed more firmly on your clit.

It took a few more strokes from his fingers before you stopped moving and gripped onto him tightly, letting out a low moan as your walls clenched down around him.

He groaned, closing his eyes tightly and helping you to ride out your orgasm as long as you could; his stamina was something he liked to pride himself on, but you felt so damn nice, and you were pleasured, and there were so many emotions that he pushed back against the tree and held onto your hips as he fucked up into you in search of his own climax.

A slight whine fell from his lips as he thrust up into you as deeply as he could and spilled his cum into you, happy and turned on enough to come so quickly since he knew you’d orgasmed.

When you came down from your high to the sound of Poe panting in your ear, so close to him, so safe, and...and...you should’ve done this so much sooner. You would’ve had time to laugh together, and make love, and kiss in so many different ways, and make some kind of life together before…

You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard yourself sob against his neck and he was shushing you, fingers running up and down your back. You couldn’t see it, but he was doing his best to hold back tears.

Was this all you were going to do with Poe before the First Order killed or imprisoned you both? How much time had you wasted without him because you were too timid to tell him you wanted him?

Being with him like this only made you regret the life you wouldn’t enjoy together even more.

You were so glad to have shown him how beautiful you thought he was and that you were able to do this with him, but you wanted him more now than you ever did.

“Shh, it’s okay, we’re gonna win, okay, baby?” He said softly, unconvincingly. “We’re gonna kick Kylo Ren’s pasty ass and then we can do anything we want. You wanna fuck in every possible way? Done. You wanna go relax on a planet in...fuck, I don’t even know how long? We can do that. You want a family? I’d love that, too. You wanna get married? I’d do it right now if you wanted.” He frowned as you hiccuped into him. “You listening to me?”

“We’re gonna win.” You said softly, unconvincingly.

He sat there with you as he silently thought of his own concerns of not winning the war, holding you and stroking you until you’d stopped crying and snuggled into him. “I was serious, by the way.”

You looked up at him with your brow furrowed slightly. “What?”

“I’d marry you right now if you want. Take down the First Order with my wife by my side.” He was smiling so sweetly that you knew you did want that, even if you’d taken a long time to admit your feelings to him.

“Okay.” You nodded, eyes showing the love you didn’t realize the pull to him was.

“You want to?”

“Let’s go get married.”

And you did, and it was on a whim, and you were giggling instead of crying as you vowed yourself to your best friend and ran off to his quarters like newlyweds that were going to build something great.

He took the ring from the chain on his neck off once you’d made love again and put it on your finger, musing against your lips about how it fit perfectly.

Maybe it would make it easier, you thought, to lose the war with a ring that symbolized what seemed like love on your finger, knowing that you were Poe’s and he was yours as Kylo Ren gloated over his victory.

But, stars, you hoped you won and this could be so much more.

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #poe dameron fic

338 notes · View notes

ereawrites · 4 years

Text

Tim Drake - NSFW Alphabet!

this was not requested

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tim, as much as he enjoys it in the moment, can’t cope with being messy/sweaty etc after you’re done. He likes to shower together after sex - lots of kisses, mumbling how amazing you are into your skin, cleaning each other while half-holding each other up with exhaustion. After that, he loves to go back to bed and play with your hair while you both drift off to sleep. This is one of the only times Tim will sleep straight through the night.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, Tim likes his hands. He has long, slender fingers: much of his childhood was spent playing piano, and his handwriting is gorgeous when he actually tries. They’re often stained with ink, which reminds him how hard he works. Also... major fingering kink. Huge. He will happily finger you for hours.

On you, Tim is absolutely in love with your shoulders, collarbones, and neck. He thinks they all look so graceful and elegant. During foreplay and a lot of sex, Tim basically has to have his lips somewhere in this area. A surefire way to catch his attention is to wear an off-shoulder dress, or a nice necklace. (He may ask you to keep the necklace on during sex).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Looooves to come onto your chest and collarbones. He isn’t so keen on coming inside, mostly because it lowkey terrifies him, but he can be convinced in the heat of the moment if you ask nicely enough. Tim comes a lot. Even after one round, there’s still a lot coming out of there. You will need a lot of tissues.

As an extension of the fingering kink, if you squirt, Tim will go absolutely nuts. He’ll totally lose his mind, and keep going until you do it three more times. He doesn’t care if he gets messy. He’s a champ and he powers through and it actually turns him on a ridiculous amount.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

...he didn’t mean to do it, he just couldn’t help himself. It was one of the first times you slept at the manor, and you had to rush home in the morning - you quickly woke him up to say goodbye, but he was in the middle of a sex dream, and in all the rush you left behind your sweatshirt. Tim ended up holding it to his nose and furiously jacking off right after you left.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s definitely messed around with a few people by the time he meets you, but he’s quite possibly a virgin. Tim takes a long time to open up to anyone enough to actually have sex with them, so he tends to stick to foreplay for a long time. However, this means he’s very, very talented at foreplay; he’s also a very quick learner, and he loves to spend a long time getting to know his partner’s body. So, yes, he definitely knows what he’s doing, he just might be a little shy at first.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl or the face-off. He loves being topped, and watching you on top of him is heaven for him. Plus, he can get to your clit easily in these positions. He’s totally happy to experiment with any positions you like, though.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tim’s generally more serious - he doesn’t get much time with you, and he wants to be fully involved and focused in the moment. Especially for the first few times you have sex, Tim has a very intense focus about him, and he’s totally concerned with your pleasure. Once he learns your body more, though, moments of goofiness and laughter can shine through.

H = Harmony (do they like music in the background?)

Once Tim gets his hands on you, everything else is tuned out. He couldn’t care less about what’s going on in the background. The one exception to this is if there are other people in the building: Tim tries to have some background music or radio to seem less suspicious.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tim’s only really likely to have sex with you if he genuinely loves you, or at least cares about you very deeply. You can feel this in each of his touches. It’s as if he’s in awe of you, literally worshipping your body, and there’s a very specific kind of gentle, loving intensity. If you’re taking charge, it’s quite common for him to gasp, god, you’re perfect, I love you so much-

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Outside of a relationship, Tim almost never jacks off. He often goes months without touching himself, simply because he never allows himself to relax enough to do so. He’ll only ever do it if, for example, you inadvertently get him so riled up that he can’t control it any longer. Even once he’s in a relationship, he rarely does it. He’d prefer to wait for you. Phone sex is the big exception, though - regular business trips are made a little easier by hearing your voice.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Masochist, femdom, bondage (on you or him), vibrators and cock rings, risky/semi-public sex, fingering, sensation play e.g. ice, blindfolds (on him), hair pulling, hickeys (on you), edging, sending nudes

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

1. The bedroom

2. Shower

3. Office/kitchen counter (tie)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The easiest way to turn Tim on is, simply, to let it be known that you want him while also encouraging him to relax. Press up against him when you kiss him a goodbye on the cheek in the morning, and you’ll be in his head all day. Run your nails down his shoulders while you massage them. Coax him into bed because you ‘can't sleep without him”. Tim is always lowkey horny, you just have to get him thinking about sex.

Once you get going, Tim very easy gets caught up in everything. He lives to hear your moans and watch your expressions. The more pleasure he gives you, the more he wants to give.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No sharing. Tim has enough insecurities, and he doesn’t want that amplified by getting someone else involved. He also doesn’t want anything that has the potential to cause real harm (e.g. knives) - pain is fine, but he would never forgive himself if he genuinely hurt you. As for turn offs, Tim doesn’t like anyone who is too full of themselves or overly arrogant. He also hates someone who acts too aloof.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Tim does enjoy giving oral - especially after you’ve came once or twice already - but, again, he’d honestly prefer to finger you or at least have his hands involved. He finds it stupidly hot if you sit on his face. He doesn’t care if he can’t breathe, he’ll literally grab your hips and pull you down onto him harder.

He definitely prefers to receive (he isn’t selfish, he repays you) since it’s one of the only times he can completely let go. As much as he knows it’s a cliche, he goes absolutely crazy for a blowjob under his office desk.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He usually goes for a slow, intense pace if he’s in control. He wants to savour every moment and each one of your reactions; that means a steady, thorough pace, so he can angle each one of his thrusts just right. However, when he’s particularly high on adrenaline (or jealous) he adopts a faster and less sensual pace.

If you’re taking the reins, Tim’s a sucker for a rougher pace. Tease him by going slow at first, then work it up so you’re practically bruising his hips with how hard you’re riding him, and watch his eyes roll right back into his skull.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Of course Tim prefers to take the time to really indulge, but his schedule doesn’t often allow that. The majority of sex with Tim is probably quickies. For example: in his office on his lunch break, on the kitchen table before leaves for work, in a side alley on a quiet night of patrol. He also loves a quick phone call in the middle of meetings. Once you figure out how to rile him up enough and get him in the mood, you’ll receive a lot of frantic and desperate calls.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Obviously. He gets off so much on knowing there’s a risk of being caught, pressing his palm over your mouth while he buries his own moans in the crook of your neck. He’s much less keen on risking any harm to you.

As for experimentation, Tim is all for it, but you have to give him time to research it first. He needs to be fully prepared and informed for anything he does. Tim’s actually pretty likely to suggest new things, depending on whatever he finds during this research: especially as he becomes more experienced, he suggests a lot of new things to try together (pegging). He trusts you completely.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Pretty good stamina - enough to make you come at least once, but he usually chooses to slow down and pace himself so he can make you come two or three times (<3). He kind of loses it and comes fast if you ride him hard and maybe push him down, but he’ll make up for it. Tim’s entirely capable of going two or three rounds if you’ve got the time and the energy; this generally happens when he comes home after a few weeks away. If you’re feeling down or insecure, though, there’s at least 2 rounds of body worship coming your way.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I’m just gonna say it. Tim has a butt plug. He busts it out after particularly stressful weeks, and although it’s something he initially keeps quiet, he can be convinced to bring it into your bed if that’s something you’re into. He also loves it when you use cockrings or restraints on him. On you, Tim absolutely loves using vibrators.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not the biggest tease at first, but the real teasing comes when he starts edging you. Tim doesn't necessarily mean it in a cruel way - unless you’ve asked him to - and it’s more in a way of building you up to an even stronger orgasm. He feels a little bad if he teases you too much. Even when he’s playfully flirting, he never really takes it far enough for it to become teasing - he prefers to stay vaguely suggestive and let your mind do the rest. For Tim, it’s all about you teasing him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lots of breathy moans, pants of your name, and this can sometimes devolve into whimpers as he gets closer to his orgasm. He doesn’t often verbalise, since he’s normally too far gone to actually string sentences together, but when he does it’s praise. He’s not ridiculously loud but his moans are pretty much constant, and occasionally you get one out of him that the neighbours definitely hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He comes on the spot the first time you bite his shoulder.

X = X-marks the spot (where’s their favourite place to give/receive hickies)

Tim doesn't exactly have a possessive streak, but he can become easily insecure and likes to know that you're clearly ‘his’. He loves to leave hickies across your collarbone, just low enough that they can be covered if need be, but he secretly goes wild if you leave them just poking out over the collar of your shirt. He thinks they’re a little juvenile, though, so he doesn’t mark you unless something sets him off.

He has quite pale skin and bruises very easily. This makes him a dream to leave marks on. He tells you not to, since they’re a pain to explain to the family, but if you suck bruises into his hipbones during a blowjob he’s going to have to bite down on his hand to keep quiet.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

As above - he’s pretty much always lowkey, background-level horny. Tim is always up for sex, as long as you get him thinking about it for a few hours beforehand. In the average week, Tim will probably go for sex around two times, but this can be more if you’ve been apart for a long time beforehand.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’ve got about ten to fifteen minutes to clean up, tell him how much you love him, and get back into bed before he’s out like a light. On the upside, Tim’s very cuddly after sex, and you’ll wake up wrapped in his arms.

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #smut #dc #dcu #batman

186 notes · View notes

costellos · 4 years

Text

author’s note: I like to think that this takes place shortly after the gang realizes that they’re in love! I also wanted to take a more harem route on this (bc this blog is all about self indulgence, duh) so there are more mentions of the boys getting jealoooous ꉂ(´艸`●) anywho, I had a blast writing this and I hope you have a blast reading it!!

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & how you know that they’re in love!

bruno bucciarati.

tries not to make it obvious that he’s assigning more missions with you. Bucciarati tries to sprinkle in assignments where you work alone when he can; those days, he’ll tag along in the car just to spend a little more time with you. this infuriates Fugo to no end.

(you can’t help but notice Fugo being unusually snarky at most everything Bucciarati says during the ride.)

he starts to ask for your opinion on how to handle new missions. part of it is because he genuinely values your take, part of it is to spend time alone with you. ↳ “ah... I see. you make a valid point there. I’m glad that I came to you first, you always have such valuable insight.”

Bucciarati had always requested an update after a mission’s completion, but recently, those conversations seem to go longer. he asks more details about the mission, if there was anything interesting about it. if you mention you got hurt, he’ll ensure you get the best care Italy has to offer.

like a true gentleman, he always makes time to walk you home at night. you live on the opposite side of time from him, and despite your protests, he insists that it’s fine. ↳ “please, [Name]. I’d rather do this than wake up tomorrow to find that something happened to you.”

sometimes old ladies will giggle if they see you and Bucciarati on walks together. if you ask what they think is so funny, they’ll comment that it’s so nice to see him finally making time for relationships.

he’s smooth about brushing them off, however. he calls you a good friend, but subtly hints that he’s interested in entering the dating world.

unofficial first date: he takes his time walking you home after a meeting. casually suggests that you should walk along Naples’s port. after all, it’s a warm summer night. why waste it? he would let you carry the conversation since he loves hearing your voice, and would only chime in as he sees fit. you note that throughout the entire night, Bucciarati has a smile on his lips.

leone abbacchio.

obviously not as rude as usual. he’ll still make snippy comments at you as he sees fit, but he also offers praise (a concept that you’re not quite used to yet). with enough time, those snippy comments turn into teasing. ↳ “jesus, [Name], you want three shots? was Mista really that unbearable to partner with this week?”

once that happens, he’ll direct his comments to the others. he’s ruthless when it comes to insulting the others’ attempts at wooing you (especially if it’s Giorno). Narancia will be the first to object, calling him out on trying to impress you too.

he’ll just shrug when this happens. it’s not his fault that their motives are so apparent.

anyway, Abbacchio has always been the type to put the mission before anything else. but during a particularly rough stand battle, you notice that he made the extra effort to guarantee your safety. though you do try to confront him, he brushes it off. ↳ “we wouldn’t have been able to advance without you. fight harder next time so I don’t have to save your ass again.”

you can’t help but notice the slight pink on his cheeks. caught red-handed, it seems.

if you’re going on a mission by yourself, Abbacchio will take the time to stop you and wish you good luck. brief and straightforward, nothing too fancy.

he’s willing to do things if you ask. before he’d tell you to ask someone else, but now... he might scoff or sigh or do nothing at all, but he’ll still accept.

surprisingly, he becomes the most comfortable to be around when things get quiet. Abbacchio is a firm believer that strong relationships don’t need to have mindless chatter. if you don’t have anything to say, he won’t push it, and that’s okay. no awkward silences will come from him.

unofficial first date: he invites you back to his place after a meeting. it’s raining and he doesn’t live far. he would make you any drink you fancy, but would be especially amused if you requested alcohol. it’s a casual affair; talk a little, watch some TV if that’s your thing. would let you stay the night if you wanted to! he wouldn’t make it weird, though. he’d just make his bed for you while he takes the couch.

giorno giovanna.

he starts talking to you more than anyone else in the gang. you took Giorno as the kind of person who won’t speak unless spoken to during moments of peace, so to have him casually start conversation with you feels... odd. but not uncomfortable.

he’s not fond of fighting for your attention amongst the gang. hence, he tries to make small yet meaningful impressions on you. he’ll order your usual at Libeccio if you’re running late (you didn’t even tell him what it was, he picked up after countless meetings) or leave you your favorite dessert at your doorstep on your days off (he remembered it from an off-hand comment).

on that note, Giorno starts leaving little things around for you, such as a single flower on your desk. small gifts that he knows would make you happy, even if for a moment. he himself gets happy thinking about your smile.

he would compliment you if he found it appropriate (usually for your fighting), but now he compliments you on everything. just in quieter ways. ↳ “you coordinated this plan flawlessly, [Name]. I truly wonder if there’s anything you can’t do.”

surprisingly, he also starts teasing you. nothing major, he just starts being more friendly toward you. his nonchalant exterior melts for something more familiar. ↳ “you must really like the rain. that’s the third time this week you’ve forgotten an umbrella. it’s alright, though, I brought one for the both of us.”

he’s honestly a pro at handling Abbacchio’s accusations. he plays it cool, saying that you’ve both gotten closer lately. he emphasizes the “closer” part, though. it might be considered sadistic on his part, but he enjoys watching his superior get annoyed.

(which, of course, irritates Abbacchio a lot.)

unofficial first date: he asks you to accompany him to his campus; apparently his school has rare frog species in the bio labs and he needs to observe it “for reference.” walks you through the biology department and shares what he knows about each species present. he loves amusing you with neat little fun facts, but he loves seeing your face light up at the cute little creatures more.

guido mista.

he’s the first to compliment you. about anything, really. how well your new shirt fits you, how your skin looks a little brighter today. all of it is genuine, and all of it is to see you smile just from something that he said. Giorno comments that he’s being overbearing.

(he retaliates by saying that there’s no harm in being nice to another teammate. Mista tries to be nonchalant about it, but he’s actually embarrassed that he’s that easy to read.)

he’ll follow you around everywhere. if you say that you’re going to run to the corner store before the meeting starts, he’ll tag along. if you mention you’re going to Chiaia this weekend to go shopping, he’ll casually mention that he’s going there too and that you should meet up.

the Pistols start paying more attention to you. they’ll dance around your shoulders, play on your hands — anything to get your attention. Mista gets flustered when this happens and barks at them to come back. ↳ “oi, what the hell do you think you’re doing?! leave them alone!”

this rarely works, though.

(Mista never even gets the chance to confess that he loves you. the Pistols do it before he can. because of that, he would likely be the first to confess to you.)

he’s a sucker for pop culture. if he hasn’t watched it, he’ll tune in to any movie or TV show that you like. he’s desperate to get closer to you so there really isn’t a downside to this, even if he doesn’t like it. he’d then talk about it to you, discussing plot elements and whatnot. ↳ “whaaaa? okay, okay, okay. back up. so he purposely killed himself to force his kids to come together?”

unofficial first date: the most traditional out of the gang. he asks if you want to join him to watch a movie starring your favorite actor / actress. would pay for your ticket too, obviously. he tries to play it cool, though! just going as two friends.... yeah...... friends...... he won’t pull any funny business but he’d love to discuss your thoughts on the movie afterwards.

narancia ghirga.

Narancia is the most obvious about his feelings for you outside of Mista.

for one thing, he starts saving a seat for you next to him at Libeccio. Narancia gets defensive if anyone tries to take it. Bucciarati has to intervene by asking him to stop and let you sit wherever you want preferably next to Bucciarati himself.

likewise, he sits really close to you. like, shoulders-almost-touching close. he’d back away if you ask, however.

he’s bad at taking criticisms from the others (he would be the worst if it wasn’t for Fugo). if he gets called out by Bucciarati, he’ll sink in his seat and pout. if anyone else does it, he’ll challenge them and call them hypocrites. it’s an uncomfortable situation.

when that does happen, he’ll scoff and say that you should leave with him. ↳ “ugh, I can’t stand this place. c’mon, let’s go somewhere else.”

he’ll invite himself to your missions if he can beat Mista to it. insists that you need backup and that Aerosmith can guarantee your safety. after all, his stand is meant for detecting threats.

if he does manage to tag along, you notice that Narancia starts showing off during missions. not only does he fight more aggressively, he also has Aerosmith do all sorts of flashy moves.

he looks up to you so much. he sees you as a role model of sorts, often thinking what you would do in certain scenarios. it helps him rationalize situations and keep his cool under pressure. ↳ “okay. relax. what would [Name] do...?”

unofficial first date: he asks if you’d like to see something cool after shopping for snacks post-meeting. from there, he leads you to the rooftop of a nearby residential building. it’s a struggle to get up there since you have to climb an array of pipes and balconies to reach it, but he helps you up. it’s quiet on the roof, and you can peacefully talk about life with nothing but a couple sodas and the stars above you.

pannacotta fugo.

always volunteers to drive you to your missions. any more time with you is time well spent. Mista catches onto this quickly and will promptly tease him anytime Fugo offers a ride.

on that note, he gets really defensive if someone teases him about wanting to spend more time with you. hands down, he’s the worst at handling others calling him out. it might trigger an outburst regardless if they were joking or not.

oddly enough, however, he immediately relaxes if you so much as clasp his shoulder. part of it is that your touch is so gentle he can ease up. part of it is he’s embarrassed for losing control in front of you. he gets flustered afterwards. ↳ “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. let’s move on.”

he’s more patient with you than the others. he hates repeating himself, but you notice that he doesn’t seem to make an issue when it comes to you (much to Narancia’s chagrin).

if you’re going on a mission by yourself, Fugo makes the effort to stop you before you head out. he’d ask that you be careful and that if you need any help to let him know. however, he tries to cover that up and say that he knows you’re capable.

likewise, he’s a lot more doting on you now. he’s the first to check up on you following a mission. if you’re hurt, he wouldn’t hesitate to tend to you (not before chastising you). ↳ “tch. I told you to be more careful, and this is how you respond? you really are hopeless... but I’m glad that this cut isn’t anything major.”

he detests how the others act around you. how Mista and Narancia are always inviting themselves to your missions, how Bucciarati is quick to walk you back home, how cool Abbacchio is around you despite his own feelings... Fugo wishes he could be more forward with you, but he knows that’s just not who he is.

unofficial first date: he asks you to accompany him to the archives of a library. it’s for “research” he claims, to look up something relevant for the next mission. he would show you all the dumb records that the library contains. he loves sharing something so small with you! but he loves it even more when he can make you laugh. feeling something other than anger is an event he can only experience with you.

#bucci gang #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #golden wind #giorno giovanna #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #headcanons #captainfishiebishie #special thanks to captainfishiebishie for reminding me of those prompt!#this was a challenging prompt to tackle but I'm satisfied with how it came out :^)#also props to anyone who knows what show I referenced in Mista's blurb.....#it's a Netflix original that I'm WEEPING over right now #toya whisks u away

376 notes · View notes

winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years

Text

You just have to keep trying (Sebastian Stan x reader)

You just have to keep trying

Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: eating disorder(various behaviors and ‘mantras’), negative self talk/worthlessness, panic attacks/anxiety

Word count: 4268

Summary: Sebastian and Reader are dating, and while Sebastian is away filming, some comments get to you. You start developing eating disorder behaviors, and a concerned friend reaches out to Sebastianw.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, it was really hard for me to write and I had to take a few days for myself before I could finish it. This one is really personal for me to write, and I don’t mean to be insensitive towards anyone. This is just written based on my personal experience and what I think would help me. If any of you are struggling with anything mentioned here and you need someone to talk to, relate to, or rant to, I’m all ears. This isn’t something to go through alone. Also I know this may seem like an unrealistic solution and it’s not always this easy, but this is fanfiction and I used some phrases that helped me. It’s often never as easy as reassurance, but it does help. Again, I’m sorry if this is triggering or insensitive to anyone out there, I just really enjoyed writing it and imagining someone caring as much as I wrote here. Stay safe.

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

It wasn’t easy dating an actor.

There was media attention, often unwanted, in every corner of your life. Interpretations of everything you did, said, and posted. Comments of your relationship, what you say, what you wear, what you also don’t say. Assumptions were made about your entire life and you just wanted to scream at them to shut up. They didn’t really know you, and they’d do anything for a headline.

But it was all worth it to you. You loved Sebastian very much, and wouldn’t trade what the two of you had for the world. He was everything you wanted. But the goddamn media were ruthless.

He told you to ignore it. And you tried and were successful for a while. But eventually hearing the same shit over and over again just ate away at you. Now it was easier to believe them than it was to believe yourself.

Somethings were less bothersome than others. You knew your love for Sebastian was real, and no headline ever made you doubt that. It was the critiques on you, and everything you did and said, that really got to you. Specifically when it was targeting your appearances.

You never had a problem with your confidence. It never really occurred to you that your appearances mattered or would matter, so you didn’t really focus on it. But it was different now. Suddenly everyone cares and is saying that you should look different, that you don’t deserve him, that you weren’t good enough. And on top of that there were the comments of everyone reading these articles and posts.

Currently you were scrolling through Instagram. Sebastian was God knows where shooting for a new movie. He had been gone for a few weeks and you weren’t sure when he was coming back. You were scrolling through a bunch of old photos of the two of you together. You loved all of these when they were taken and posted, but now was a completely different story.

More than half of the comments were negative, and 75% of those were directed towards you. You didn’t think it would bother you like it was, and you intended to only read a few before moving on. But it was a wormhole - as much as you wanted to stop reading you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

There were tears in your eyes but you didn’t really care. You wanted the honest truth of what people thought about you. Sebastian told you their opinions didn’t mean anything, but after a while you thought he was just being nice.

What does he even see in her?

What makes her so special?

God she’s disgusting

He could have anyone, why her?

Anyone else hate this chick as much as I do?

The last one had over 300 likes.

You finally put your phone down and got up, making your way into the bathroom. You studied yourself in the mirror, looking for every possible flaw that was there. And you found a lot of them. It hurt, but you needed to do this if things were going to get any better.

Your hips were too wide, waist not pulled taut enough, a bit of flab here, too thin there… everything seemed out of proportion to you. Your skin was a mess, your hair was flat and dull, it just seemed like everything was wrong. No wonder people were tearing you apart and saying you weren’t good enough. They were right.

This was the start of something very new for you. You decided to take things into your own hands, make yourself better. You had heard how celebrities went on crazy diets to lose weight for a role, and you wound up pulling inspiration from them. It started fairly small and almost harmless. You were counting calories and doing more cardio. It was fine.

But then it wasn’t.

It became much too addicting, much too fast. It started slowly. There was one day where you had an extremely busy schedule and you ended up forgetting to eat and before you knew it, it was 9 pm. You really did intend to eat something, but then it occurred to you that you could just...go to bed.

You started skipping meals, loving the way that hunger made you feel. You felt more focused, more alert, just overall stronger. You kept telling yourself that hunger makes you stronger, and that eating was for the weak. And you wanted to prove everyone wrong, and if denying some hunger was the way to do that then so be it.

Sometimes you would indulge in your body’s cries for help, eating anything you could. But as soon as you realized what you were doing, panic would overtake you. The first time you frantically tried to find an option, which eventually led you to the bathroom hunched over the toilet. After that you threw up anything you ended up eating, no matter how small.

You took weight loss inspiration quotes to a dangerous level. Anytime you would walk to the fridge you would tell yourself that ‘fat lasts longer than flavor,’ or ‘minutes on the lips forever on the hips’. After that it wasn’t that hard to walk away.

You were working out a lot more too, and found that addicting. You pushed yourself until you basically fell over from exhaustion. Then you would give yourself a break. But absolutely no rest days. You didn’t deserve them. Not yet, at least.

You stopped going out with your friends. They would invite you to a bar or dinner but you would always decline. It was easier that way. You were losing weight of course, and rapidly at that. You didn’t see it, you saw things that still needed work. But your hair was beginning to fall out, you were always tired, and just generally felt like shit. You were never overweight in the first place, so your ribs were beginning to just out, and you could see your hip bones for the first time in your life. But this only egged you on. It should have scared you, but you liked it. You thought it was progress.

You hadn’t seen anyone in weeks, and you had been doing this to yourself for months. You would still talk to Sebastian on the phone most days, and text on the days you didn’t. You didn’t dare tell him about any of this for fear he would try to stop you. You weren’t good enough yet. That was all that you really wanted. You would give everything you had just to feel like you were good enough.

Eventually, your friends started getting really concerned. Denying a girl’s night here and there was nothing to worry about, but weeks of near radio silence prompted them to come and check on you. One day they knocked on your door, and you padded over to it, still in your workout gear.

They nearly passed out when they saw you.

You were gaunt, dark circles under your eyes, pale, and just...smaller than you were. You weren’t hiding behind your usual baggy clothes that kept you warm, exposing how much weight you had lost. You thought everything was normal, but they were absolutely freaking out. This wasn’t you.

“Are you okay?” y/b/f/n asked after a few moments of stunned silence.

You shrugged. “Yeah. why wouldn’t I be?”

They swallowed. “Y/n, you look...sick.”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated. “Gee, thanks.” That did absolutely nothing for your self esteem. “Look, I’m fine and I have work to do. So thank you, but please just leave.” You shut the door on them.

They stood there stunned for a few minutes outside the door, worried as hell about you. Eventually they decided to leave, but they couldn’t stop thinking about you. They sat in their car, trying to think of what to do. But then they remembered something.

A few years ago when the two of you were getting serious, Sebastian had given them his phone number in case something happened to you while he was away. They had never had to use it before, but now seemed like an appropriate time. They scrolled through their contacts until they found him, and started typing.

‘Hey this is y/b/f/n. Something’s wrong with y/n.’

Within a couple of minutes, he called back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry filling his voice.

They sighed. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t heard or seen her in a few weeks and I went to check on her today and she’s just…” they shook their head. “She’s lost a lot of weight. She looks sick, Sebastian. I don’t know what’s going on but I barely recognized her when she opened that door.”

On the other side of the line, Sebastian was freaking out. He was in between takes on set, but he walked off to a more private place to have this conversation. “Did you try to talk to her?”

“She said she was fine and shut the door.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. Sighing, he said “Alright. I’ll tell the director something came up. I’ll be there tomorrow. Thank you, y/b/f/n.”

“Thank you.”

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

The day continued normally for you. You worked out some more, busied yourself with different things around the house, avoided eating like it was poison. Your usual routine. You hated what you were doing to yourself. You wanted to stop but you just didn’t think that was an option yet. You thought you had to get to a certain image, a certain weight, or just reach some kind of destination before you tried to change. But you weren’t there yet.

You tried to sleep, couldn’t sleep, tried again, and then eventually gave up and settled for the 1 hour you were able to get. You got ready for your day as normal: workout gear and to the gym. When you came home, you showered and went to lie down again. You were so exhausted but you didn’t feel like there was anything you could do.

You don’t know how long you were there, but the sound of a door closing brought you back into awareness. You sat up, confused as to who was here. Sebastian always told you when he was coming home.

“Y/n?”

You perked up, knowing it was Sebastian’s voice. You practically ran into the main room to hug him. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, immediately stiffening. “Oh my God,” he whispered. Underneath your sweater he could feel your bones jutting out and you were smaller than he remembered. He had only been gone for about 2 months, what the hell had happened?

He pulled back a lot sooner than you would have liked. But when you looked at his face, you were surprised to see him looking at you extremely concerned. “What’s wrong Seb?”

He looked you up and down and shook his head a little “What happened to you?”

You smiled a little, oblivious. “What do you mean?”

“You - you’ve lost so much weight. You look sick, yn, just - what the hell happened?”

You looked away for a second, stepping back and crossing your arms. You didn't know what to say. Sebastian stepped forward and grabbed both your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. Gently but firmly, he asked again “Y/n, tell me what happened.”

You shifted your gaze away from him. “I just wanted to be better.”

Sebastian felt his body go cold. “When was the last time you ate?” You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, not knowing what to tell him. You didn’t even know the answer yourself. He sighed. “This isn’t because of some stupid reporter, is it?”

Your lack of words and the tensing of your body was enough of an answer for him. “You know that they are trained to rip people apart? They don’t know what it’s making you feel. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because I don’t fucking deserve you! You could literally have anyone you wanted, I just don’t understand why you chose me! I don’t understand why you’d want me, just….” you shook your head. “I’m not good enough.”

He stayed silent for a few moments, not knowing what you meant. He had no idea you felt this down on yourself. “What do you mean?”

You looked away from him again. “Sometimes I just don’t understand. You’re absolutely perfect in every single way and then I'm just here. I don’t get why or how you could love me.”

He closed the space between the two of you and hugged you again, firmly but not as tightly as usual. He was afraid he would hurt you. He felt tears pricking his eyes as well. His girl, his y/n, was wasting away because she didn’t feel good enough for him, when usually he thought it was the opposite. It broke his heart knowing that you had done this to yourself for him or some ignorant reporter. You were crying because you thought this would be the end of it. You didn’t think it was possible for him to love you after something like this.

“Babe, listen to me. I need you to hear me out here. I love you so much. I love you for who you are, who you were, and everything you could be. And nothing would ever change that. You are absolutely perfect to me no matter what. And because of that it breaks my heart to know what you’ve been doing to yourself. You don’t have to change, especially not for me. Hurting yourself like this cannot be an option, okay?”

Tears had begun to fall from his eyes and you were shaking in his embrace. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. You felt him shake his head before he said “You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to trust me. Can you do that?”

Your heart was melting. “Why are you so nice to me?” you asked quietly.

He let out a shaky breath, trying his best to hold it together for you. “Because I love you more than anything. And I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you.”

You buried your face further into his chest, letting out another sob. He tightened his grip on you and kissed the top off your head, scared you would disappear at any second. He swallowed back his own tears, knowing he needed to be the strong one here.

“Please, y/n, let me help you.”

You nodded into his chest, feeling a sickening sense of relief and terror. To be honest you were mostly petrified as to what was to come. You had spent months telling yourself you deserve to starve, and you still believed most of it. You knew deep down it was a problem and you wanted to let Sebastian help you, but you were so scared of disappointing him or yourself.

By this point, it was early afternoon. The two of you spent a few hours on the couch, you curled up to him and his arms protectively around you. He kept telling you how much he loved you and how you were beautiful, and you would do your best to believe him and ignore the voice in your head telling you it was all a lie. In all honesty you got more distracted as time went on. You knew he would want to make you dinner and you couldn’t ignore the anxiety growing more as the time went on.

You weren’t going to bring it up, and you were just waiting for him to. He was nervous to bring it up too. He didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or trigger you, but there was no way that he could let you skip another meal. You had already gone far too long without eating anything. He shifted in his seat and tensed a little, and you sighed, knowing what was coming.

“So...uh..”

“I don’t know,” you finished for him. You looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m not sure what I’d want or even could eat. It’s so stupid trying to explain it to someone else…” you shook your head and closed your eyes. “It makes sense in my head but it doesn’t when I say it out loud.”

He sighed a little, brushing your hair with one of his hands. “It can be something small,” he said gently. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

You felt tears in your eyes again as you brought your hand to your stomach, running it down your ribcage, feeling the divots. It was a nervous habit you had developed whenever you thought about eating, and you cursed yourself for doing it now. “It’s embarrassing Seb.” you said quietly.

Sebastian didn’t stop his movements, looking down at you. “What can I do to make it better?” he asked, feeling so helpless in this situation. He wanted to take all of your pain away but there isn’t a quick way to heal the mind. He had learned that himself a long time ago. You shrugged, not knowing the answer yourself.

You took a deep breath. “Nothing’s going to be easy Seb. I think it’d just be easier if you chose something and then just sit with me or something. I don’t know… God I feel like an idiot right now -”

“Hey,” Sebastian stopped you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Whatever you need babe.” He gave you a smile before he stood up, and you curled into the corner of the couch, bringing your knees to your chest. Your heart was pounding and your mind was racing. You had no idea how you were going to be able to do this, you could barely eat on your own out of shame, how were you expecting to eat in front of the man you loved?

Meanwhile, Sebastian was trying to think of something that would be easiest for you to eat while still providing sustenance. He didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to enable you.

Eventually he came back out with two plates of food, one holding less than the other. (Insert whatever you want here for the meal). He gave the smaller portion to you with a small smile and you were trying your best to hide the trembling of your hand as you took it from him. You ended up counting the calories with the blink of an eye before you could stop yourself, and cursed your mind because you didn’t think that there was a way that you could eat that much. Even if you knew logically you burned more calories in your workout that morning.

You begna bouncing your leg up and down, tears building once again. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you couldn't stop the anxiety building inside you. “I’m sorry,” you said shaking your head and covering your mouth. Your breathing was becoming uneven, and your heart rate was increasing as well. Which only made you more anxious.

Sebastian moved both plates out of the way before wrapping his arms around you again. You were so embarrassed, having an anxiety attack around something as stupid as food. You felt so weak and stupid. Your leg was moving uncontrollably at this point, and you barely had any control over your breathing anymore. Your hands balled into fists and you buried your head into his chest out of shame.

You kept trying to spit out apologies but you couldn’t catch your breath long enough to do so. He just tightened his arms around you, hushing you whenever you tried to speak. “Y/n I need you to try to breathe with me, can you try that? Just try to match mine.” He started taking deep breaths, chest rising and falling slowly and you tried your best to match his. It took a few minutes but eventually your breathing evened out. Once the panic had washed away you started crying harder, more out of shame and embarrassment than anything else.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s so stupid -”

“It’s not stupid y/n.” he said gently but firmly. “It’s okay to be anxious.”

You shook your head against his chest. “Not when it’s about something as silly as food.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. Thoughts don’t make sense all the time, but that doesn’t make them fact. You’re just having a rough time right now, but beating yourself up over it is only going to make it harder.”

God, you love this man.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, him rubbing a hand through your hair gently like before. He knew you had always liked that. You closed your eyes, wanting this moment to go on forever, but knowing you would have to eat something at some point.

“Do you think you could try to eat something? Please?”

You took a deep breath before nodding again, pulling away from him. You grabbed your plate and played around with it for a minute or so before you began eating. You wanted to make Sebastian happy, but you were terrified as well. You didn’t exactly know why, logically speaking. You had thoughts running through your mind of weight gain, but you also knew logically that one meal wouldn’t cause it, and that you were too skinny anyways.

You knew that logically. But your mind wasn’t exactly a logical place to be right now.

You weren’t able to eat everything, but you ate more than you thought you would be able. To. you apologized for the nth time that night, and Sebastian stopped you before you could finish. “Don’t be. I’m proud of you.” he said with a smile as he brought the plates to the kitchen. He was nervous to say the least. You hadn’t eaten much, but again, it was a start. Everyone needs to start somewhere.

He hadn’t told you that he had come home in the middle of shooting to check on you. He didn’t tell you that he had initially said he’d be gone for a week before pushing it back even further, realizing you needed him at the moment. You were more important to him, and he honestly didn’t care if he got fired. He’d find another job at some point.

He stayed with you for the next few weeks, helping you in every aspect. He made sure you deleted all social media apps on your phone, so you weren’t inclined to look at toxic comments. He helped you tone down your time in the gym and take rest days. He made sure you ate something at each meal. It started out small, and gradually he helped you to eat more. He sat with you through all the panic attacks and tears, and the times you would lash out at him. He never took it personally.

There were slip ups. Times where you snuck out at night to go for a run, or when you would find yourself throwing up after the anxiety got to be too much. He wouldn’t get angry with you, just offer you a sad smile and hug you. You would apologize and he would assure you it wasn’t your fault. “It’s not going to be perfect, you just have to keep trying.”

He would never stop telling you that you were beautiful and how much he loved you. You couldn’t help but feel like a burden to him at first, but as time went on you began to believe him more and more.

Months later and it was still a daily struggle. You had bad days, slip ups, and days where you just wanted to quit. But Sebastian never left your side through all of it, and eventually you were able to pull yourself out of your own darkness. You were able to catch yourself in your negative thoughts before you descended too far down the wormhole. You were starting to feel happy again, more like who you had been.

The two of you were watching a movie, laughing over some funny line that had been said. There was popcorn in between the two of you and you just felt happy. After a few moments, you looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

He smiled back down at you. “For what?”

“Helping me believe in myself again.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian x reader #comfort #eatingdisordercomfort #tw eating disorder #tw panic attack #tw anxiety #tw anorexia #tw self hate #sebastian stan comfort #fluff #imagine

312 notes · View notes

playlistmusings · 3 years

Text

Everyone knows you're the way to my heart (Chapter 4)

(1) Prologue (2) Yelled down the hall, but nobody answered (3) Always surprised by what I'd do for love, Some things I'll never expect (4) But I feel something when I see you now (5) And I've never seen you smiling so big

Chapter 4- But I feel something when I see you now

Jude didn't know whether she loved or hated the pendant. On one hand it was proving to be immensely helpful so far, over the past week the longest it had taken her to find Cardan was thirty minutes, but that had more to do with the way he was sprawled in the grass of the gardens nearly a mile away from the throne room where she started looking than anything else. On the other hand, it was absolutely burning her. She couldn't figure out why a simple tracking charm would ever need to have such powerful, insistent heat, after all it was pretty easy to figure out that he was right there. At first, she told herself the pain was manageable enough, that the burning on her sternum could be ignored, but very quickly her resolve broke down, causing her to sometimes wish that she didn't need to be with Cardan, that she could avoid the heat blooming across her chest for just a moment, even if it meant giving up her very unstable control over the kingdom.

But no matter what she wished about getting rid of the heat and telling herself that she could just search for Cardan like she always has, whenever she got close to lifting the small chain from around her neck something in her stopped her, and she couldn't do it. This was ruining her. Cardan was ruining her. At first with his annoying games, then his refusal to listen or help her, and now with something entirely more than that, something that he technically had nothing to do with. If Jude was honest with herself, which only happened occasionally, while she was alone at night, she could admit that the pain was manageable, but the way it caused her to focus on Cardan even more than she already did was what made things truly unbearable. Because when she really focused on him, it was really hard to remind herself that she hated him.

-----

The worst day, the catalyst some might say, started out normal. Jude woke up and organized her things for the day, making a mental list of all the things she had to do, making a written list of all the things Cardan needed to do, and then set out to finish a few small tasks before a meeting with advisors.

It was only when the time of the meeting neared and she needed to find Cardan that things started going downhill. At first, she followed the rising heat of the pendant to find him lounging on his throne. For anyone else it would have been a wonderful sight, Cardan sitting on his throne, crown precariously balancing atop his hair, a golden glass of wine in one hand, a parchment in the other, the look of resolute focus spread across his face-- he looked positively kingly (and devastatingly handsome). But not to Jude, definitely not, she reminded herself, Cardan is an asshole, a pain in my ass, a--

And then he looked up, locking eyes with Jude, a foreign look gleaming in his dark irises, as if he had some secret that only he knew, like he could make Jude give into anything with a single glance-- it took Jude a moment longer than she'd like to admit to tell herself that she decidedly would not give into Cardan's wishes just because he looked at her like that.

And as soon as their moment-- if that's what you would even call it, Jude's mind commented-- began, it was over, and Cardan was walking towards Jude, causing the pendant against her chest to heat so much that she thought it must be glowing. When he reached her, he was perfectly polite-- almost too polite-- asking her if she was walking to their meeting, if she would care to walk with him and saying he had read the new reports and wanted her opinion on them before his other counselors tried to change the truth. It was absurd, it was enough to make Jude almost forget that he hated her, that she hated him.

But as terrible as that walk was-- Cardan's lilting voice carrying two sides of a conversation about some thing or another, his steps falling in line with Jude's no matter how she tried to change the pace and the necklace burning her chest-- Jude should have known it'd get worse during the meeting.

Initially, it was nothing new, just Cardan lazing in a seat while she tried to focus on the words of various counselors, but then he got so close. Cardan's chair was pushed right next to hers, in a way that made her wonder how no one else was noticing it, in a way that made the necklace seem to pulse with stifling heat that drew her attention away from everything that wasn't him.

It was awful. It was painful. It was so much and somehow, some dark and spiteful thing that controlled Jude's mind commented, it wasn't enough. Because he was right there and yet he couldn't even do her the favor of just doing something, anything. Not a brush of his fingertips or a knock of his foot against hers-- nothing. It was a special type of hell that Jude never knew she had to worry about.

And then, right when some advisor was droning on about something that she should've definitely been paying attention to, his fingers grazed her thigh. It was barely there, something so soft that she could barely feel it with her clothes in the way, almost as if he was trying to hold himself back. It was barely there and yet Jude's world felt like it had frozen, like it had stopped spinning on its axis, as if this was it. It all felt so dumb to her, was she really that caught up in all of this, in Cardan, that just a touch could make her feel like her whole world had so drastically changed. But then it hit her, right as his last finger left her leg-- she was vague aware that he was now gesturing airily and talking about something, probably whatever this meeting was about, she couldn't even remember anymore, but that wasn't important anymore, what was important was the way the heat returned to her sternum the second his fingers stopped touching her. A heat she hadn’t noticed had ever gone away until it came back. Because somehow, in that brief moment, Cardan's touch somehow took more of her attention than anything else, so much that she couldn't notice that something that had been bothering her for days had gone away.

And, now, in the middle of a Goddamn meeting, Jude was focusing on how much she wanted him to touch her again, trying to convince herself it was for the sake of getting rid of the heat instead of just because, just because she wanted to feel like she mattered to him, just because in that moment she felt like she could stop shoving all her feelings down. It was truly hell. Some sort of special hell, made just for Jude, taunting her with the one thing she would never admit had complete control over her. Because right then she let herself realize that it didn't matter if she had a geas to protect her and she could order Cardan around, he would always be in control, he would always have this hold over her.

Jude tried to clear her thoughts of Cardan and focus back on the meeting, but only got as far as realizing that everyone had left the room before her mind went blank again.

Well, not exactly blank, she had one thought-- a thought that felt oddly reminiscent of that paper she had found all those months ago, with her name written over and over again-- it was just Cardan, Cardan, Cardan over and over in her mind.

His hand was on her leg again. Firmer, more confident than the last time. Less of a self-indulgent brush of fingertips and more of a grasp, of a purposeful action meant to get her attention. Jude felt like she was going to internally combust. This would be her downfall, Cardan's hand on her thigh, thoughts of love and attraction and everything in between filling her head. And then she looked up into his eyes and knew she was doomed in the best way possible.

@jurdanhell @yourlocalautisticoverlord

#fanfic #tfota fanfic #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #the folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jude duarte x cardan greenbriar

44 notes · View notes

litafficionado · 3 years

Text

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites. --------- Q. You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A. I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish. I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career. Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick. I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next. He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say. I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write. I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.

Q. You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A. I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it. Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six. But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway). There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay. I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den. It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a dollar-store stockroom.

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A. I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.” That has always sounded like the best advice. And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints. Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore. I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning. Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way. I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means. And every now and then I’ll read a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving. It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most. A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q. I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A. I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair. At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to. I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure. The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August. It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language. A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection). I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.

#Garielle Lutz #lit #Worsted #Moyra Davey #Ben Marcus #Gordon Lish #Anna DeForest #A History of Present Illness #Greg Gerke #In the Suavity of the Rock #David Nutt #Summertime in the Emergency Room

11 notes · View notes

aegialia · 3 years

Text

self-indulgent reflection on being on tumblr

so i recently hit 1000 followers on here and this blog has existed for almost exactly 8 years, so i wanted to ramble about tumblr and my experience of it for awhile. under the cut so definitely feel free to ignore this.

i started this blog right around when i was fourteen and had just started high school. at that point, i was out to my parents (and no one else) as bi, i had an inkling i was Struggling with something but i had no idea what and felt like i couldnt actually acknowledge it, and i had left leaning but very vague politics. tumblr definitely has shaped my journey around sexuality/gender/mental health/politics, both for good and for ill.

for good:

seeing other ppl talk about being lesbians helped me realize i could be a lesbian w/o being a traitor to the concept of bisexuality. hearing trans ppl talk about their experiences and explaining non-binary stuff and dysphoria helped me understand what i was going through

i don’t like talking about my mental health stuff in detail on here, but suffice to say, i was Going Through it in high school. i’m still going through it now, but i am in a much better place (thank you medication and 7 years of therapy!). seeing ppl talk about the weird, dumb, awful parts of mental illness let me acknowledge that i was going through those things too, that i wasnt like evil for feeling like that, that i could change. people talking about adhd/autism was particularly helpful---being able to identify why i’d always felt like my brain just didn’t work right is the first step in the (ongoing) process of not hating myself for the way my brain works

politics is definitely the area where i think tumblr was the best for me. i got exposed to so many opinions i definitely wasn’t hearing in school, from intelligent, well-read people who could articulate theory in ways i could understand. tumblr didn’t give me my politics and i didn’t learn everything i know about theory from it, but the communities of people i was around pointed me in the right directions. tumblr was also a good place to learn how to react to criticism. this doesn’t seem to be most people’s experience, but getting called out over minor things on tumblr genuinely helped me learn how to take a step back, look at my behavior, apologize, and try to change, which, as it turns out, is a helpful skill irl as well

for ill:

wrt sexuality and gender, it’s probably pretty obvious someone who’s journey is ‘cis bi girl -> cis with a million different microlabels -> nb w a million different microlabels for both sexuality and gender -> nb butch lesbian who’s not super into romance’ would have some bad times on tumblr. the bi circles i was in made being a lesbian seem like an immoral choice, the ‘’’mogai’’’ (or whatever u wanna call them) circles made me feel like i had to divy up and perfectly label every aspect of myself in a way that really wasn’t helpful for me, the lesbian circles i was in made me feel like being a lesbian was about ending up in a monogamous butch/femme cottagecore relationship and that there was something wrong with me for not really wanting that. to be clear i think microlabels can be very helpful for people/a monogamous butch/femme relationship is a perfectly fine thing to want, they just didn’t work for me. im very very glad ive reached a point in my life where i dont feel the need to stay up to date on the latest discourse and am more focused on finding a way to exist that is comfortable for me and supporting my community irl. 10/10 would recommend to everyone

not going to get deep into it, but social media is. not good for my brain in general. i still enjoy using tumblr, but these days im pretty careful to step back from it frequently and treat it as an occasional hobby.

the cons of political stuff on tumblr are probably also very obvious. there are some just awful discussions on here and the culture surrounding the way we handle bad behavior and justice and accountability and working to become a better person and make up for the harm you’ve caused has historically been fucking awful and trying to unlearn it and find new ways to engage with this stuff is exhausting.

for all that i’ve changed over the course of having this blog, this blog has stayed pretty fucking static. i started out being super into diana wynne jones and the iliad and those are still two of my biggest interests and things i talk about the most on here. there are definitely specific things that have petered away (i started this blog almost entirely to keep up with good omens fan stuff and i pretty much haven’t touched it since the miniseries came out, i haven’t sought out pacific rim/supernatural/elementary/mcu content in years), but im still pretty much interested in the same things. i like relatively small fandoms, i like weird side characters, i like to be a grumpy child playing with my toys in the corner. when a fandom im in gets popular, i tend to stop engaging with it entirely (hello rqg/tma/good omens/enola holmes!). i dont think its a pretentious ‘i liked it before it was cool’ thing so much as a ‘people get Weird and awful when a fandom hits a certain level of popularity and there’s too much content and i really, really hate the bad faith arguments larger fandoms tend to spawn’ thing. i’ll consume content from big fandoms, but i pretty much refuse to actually engage with them at this point.

one of the stranger parts of my experience of tumblr is the social side. i’ve never really known how people make friends online---how do you go from liking each other’s posts and occasionally replying to them to actually being friends who communicate off social media? i’ve had conversations with ppl on tumblr and i’ve had sort-of friendships that are contained to tumblr where i’d like to get to know them better, but i’ve never figured out how to do that. my best friend’s job is pretty much to make friends/connections on the internet (she’s an activist and artist), my dad knows people everywhere in the world from twitter, and i’m just sitting here like a little old grandpa who doesn’t understand how you can have internet friends.

at this point in my life, i’m fine with this, but this has made me feel real fucking bad in the past---like, if everyone online, even the ppl who say they’re weird and brainbad in a similar way to me, can make friends on the internet, what’s wrong with me? particularly in high school and my first year of college, when i was just horribly lonely all the time, it made me feel super disconnected and like there was something fundamentally bad about me. these days, i’m a lot chiller about it. i use social media to engage with stuff i enjoy and share my thoughts about it. it’s okay that my social difficulties extend to me not knowing how to use the internet to socialize.

on a somewhat related topic, it’s wild that i have 1000 followers. obviously, that’s not an actually super large number and a huge number of them are probably bots or inactive. if you post consistently for eight years and follow lots of people, like i do, it’s not a surprise to end up with this many followers. it is also, thankfully, the sort of followers that are not fans. probably most ppl following this blog dont remember why they followed and dont know anything about me or my interests. this sounds like its meant to be depressing but it’s not. i like that my way of engaging w the internet lets me do pretty much whatever i want and no one will care. the mere concept of being. like. tumblr famous in any capacity, even just in one community/fandom, is viscerally horrifying to me.

i really enjoy the space i’ve created for myself on here. on one hand, going back through my blog is obviously embarrassing and full of hating my past self. on the other hand, i now have a very nice collection of things i enjoy in this blog. i like seeing what i’ve been interested in and (when i’m in a good mental health place) i like to be able to remember how i thought and talked about the things i loved when i was younger. im not at the place in my life where i can love a younger version of myself, but sometimes i can laugh at zir with a level of fondness.

i’ve always been paranoid about sharing details about my life on here (and the fact that my parents have always been able to see it certainly contributed), so the version of jack on here is a carefully curated version, who’s super enthusiastic about the things they love, was very conscientious about apologizing and trying to do better when ze messed up, and tried to be polite to others. that’s a younger version of myself that i’m closer to being able to have compassion for than the version i find in essays and poems and memories.

i’m starting grad school in ten days and i’m still using the blog i started when i began high school. tumblr has helped me in a lot of ways and hurt me in a lot of ways, but i still have to admit that it’s been a significant factor in shaping me. i’d be incredibly embarrassed to admit that irl, but it’s true. other than my family and like one friend, this blog is one of the only things that’s ‘known’ me since i started high school. i’ve changed so much in that time and im glad to have this weird little record of myself throughout those changes, even if i’d probably warn my younger self away from tumblr if i could go back in time.

tl;dr i have had a mixed experience on tumblr and i have mixed feelings about that experience. no idea if anyone read any of this very long, very rambling internet memoir

p.s. fun facts about this blog:

i’ve never changed my icon or blog title

i recently got a second version of the poster i got my blog title from. i chose my blog title by looking at what was hanging on the wall directly in front of me.

my original url was gloomthkin. this was not, as you’d probably assume, an otherkin thing. i had literally no idea what otherkin was at that point. i’d just learned the word gloomth from a bill bryson book and thought it would be cool n edgy to be the child of the quality of gloom. i changed my url after i learned what otherkin was and realized everyone probably assumed something about me that wasn’t true which i hated (not bc i had an issue w otherkin, just bc i don’t like ppl thinking untrue things about me)

during my good omens days, i once sent a tumblr ask to nail guyman which, in retrospect, was kinda rude. i stand by the content but id never send an ask like that now. he replied to it privately in a way that so deeply embarrassed and shamed 15 year old me that i’ve never gotten over it. i still get nervous and embarrassed when i see anything about him or his books

#gloomth and circumstance #this is definitely not required reading!#i just felt like rambling for a very long time about my feelings and my blog #w bonus blog trivia at the bottom that amuses me and probably no one else

7 notes · View notes

lassieposting · 3 years

Note

Hi i havent read the books post-resurrection so im kinda lost on why you dont like phase 2 val? She was easily one of my favourite characters ever, she was flawed (and the books took time to acknowledge them) and relatable and still really admirable (intelligent, brave, loyal) and i really liked her and really appreciated that she wasn’t perfect unlike every other young adult heroines. What went wrong😢😢😢😢

Okay I'm gonna put this under a cut because I very strongly dislike phase 2 val and I know it bugs people who don't feel the same, so. Dead dove dont eat

Okay so first off, phase 1 val and phase 2 val are completely different people. literally. phase 1 val was based on an ex-friend of lardo's who used to apparently be involved pretty heavily in like, editing the books and "she'd react like this" or "val wouldn't say that", and that val she was one of my favourite fictional characters from when book one came out to the release of resurrection. phase 2 val is based on his whiny little girlfriend who likes to start shit with 14yos on twitter, and you can absolutely tell she is no longer the same person. so the long story short of "what went wrong" is "the original irl val's friendship with dirty laundry ended for whatever reason and he decided to retcon her entire personality to suit his gf"

Phase 2 Val, in my opinion:

Weak, like won't even fight back when she gets jumped bc boo fucking hoo she's so awful, bitch get up already, nobody signed up for ur pity party

Whiny. So fucking whiny. All the time. And she's the POV character so it's inescapable.

"Pacifist" but in a really pathetic virtue-signalling kind of way like "Oh, I've done such terrible thiiiiiiiiiiings I'm so awfulllllllllllll look how good I'm trying to be nowwwwwwww pay attention to meeeeeeee" kind of way, it was both boring and a massive eye roll. It's a book about magic and asskicking. Kick some ass. We're here for escapism not "realistic" whining. Yes, irl she'd be a mess. As an author it's his job to strike a balance between the "realism" he wants to portray and making his readers so depressed and done with his heroine that they quit reading, and in my case, he absolutely failed.

Everything must be about her at all times. Skug is having personal problems? Fuck him, they're about her now. Everything is about how it affects her, and her feelings, and be damned to the person actually having the problem. Fucks phase 2 val cain gives about anyone except herself: 0

Bitter and jaded. Which yeah I get why but it's like jesus christ what do we get out of reading about this? It's not even good bitter and jaded where it makes you empathise or admire her strength in adversity or whatever, she's just become a really nasty person with no redeeming features that I could see. Which? Landy outright said she's based on his gf? If your boyfriend is gonna drag ur entire personality through the dirt like that and write "you" as just a collection of incredibly negative traits...yikes.

Really ungrateful about the awesome life she leads? Which bugs me bc I fucking hate mundanity and knowing that all there is to life is fucking working and bad mental health. I would kill to live her life. All she does is moan about it. Like? Quit then. Fuck off back to being a mortal if it's that bad and live the shitty life you wanted to get away from in the first place. That way we'd get no more books, and quite honestly, thank fuck for that. But anyway, she needs to pick one, stick with it, and stop complaining about whatever she chose.

The girl wallows in self pity. And if someone else isn't indulging her enough, she'll wallow harder and louder and more obviously. Yawn.

Her POV is now so depressing to read that Resurrection literally tanked my mental health. I'm not kidding. I fell off the self-harm wagon, the suicidal thoughts came back, reading her dissociating would make me dissociate, I just did not cope whatsoever. Being in her head was just like being in my head during my worst points, and I hate myself, so naturally, I hate her too. Like I get why some people like phase two val. I get that her depression is "realistic" and that trauma does just make some people completely dislikeable and self-pitying, and if people want to read about that, then...sure. you do you, my dudes. But I live that reality, I am that person whose trauma made her a dysfunctional, isolated bitch, and I hate, passionately, having it infest the media I consume to escape.

Essentially if I wanted to engage with a bitter, spiteful, depressed piece of shit in her 20s who pushes everyone away and sucks at everything, I'd live my gd life. Yall see me tryna engage with my real life? Hell nah I'm on tumblr dot com burying my head up the ass of whatever fandom will force my brain to produce some s e r o t o n i n and that is what I need this series for

Also? The dynamic she had with skug in phase one? "Until the end"? "You save me, I save you, that's how we work"? Forget that, it doesn't exist anymore. I stopped reading after Midnight, because she was written like he was a coworker she could barely tolerate. They went from "Lardo confirms on twitter that they talked on the phone a bunch while she was in america and he'd always ask her to come home" to "she comes home and proceeds to blank him for five months while she sits in her fuckin multimillionaire's mansion feeling sorry for herself". Their friendship completely disintegrated, they were totally separated for most of the book, she's written as not giving a single shit about him. She treated him like dirt, and their dynamic basically felt like it was becoming "Local Man With History Of Gravitating Towards Abusive Women Makes Same Terrible Choices For Fifth Time" and? that was the point of no return to me. he supports her unconditionally, no matter what he's going through at the time, he's walked on broken bones to try and get to her when she was in danger, she can tell him anything and he'd never use it against her. I did not, for one second in phase two, believe she felt the same about him. tbh it felt like she could - and wanted to - drop him at the first opportunity and not even feel bad about it, and that's not the dynamic that made me so emotionally attached to phase one. i signed up for "until the end", not whatever bullshit phase two has going on.

Apparently she's "less depressed" now and their relationship is "better" in the books published since midnight, which! might well be true. but I haven't read them and don't intend to, and she's gone from one of my favourite fictional characters ever (which! was impressive! because i almost never bond with the female lead - i normally get attached exclusively to the character i crush on, which would be skug here. val was the first female lead i actually cared about since xena! so im deeply salty about losing her!) to a character i? honestly prefer to pretend doesn't exist. i live in war era dead men/generals crackship land because that way, i don't have to acknowledge her or the fuckin character assassination phase 2 pulled on her.

so yeah, no hate towards phase one val at all. phase one val was awesome and flawed and gave me something to aspire to despite my shitty mental health and trauma, and if she'd kept her original personality she might still have been those things. but the original "real life" val is no longer involved (and doesn't talk to landy at all anymore, apparently), and the val based on landy's insufferable gf? i cannot get behind her at all ever, four for skug and none for phase two val cain bye

(tldr; you're not missing anything by quitting after spx)

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #anti-val #extremely anti-val #but like only anti-phase two val #bc phase one val was great and i loved her #come back friend!laura val needs you #lardass can't write her without ur input

18 notes · View notes