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#ok? my feelings are my problem when there are people out there being tangibly hurt and harassed for coming forward about a serious thing.
peninkwrites · 1 year
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#i never make vent posts or anything like this but I am just. so torn up about all of this#please don't take this too seriously this is my personal ramblings not a statement on some important part of the situation#ok? my feelings are my problem when there are people out there being tangibly hurt and harassed for coming forward about a serious thing.#i don't think finishing my fics would be supporting him as a cc. that isn't really my concern?#but right now i am disgusted by his very name. i can't write right now.#i don't know what to do.#i wish i had started the Mafia AU sooner. That fic is over 6 months in the making and I had/have so much story I wanted to tell.#it would be easier to cut him out of that series#but the community is so torn up who's gonna read it? I know I should write for my own sake too#but the people I met#the damn server I set up#it's because of this.#this fandom existed so independently of the ccs for so long in reference to their characters#i don't know why we have to lose that#but at the same time I understand people's discomfort. I both can't blame people for leaving and wish they wouldn't.#I don't know where I'm at comfort-wise too and maybe we're all just waiting to feel less horrified#but i already miss people just writing meta and random days with the whole dash rambling about a specific character#i know it hasn't been long.#but I guess I'm more worried it's gone forever.#i didn't feel like what we did had anything to do with him until his presence ruined it.#the cc had been on thin ice for me for a while i just. ignored his presence and focused only on rp characters.#like. why should I abandon talking about c!Wilbur and c!Quackity etc etc because one motherfucker turned out to be terrible?#this stuff is not a priority right now of course considering the reason this is happening is a matter of justice and accountability#which is why im sort of just rambling here instead of making a proper post#i've wrapped so much of my life around this fandom for the past two years. probably an unhealthy amount. but i don't know how to let go#i didn't realize that the running backtrack of my brain has been my fics. these characters. CONSTANTLY#i literally don't know what to think about. I've been writing almost nonstop about this stuff for 2 YEARS.#I've lost my joy of creation. my emotional crutch. hopefully temporarily but my god.#dream situation#vent
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sparkbird-jewelry · 11 months
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Creativity is pulling all the scatterfuck out of your brain and putting it into something tangible that you can hold that is actually real. I have long looked inward to pain and twisted that around into something cool and expressive to show. A sort of over compensating way of dealing with the pain of my own human existence. Lately I’ve struggled to pull it out, so it sits in there, hurting.
Lately has been so hard that I wasn’t even sure I would make it to yesterday. The grossness of cutting ties with my mother, my sister falling extremely ill before moving away, feeling I finally had her back in my life and now she’s so far away again.. same old crappy health problems, more random organ removal surgery, struggling with the idea I might be a shit mom. A shit girlfriend. Loving everyone so much, but being so extremely isolated by my fear and anxiety that I just can’t see past the darkness to any light ahead. I’ve felt so alone and so far from my craft, so far from who I wanted to be. I’ve had so long to put it all into motion, and yet here I sit. In my empire of dirt. Trying to desperately claw my way out without losing anyone else.
I try to reach out, but I don’t. I only think about trying. Who to reach out to? Nobody there. Mental health care is a joke. My family can pat me on the back in their minds, but they won’t come over to hug me and tell me it’ll be ok. People don’t want to confront my pain. It’s gross and yuck. I try to grow things and plant seeds but mostly they struggle like I do. Too much water and they’re drowning. Too much sun and they dry out and fry. Gnats and bugs gnaw at the tiny, weak leaves. I’m overthinking my overthinking. Be the good. Fuck. Why isn’t anyone else being the good? Why does it all feel on me? Like I’m the problems that exist for everyone else. But I’m literally just existing. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I mostly hurt myself when I isolate or when I open my mouth. Am I isolating or just isolated? I guess I’ll never know. It hurts to feel unloved. So you try to love and please those left hanging around more and more, until there’s just not much left for yourself.
I feel close to the end of nothing. Another shit chapter and no closer to meeting myself where I wanted to be. I took this whole entire year to fix my life. It’s halfway over and I’m deeper in the mess than I was when I started. Change is gross and hard. And I fear it like the first horror movie I watched as a kid. Still haunting my subconscious every night. I can’t unsee it. Like I can’t unsee my past and all the screaming and dehumanizing they did to me. How do you let go of a shitty childhood when your parents still treat you like they did when you were thirteen? You would think 65 years would be enough time to learn respect.
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jangofctts · 3 years
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As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)
Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+
Word Count: 6.4k
Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch
a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL
This had been a terrible idea. 
Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair. 
You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week. 
Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield. 
You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him. 
It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield. 
James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you… 
And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.
Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.      
Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”
The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”   
“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”
Bucky bristles. Whatever. 
It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality. 
He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you. 
He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?
                          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up. 
A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.  
But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting. 
“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”
Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”
“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“
“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”
You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”
You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.
“I got it, kid. Relax.”
Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.” 
Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help. 
Or maybe it’s penance. 
Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting. 
Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.
Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”
“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.” 
His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…
You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.         
Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar. 
A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do. 
The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in. 
Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin. 
“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle. 
You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”
“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow. 
Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”
His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it. 
There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter. 
“Bucky?”
His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.              
“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”
“Sure thing, doll.” 
                            -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing. 
With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”
You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”
His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.  
Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder. 
The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”
“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.” 
“I’m sorry.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”
Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”
Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”
It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more. 
You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing— 
You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide. 
You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer. 
Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.   
When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.
You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”
His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”
You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”
Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.
Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”
It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”
Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat. 
What a way to go.    
With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more. 
You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.
“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”
While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.
“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”
Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”
Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you. 
Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.
“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs. 
“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”
Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject. 
“Shut up.”
His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”
You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.   
It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.
Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”
No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger. 
Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.  
Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 
Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”   
There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.  
He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation. 
“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.
It's perfect. So fucking delicious. 
You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—
Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 
Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.
It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 
“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh. 
If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good. 
Cheeky bastard.  
“Get up here—“
You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.    
Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him. 
Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears. 
A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.” 
Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease. 
With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”
Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”
Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 
You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him. 
“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking. 
You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin. 
Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.  
You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam. 
Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor. 
You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear. 
You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”
Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch. 
Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.
He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”
Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”
You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”
Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?” 
You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” 
Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”
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chainofclovers · 3 years
Text
Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts
GOOD GOD.
“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.
So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?
I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.
I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.
Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.
Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.
Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.
Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.
Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.
I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.
I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.
Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.
While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.
Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.
September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.
I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!
I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.
Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.
Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.
FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.
I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.
I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.
To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.
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enamouredfae · 3 years
Text
♡ Pick a Card ♡
What you need to know in order to be ready for the love you so longingly seek!
This reading is looking at anything you might need to heal or grow into in order to enter future relationships as your higher self. I am not looking at your future, but simply trying to guide you towards your highest good in the field of love. Many of us have internalized certain perceptions of love that we must unlearn, or have lived through difficult moments which have closed us off or made experiencing love more difficult. If you are in a toxic relationship/situation, please do not take any messages that might seem to tell you to stay in it. With this reading, I will hopefully open you up to some introspection and hopefully growth. You may very well be attracted to multiple piles and that is ok! Read all that attract you and take what resonates. Each pile has three pieces of advice, so mixing and matching is invited!
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This reading is for entertainment purposes only.
This is a timeless reading for the collective, therefore it is likely that some messages will not resonate with you. Please only take the messages that do! The messages that do not, are meant for somebody else. Remember that the future is never set in stone and that you possess free will! Love you! ♡
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Pile 1
Charm: Knot
1. Yang
Yang tells me that you need to learn to become more proactive in love. You cannot wait around. You must act! You need to manifest your desires into the material world by doing. It's perfectly fine to do the first move, no matter what society deems "acceptable", it is even invited with this card.
23. Peace
Radical acceptance is necessary for inner peace and in this case for a higher love. You must first love yourself fully, light and shadow self, before loving someone else in the way that you both deserve! And you deserve radical acceptance, we are all flawed and intricate people! As long as we are willing to change and grow and put in the work, past mistakes can be atoned for.
38. To be fair
This card tells me that you need to learn to be more balanced in relationships. Are you giving more than the other parties? Are you giving less? We must be fair to both others and ourselves. When someone in the relationship gives more, they may feel underappreciated which can become unmotivating, but they can also overwhelm the other person. You must learn balance.
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Pile 2
Charm: Cactus
7. To the sea (reversed)
"When fishermen cannot go to sea, they stay at home and repair their nets." This is a quote from the guidebook that I had to rewrite here because it encapsulates the advice perfectly. You probably long for love like fishermen long for the sea. This card is telling me that the problem isn't coming from you, but the external world. An idea that just popped up in my head is a queer teen living in a homophobic area or with homophobic parents, so it is likely that this could be your situation. If it is, I love you, please take care of yourself, love and better days will come, don't worry! But you must wait a while longer until the external world matches your vibration, perhaps you'll have to move, wait until you're safe to go out to the sea. Until then, go with the flow.
50. No place like home (reversed)
This card seems to work perfectly with the previous one, it reminds us that what is familiar isn't always the best, because it keeps us from growing. If you want change, you can't keep going to the same things/people that haven't worked before, it's counterintuitive. It is natural to go back to what's familiar, but try something new. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Choose unfamiliar.
34. A leg up (reversed)
You are carrying the burden of your world all alone. You probably don't feel safe sharing what you feel, or are very uncomfortable with vulnerability. To be honest with you, right before writing this part of the reading, I started tearing up, you are holding in so much hurt... You need to voice your struggles, being vulnerable is proof of immense strength, believe me! I know it's hard! Start little by little with someone you really trust!
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Pile 3
Charm: Star
35. Loyal Heart
Ok if one pile is ready for the beginning of a relationship it's this one. It is the perfect time for you to create loyal commitments. It is possible that you are already in a committed relationship, but at the very least you are surrounded by loyal, devoted people. Don't forget to be devoted and loyal in return!
4. Higher Power (reversed)
This card is inviting you to trust in whatever divine power you believe in, trust that the universe is divinely guiding you and protecting you. I feel like if a certain religion or spiritual path attracts or fascinates you, you should start looking into it, careful with being disrespectful or appropriating it, especially with closed practices, please do your research! But connecting to Source would be beneficial to you in the long run!
25. Round and Round
You are stuck in a cycle that you must break. Do not worry, you shouldn't feel bad, it's all part of the learning process. Remember: you've been through this before, think back on how that made you feel the previous times, are you sure you want to go through that again? Breaking this cycle is a form of self-care, and you need to care for yourself! You are subconsciously punishing yourself by staying in this cycle, try thinking about the root of why you're doing so! It could help you in breaking it!
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Pile 4
Charm: "Love"
8. The tribe
You may want to find your tribe, or you have recently found it. You might feel like you finally belong, or are longing for that feeling. Whenever I get this card, I think of the astrology/witchcraft/tarot community here! It may be the same for you! You are welcome here, and hopefully, you feel like you belong! Contributing to any community that you are passionate about, whether online or in real life, will bring you great joy and satisfaction. Your tribe awaits and needs you! It's possible that that's where you'll find love as well!
6. Not for you (reversed)
Let them go. Whoever you first thought of, it's time to stop obsessing over them. "Don't chase after what flees you." I'm sure you realize this is not serving you, but how do you stop? This card is suggesting radical acceptance and surrender, that this is a sign that someone or something much better is waiting for you. I suggest reminding yourself that they aren't perfect and that you have just come to idealize them.
52. Mending (reversed)
You are very likely going through a grieving period right now. There is so much hurt and disappointment. "Heartbreak is a strange healer of souls." It may feel awful now, but trust that when you look back one day, you will see that the hurt you're feeling now, transformed you in a powerful way. This card is inviting you to accept the heartbreak and push through it, situations like this open us up to seeing the world in a new way, to growing. Better days are coming!
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Pile 5
Charm: Angel
28. Building blocks (reversed)
Are you acting according to your belief system? Are you following the advice you give others? You must look carefully at your core foundation. It seems to me that you have done a lot of inner growth, but are still stuck in your old ways. Your outer self isn't matching your inner self. Start doing what you preach!
47. Go the distance
I feel like you're someone that wants love right now! For it to come fast and smoothly, like a sprint. You must learn to see love more realistically, as a long-distance race of endurance. You may be the type to immediately run at the sight of a problem. You must learn to be dedicated and work in love, it won't always be the idealized version you keep reading about or watching. Love demands work!
32. Here and Now (reversed)
You live in the past, don't you? So much regret and nostalgia... Or perhaps you live in the future? Daydreams and ambition. There is a need to learn to live in the here and now, you cannot change the past, and the future is infinite. They're both elusive, and unreliable; now is tangible, real, and full of immediate possibilities.
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Pile 6
Charm: Mars Symbol
22. Blessed
This beautiful card talks about an unexpected and "unearned" wonderful event, that seems like divine intervention, a gift from the universe. The advice I take from this card is to practice gratitude because you seem to be blessed in the love department. Perhaps you already know who "the one" is for you. If you don't, trust that the universe has someone wonderful for you!
31. Why?
Ask yourself why you feel as you do about/in love? It is time for some introspection. You need to think and identify unhealthy patterns in your love life. Why do you act as you do in a relationship? Identify what in your past has caused this behavior. It won't solve the problem right away, but it's a good first step. Understanding the problem will be validating.
27. Exchanging gifts (reversed)
"Be careful what you pray for because you might just get it." You need to be ready for the energy exchange that will happen if this happens. This card talks about an imbalance between giving and receiving. You must learn that if you receive a lot, you must return a lot, love needs to be balanced. If you give more, you aren't actually in control, the other party could be consciously or unconsciously taking advantage of your generosity!
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Pile 7
Charm: Eternally Open Heart Locket
17. The Fates
You must learn to accept that there are things and people you simply cannot control and change. You cannot blame yourself for things beyond your control, nor can you blame others for things they cannot control. Just be wise enough to tell the difference between things one can control and things one cannot!! If you have a tendency to mold people into your ideal, making them lose their essence, you must learn to accept people for who they are. It is not your job to change them: the desire to change must come from them, for them.
15. Message in a bottle
Try asking for specific signs from the universe, or start becoming more aware of them. Synchronicities are all around you, they're the way that the universe confirms that you're on the right path! Listen carefully to those you communicate with, they could be delivering a cledon to you. This card itself is a good sign, a favorable answer to the question occupying your mind.
9. Treasure Island
You might've already, but if you haven't, MANIFEST YOUR LOVE!! You will be greatly rewarded when you embrace the law of attraction and your intuition. Depending on your belief in how manifestation works, try being mindful of free will! If you believe that love spells on specific people are influencing their free will, then it is immoral to manifest a specific person. If you don't believe that that is how manifestation works, do as you will, just be in line with your beliefs! This card is also a great sign, you're on the right path, and have good fortune on your side. Very lucky pile!!
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Pile 8
Charm: Boot
2. Yin (reversed)
You must learn to receive, only being the giver isn't good for you. You deserve to receive! Be open to embodying yin and yang equally. "You stop the flow of abundance when you constantly insist upon being the giver." Be the listener, the one that learns, the one that is being led.
33. Chaos and Conflict
You may be afraid of chaos and conflict, but you must remember that they can rid you of what's no longer serving you. Conflict also implies two sides, remember that yours isn't the only one, and conflict can lead to mutual understanding. Learn to put up boundaries, but also to respect those of others. When you finally see the potential of healing that conflict can cause, you'll be ready for mature communication in relationships.
20. Imagine
Remember that you can create what you imagine! Your imagination is powerful in manifesting your desires, but it can't do everything for you! Manifestation is work, when an opportunity arises, act! This card can also be a sign that the person you're manifesting will be entering your life soon. When they appear, don't just wait, and daydream! The imagination part of manifesting is done, now it's time to act.
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Pile 9
Charm: Knife
21. Clean it up
It's time to let go and declutter your mind. Think about what is no longer serving you, about the things that only overwhelm you, and make you overthink, they aren't good for you. It might also help you to declutter in general, your house, your closet, your phone, your feed, etc. Make room for the new and the better.
48. Poised (reversed)
Think carefully, are you really ready for love right now? Because this card is telling me that you aren't. It's ok to be a "late bloomer", and it's important to be ready for love, as to not hurt the one you love, and yourself. Being single isn't a sign of "failure", it gives you the time and space to focus on yourself, on your growth, on your healing, on exploring and understanding yourself. Being single can seem like a curse, but it's a blessing, it's what you need right now.
16. All that glitters
Are you being yourself in love? Are they? Don't succumb to the power of superficiality. Either let go of the mask or look beyond theirs! "Imagine that all the glitter is gone. Would you still desire the object or person?" If one falls for the glitter, what will happen on the day they forgets to glue it on?
Thank you for reading! Love you all.♡
You can buy me a coffee if you feel called to do so! This is never necessary, but always appreciated! ♡
346 notes · View notes
yesimwriting · 3 years
Note
Hi! I have been having an off day I’m kinda exhausted and anxious slightly snappy haha. I was wondering how would the darkling react to an anxious reader that he cares about. 😊
a/n ive been a little MIA but im working i promise!! i felt really apathetic about writing for awhile bc of some personal stuff but ive been trying to get back into it bc im genuinely happier when i write :)
--
- ok so i think how he reacts to an anxious person that he cares about depends on where you're at in the relationship,, which might be kinda a 'duh' but it needs to be said for how im setting this up lol
- bc if he's kinda just starting to figure out his feelings, i think he'd be so surprised by how much he cares that he has to hold back his immediate reactions, bc he may have his faults but he's def protective once he realizes something is affecting/hurting the person he sees as the sun
- that protectiveness stems from wanting to be what makes you happy, he wants to feel like he's your shelter so that he feels like he's good enough for you. He wants you to be happy so he can feel your warmth but he also really wants the redemptive feeling that comes from knowing that he's your protector in a way.
- he wants to protect and make you happy so bad, sometimes you need to be like 'umm...i really appreciate that you want to torture the person that bumped into me a little too hard on a bad day,, but maybe let's not??' especially if you are still in that phase where he kinda scares/intimidates you bc you know him more as the General
- not only are his more over the top reactions a little scary bc you don't want to offend him by not wanting to talk about it to avoid blowing the situation up,, they're also confusing
- bc you had no idea he cared if you lived or died let alone cared if you were nervous or not?? but sometimes it makes you feel really comforted, bc if someone as hardened as the darkling can care that much about how youre feeling than you can't be as awful as you're feeling
- and it's also comforting bc he's clearly strong and powerful and when he puts a hand on your shoulder and stares at you like you're the only tangible thing in the world and telling you that he's not going to let anything happen to you,, the rational part of your anxiety is appeased to say the least.
- alright but that's at like the first stage of the relationship for him, bc i feel like he def has like twenty stages he goes through before finally being in a committed relationship bc even though he wants an attachment and love so badly bc he hates his eternal loneliness, he has a lot of layers to work through before he feels secure enough in you as a person to risk vulnerability
- so if he's at the point where he's accepted what he feels for you,, but has yet to really act on it, this is where he starts to give himself away a little
- like you'll mention being stressed about training in the Little Palace, or not getting along with someone and he immediately jumps to encouraging you. It's kinda funny bc at first he seems like he's just trying to be a supportive pal bc at this point ur sorta friendly (at least more friendly than anyone else is with the darkling) but then he kinda losses himself in talking about how amazing you are.
- and if youre feeling anxiety/bad bc of someone in particular, you better not mention their name unless you're 100 percent sure you're furious at them.
- sometimes it causes some strain bc you don't necessarily want him to get involved, and he's not above lowkey guilting you into telling him the full story, but it's not really intentional. He just starts talking about how much trust he puts in you and you just let the little things go after making him promise to leave things alone.
- if your anxiety is general,, or just bc of a. bunch of little things and he's at a point in which he's accepted how much he cares about you but has not told you yet,, he'll try to hide how soft he feels, but sometimes he slips up.
- honestly, i wouldn't be surprised if a really big relationship milestone came from that.
- like you crying one night and the darkling finding you, and then him taking you back to your room and promising to stay so that you don't have to feel alone and then the next morning you wake up and he's holding you
- at first ur like ?? but he acts so normal you're like maybe that can be platonic? but then it starts happening more and more and neither of you mention it and then when you two finally do get together youre like 'ohh? im stupid'
- and if your anxiety comes from your worry about him?? wow--he'll have to stop himself from kissing you
- this is a man who is so used to being hated/feared that the concept of someone worrying about him so much they physically don't feel well?? that would hit him STRAIGHT in the chest, and he'd be so quick to pull you to him, and then you'd be like--are you ok??
- wouldn't be surprised if that's how you found out he had feelings for you,, like he'd say something like "i didnt know the brightest star in the sky could want to protect the darkness instead of banish it. You're the brightest light I've ever known, it was more than enough for me that you weren't repulsed by my darkness...and now..."
- anyways,, if you were already established together and you were anxious, he would have no need to hold back
- if he notices your hesitant to let him 'help' he might do a thing or two to reduce sources of your stress without telling you...which sometimes leads to you getting a little mad, but depending on how extreme his actions were, he normally smoothes it over quickly
- i mean,, it's just how he shows that he cares, he's never had someone that could snap their fingers and get rid of his adversaries or reschedule a thing or two to make his life easier
- he sees no harm in it,, and even though sometimes other people may give you a bit of a hard time bc of his evident favoritism,, you know it just means he cares
- if he goes really far, you're more willing to be mad at him, but honestly when youre upset all you want is to be near him bc there's nothing more comforting,, so you agree to hold off on arguing lol
- i mean there are always lines that get crossed, so there are times he cant charm himself out of your anger, but the longer youre together the more he tries to hold off on doing things that make you really angry,, unless he feels like the person really hurt you, then nothing can stop his anger
- if youre actually together he's much more quick to comfort you physically if youre feeling really anxious,, he'll kiss you everywhere until he's all you can think about, which works for when your anxious over small things
- if your problem is larger, he cant exactly kiss it away though i cant say that doesnt help but it's still comforting and relaxing bc duh,, so i feel like he's really touchy if youre upset
- kissing sometimes leads to other stuff,, but that should be its own fic/headcanon bc i have a secret head cannon that feeling needed or like the only one his partner has is a turn on for him bc it returns some of the power he feels like he gives up by letting his partner care about him
- might have to write that fic now that im thinking about it....
- if youre so anxious you dont want to be touched, it'll be a little harder for him, but if he reaches for you and you back away he'll try to talk you down and remind you that he's not going to let anything happen and as long as he's breathing he'll make sure you're okay
- if youre officially together and youre anxious about something small, he's actually surprisingly nice to talk to,, before you were close you felt like you were bothering him with small, insignificant things,, but once you know that he cares about you he's a patient listener bc he likes being really present with you when he can bc he's busy so often
- sometimes if youre worried or upset he jumps to anger towards the object of your distress before comfort, but once youre at the dating part, you know that that's just how he is, and anger is how he shows love in a way?? lol, so you just have to clearly tell him that you'd rather him stay with you then rush out and like smite someone, he'll stop and comfort you
- sometimes how much he cares makes him angry at himself bc he begins to question if he'd pick you/your happiness over his goal, if he can't convince himself that you'd never get in the way of that, he gets a little cold until he feels assured in his loyalties or at least assured in the fact that your happiness would never conflict with his goals
- that can happen at any point in your relationship,, i feel like it'd happen more when he's unsure about his feelings bc seeing how much he cares about someone that's nothing to him makes him want to banish his nerves
- overall though,, once he cares about you, whether he's fully accepted it or not, he'd burn the world down to make you feel okay again,, or stay in bed with you for awhile, or both--whatever you want, really
162 notes · View notes
obiwanobi · 4 years
Note
Ok ok but Clem, hear me, I need to share my personal Obi-Wan gets out release some steam in the lower levels of Coruscant but instead of stripping or raving at club, he gets into clandestine fistfights. He just goes all fight club on who wants to get punched in the face. Once, Anakin follows him in secret and find him his nose bloody, bare torso glistening with oil like a gladiator and dozens of fans screaming his (fake) name. He whites out instantely.
THIS IS WHY I’M HERE FOR I wanted to write like 2 paragraphs but then I got really into it, so here’s Anakin going from “time to laugh at my boring old master who I’m definitely not obsessed with” to “ANYWAY denial time’s over, I need him to pin me to the ground in front of everyone immediately”:
It takes fifteen minutes after landing on Coruscant for Anakin to decide that it’s time to bother Obi-Wan. For once, it’s not a decision on a whim, despite the carefree way he announces it to Rex before leaving his troops and ship in the hangar. The Force guides him through the halls and corridors toward the warm and familiar presence of his former master, but Anakin isn’t surprised to feel him preoccupied. 
Obi-Wan has been stuck in the Temple for the past four months.
Because of some careless planning, he was unlucky enough to be on Coruscant when Yoda realised that he was the only council member not currently swamped in various missions off-world. Since it was an unspoken rule that at least a few Council members should always be at the Temple, Obi-Wan has been asked to put his missions in the field on hold, and dedicate his time to represent the Council, until more of its members come back.  
Since then, Anakin has only seen him through holotransmitters for official briefings and reports. The artificial blue lights haven’t hidden the creases between his eyebrows and the twitch of his hands when Anakin raised the topic of his time away from the front, telling him all he needed to know about how Obi-Wan felt about being stranded on Coruscant to do paperwork all day or act as the face of the Jedi Order in the Senate.
Now that he can finally see him in the flesh, it feels natural to seek out Obi-Wan, poke at his poor master and laugh at his concealed misery. There was no doubt that Obi-Wan always brilliantly plays the role of a calm and serene Jedi Master, but Anakin hasn’t spent more than ten years around him without catching on the fact that at heart, he’s still a man of actions who needs some excitement and tangible problems to solve before he grows bored.
Anakin isn’t surprised to find him in the middle of various maps, datapad in hand and pointing something on a holotable at another Jedi. What does surprise him, after a few minutes of waiting for them to be done and the Jedi to go away, is that Obi-Wan is not putting any weight on his left leg. It’s the most subtle of change, probably undetectable to anyone else but someone who has spent so much time watching the way Obi-Wan walks and moves and carries himself. But it’s there. 
“Oh, that?” Obi-Wan says almost like he hasn’t noticed, after Anakin didn’t even bother with a ‘hello’. “A knight asked me for some hand-to-hand training sessions. Since I’m to stay at the Temple for an indefinite period of time, I can at least be useful to others. He didn’t go easy on your old master, that’s for sure,” he quietly laughs, and Anakin will be annoyed at himself later for not noticing the clear bait.
But for now, it’s the perfect opportunity to make fun of him, saying that old men like him should pay more attention to their health, and “be careful Obi-Wan, you’re already part of the Council and drink your tisane before going to bed at 2200, you can’t be going around holding your back and complaining about young people or I’ll start mistaking you with Master Yoda!”
A datapad comes flying at his head and it only makes him laugh harder.
Anakin starts to become suspicious two weeks later.
He arrives in the middle of the night from an exhausting mission in the inmost depths of the mid-rim, and his feet take him directly to Obi-Wan’s quarters. it’s closer than his anyway, and he knows Obi-Wan keeps his old room just the way he left it. If he’s being honest, he should also admit that he spends half of his time there instead of his own quarters. It’s just a question of being used to it, he thinks as he lets himself fall on his old bed. And here at least, he knows he will find the bed made and a cup fo caf waiting for him in the morning. Plus, there is nothing more comforting than the feeling of slipping between fresh sheets and the smell of the familiar citrus detergent, unchanged since his childhood. He should really ask Obi-Wan which one he uses. 
When he opens the fresher’s door the next morning to brush his teeth, he barely notices that Obi-Wan is already taking a shower, complaining about sacred personal space and unruly boys who never learnt common courtesy like not leaving their muddy boots in the living room or barging in occupied freshers behind the curtain. Nothing out of the ordinary, until Obi-Wan comes out with a towel high on his hips, but not high enough to hide the large bacta patch on his back and shoulder. 
“Wha-” Anakin tries to ask between toothbrush and toothpaste, but Obi-Wan is already out of the room, and even outside their quarters with a hurried goodbye when Anakin finishes brushing his teeth. 
Anakin starts to get annoyed when he comes back from Corellia a week later and Madame Nu catches him near the entrance of the library. 
“Please come get your master,” she sighs with a hand grabbing his arm, already dragging him in with unexpected strength. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but this is getting ridiculous.”
The ‘not my master anymore’ is still on his tongue when she makes an exasperated sign to a corner of the library where he finds Obi-Wan seated at a table, chin on his hand and head bowed toward a screen.
Snoring. 
Anakin barely contains his giggle long enough to take a holo and send it to Ahsoka. He takes another one then, closer, focusing on the way the late afternoon sun catches his hair, his beard and his lashes, enfolding Obi-Wan in its warm golden light. Focusing on his peaceful expression. 
 He saves this one for himself. 
Reluctant to disturb him, he allows himself a few more minutes of fondness and gentle affection in front of the scene before putting his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and shaking it gently. The wince and sudden jerk he gets as a result surprise him, before he remembers the flash of a bacta patch in the fresher a week ago. 
“'N’kin? You’re already back?” Obi-wan mumbles, straightening himself with difficulty on his chair. 
“Yes, just arrived a few minutes ago.”
 “What are you doing in the library?” He asks in a light tone. Something cracks, and his hand makes an aborted move toward his shoulder before thinking better of it. “I thought you would only come back this far in the economy section under death threats.”
This time, Anakin doesn’t take the bait. 
“You’re still hurt. Are you going to tell me which knight beat you up and apparently kept you up all night?”
The words have barely left his mouth when he realises the double meaning of his question and there are suddenly a dozen images in his mind and- No no no, it can’t be- Obi-Wan would never... Well, he would. But not this way, not the- Hand-to-hand training? With another knight? Every time Anakin leaves for a certain period of time, when no one will notice if Anakin’s not here? Being so tired that he’s sleeping in the middle of the library? The bacta patch? To get this, that would have- Oh, that would be a sight to- NO, no, this is definitely not it, Anakin has to believe it, or he will lose his mind right there. 
“A knight?” Obi-Wan asks, apparently still too drowsy to sense Anakin’s inner meltdown. He stretches his arms, and Anakin grows even more confused when he realises that his knuckles are scraped. “What are you talking about?” 
 “The- The one you’re training?”
Something passes in Obi-Wan’s eyes and he puts his hands in his sleeves just a little too quickly to look natural. 
“Ah, yes, the knight. Yes, he- we, we’re still having sessions now and then. Good to stay in shape, you know. Now, since you’re back, what do you say about dinner? I’m paying for Dex’s takeout if you go get it.” 
Anakin doesn’t feel focused enough to harass him about his flimsy explanation or tease him about taking a nap in the library. There are way too many incriminating images in his mind he needs to get rid of first. 
The next time he comes back to the Temple after a few days trapped in negotiations with neutral planets, he doesn’t comm anyone and is careful not to let Obi-Wan knows he’s here. He sends R2 and one of his droid pal to stand close to Obi-Wan’s door, and then, he waits. No one pays attention to droids, and most people forget that they have cameras that can be turned on at any point in time, if you ask nicely. It doesn’t take long. At 2240, R2 sends an alert to his comm. He gets his robe, shields himself heavily in the Force, and starts following Obi-Wan.
Anakin really, really doesn’t expect his former master, his “remember that wherever you go, you represent the whole Jedi Order, Anakin, so act accordingly” master, to make his way to the bars and clubs district of the lower levels through hidden shortcuts, bypass cameras and security officers like he’s done it all his life, and knocks at a durasteel door full of graffitis in a language Anakin can’t read.
Definitely not meeting a Jedi knight for regular hand-to-hand training. 
Under his hood, Obi-Wan nods at the Twi’lek who opens the door for him. Anakin lets a few minutes pass before making his way to it. It takes him a heavy mind suggestion to get her to let him in, and when he walks through the door, his heart suddenly starts beating faster in anticipation of what shameful secret he’s going to find.
The thought of seeing Obi-Wan sprawled on a couch of a hidden club with a harem of girls around him crosses his mind, and it twists something he usually tries to ignore in his stomach. It’s not Obi-Wan’s style, it’s so far from everything he knows about his master, but his mind won’t stop entertaining the most insane possibilities of what he does when he’s stuck without Anakin at the Temple and bored by meaningless paperwork. He wouldn’t have imagined Obi-Wan doing anything else but meditate to release tension, but here he is, in the worst part of the whole planet. So what’s next to come?
His throat is already dry, but it’s even harder to swallow when he imagines Obi-Wan letting himself be lead to a private alcove by one of these imaginary girls.
Or boys.
Anakin suddenly thinks that there is no way he’s going to handle this whole thing well.  Whatever he will find will make the effect of betrayal, and he’s not certain why. But Anakin is also convinced that he will be restless and unable to sleep for the rest of his life if he doesn’t get answers. He needs to see, to understand, to know everything about Obi-Wan, even the things he apparently doesn’t want to share. It’s selfish and unkind to his master who has always made a point of respecting his privacy and was probably way too lenient with him during his apprenticeship. He knows that. Now that Anakin has a padawan of his own, he’s fully conscious about all the things Obi-Wan let him get away with for years. He knows. 
But there is something about him that Anakin can’t let go, will probably never be able to let go, that makes Anakin greedy. Demanding. Needy. A poor example of a Jedi that his master would be ashamed of, especially for being the source of it. 
 Anakin refuses to think about it for too long. 
The arena is a distracting surprise.
All of a sudden, he’s pushed in the middle of a crowd, unbalanced by the music, the loud cheers, the flashing lights, the Togruta yelling into a mic, the bell ringing and the thunderous applause all around. No one pays attention to him, way too engrossed in what’s happening in the centre of all this agitation, a few meters down from Anakin’s position.
Nothing could have prepared him for watching the two fighters in the centre of the arena. 
One of the men, the largest one, is face down on the red sand, clearly defeated for the night. Anakin barely notices him, because above him, rubbing his knuckles against his bloody nose before raising it in a universal sign of victory, is Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Polite, well-mannered Obi-Wan, who once lectured Anakin for ten minutes because he walked on a nice carpet with his boots on, is now bare-chested in front of a rowdy crowd roaring at him- no, for him. He’s sweating, cheeks, knees and hands covered in sand and exhibiting massive bruises on his ribs and his shoulder. The wide smile on his face says enough about what he thinks about it. 
When Anakin thinks that he will never truly recover all parts of his brain from seeing Obi-Wan’s muscles gleaming with oil and sweat under the artificial lights, he realises that people are chanting his name. Well, nickname. Even with the deafening sound of his blood pumping in his ears like he’s the one fighting in the middle of the arena, Anakin can’t stop himself from scoffing. How can Obi-Wan get into illegal street fighting in the lowest levels of Coruscant and choose to call himself Ben? At least some of his boring master’s choices don’t surprise him. 
It's not the first time he's watching Obi-Wan fighting with nothing else than his fists. It was even quite common when his master was teaching him how to defend himself, when Anakin was still a young padawan. But Obi-Wan was always so proper about it. Focused on the fastest and most efficient way to get the upper hand without maiming his opponent. The picture of calm and serenity, even while throwing his padawan down on the mat to teach him an important lesson about self-defence. Rarely a strand of hair out of place.
But here? Here it's nothing like the impassive and soft-spoken Jedi Master who doesn’t even seem to sweat in the training room of the Temple. Here, it's a fascinating grin on his face, bloody knuckles in the air, adrenaline and flashing lights painting his red hair a shade too wild. It's a violent and brutal show for glory and entertainment, and it suits Obi-Wan like nothing else before.
Anakin has never wanted to be slammed down in the sand so badly in his life. 
The crowd around him suddenly goes quiet, and it takes Anakin a second to realise it’s because Obi-Wan asked for it with a simple hand raised. There is something fascinating in watching all these strangers obeying him so promptly, eagerly waiting for a word from him, when Anakin can still remember all the times he cut Obi-Wan off in one of his tedious lectures. 
The whole arena holds its breath, and Obi-Wan takes a few seconds to enjoy it. 
“Next!” He finally yells, and the crowd yells back in delight. 
Anakin needs to gather his thoughts. Or what's left of them anyway. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan dodging the punches of his new opponent with a flourish, parrying and making an acrobatic show of throwing him over his shoulders on the ground just for the crowd’s enjoyment is more than distracting. Despite the blood on his face, the bruises, the dishevelled hair and the sand sticking to his torso because of the sweat, Obi-Wan hasn’t looked this carefree since the beginning of the war, and Anakin can’t look away. 
 He can’t decide if he’s content to simply be mesmerized by the whole thing, thrilled to be able to admire Obi-Wan being this bold, almost smug, from far away, where his clear feeling of want doesn’t have to be ignored right away, or angry at him for putting himself in danger for no reason when he’s taking enough risks as it is fighting a war. For once, Anakin is tempted to be the voice of reason for the two of them.
It doesn’t last long.
A minute after the commentator enthusiastically yells into her mic Ben’s victory, a bell still ringing in celebration, Anakin has already made his way to a little booth away from the show, where a bored Kiffar asks him what he wants. Anakin licks his lips, and can’t help feeling like he’s a young padawan again, giddy with excitement and vibrating with anticipation. 
“How much to join?” he asks, but doesn’t let him time to answer before adding, pointing to the arena, “How much to fight him?” 
293 notes · View notes
junetuesday · 4 years
Text
sweetener - [fifteen]
Clarity
Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU
Word Count:  6480
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, The Talk
A/N: surprise!!!! its like 7 am on tuesday and i said i’d post on sunday, my eyes hurt but its done!! lmk what you think!!
Updates: 19th march maybe 
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By the time you and Ruby woke up and managed to venture downstairs in search of food on Saturday morning, Liv had apparently already been up for hours, and had cleaned the living room and kitchen so thoroughly that there was no evidence at all that you’d had predrinks there the night before. The only clue was the carrier bag of alcohol that the boys had left behind sitting by the toaster (though Harrison’s half-full bottle of Southern Comfort had mysteriously disappeared and you found the empty bottle in the recycling later). That was just how Liv tended to deal with things that bothered her - i.e. pretend she was fine and throw all her attention into something else, usually cleaning and/or painting.
The four of you spent the rest of the day watching movies on the sofa, and though the only tangible evidence that anything was wrong was that Liv made you watch Dostana (her comfort movie, though she would never admit it), the atmosphere in the house just felt wrong. Ruby eventually got the train home on Sunday morning, and though of course it was so nice to see her and have her stay, it was equally nice to have some alone time again.
You’d been texting Tom as usual throughout the weekend, but there was something niggling at the back of your mind, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on at first. You couldn’t remember exactly what you’d said to him on the phone when you got home on Friday night, but you had a feeling you might have been a bit short with him - but in your defence, he was being really vague and just not very helpful about the whole thing. Anyway, you realised after it became evident that he clearly hadn’t noticed if you had been off with him, that that wasn’t what was bothering you anyway. What was bothering you was the idea that you were heading in the exact same direction as Liv and Harrison had, and you hadn’t even realised it.
You were almost certain Tom wasn’t seeing other people, or kissing other people on nights out, or doing anything else of that nature with other people - but then that was what Liv thought, and evidently she was wrong about that. She hadn’t said much about it, but from her angry ramblings and the screenshots she sent in the group chat on Sunday night you gathered that Harrison had text her in what you assumed was his usual manner and she had not responded, and she had changed his contact name to ‘Prick’, so you supposed that was the end of that ‘relationship’ - if you could even call it that. Madison made a rather good point (though neither of you would ever say it to her for fear of death), which was, did they ever actually say they were ‘exclusive’, or did Liv just assume? As you and Tom had never had that sort of conversation you thought it highly likely that they hadn’t either - which just made you wonder all the more if your assumption about the nature of your relationship was as misguided as Liv’s had been. You really didn’t think it was though, it really didn’t seem like that was the case - but, you supposed, that was what Liv thought - and so round and round in circles you went, tying yourself up in knots that try as you might you couldn’t wiggle your way out of on your own.
After much deliberation you eventually decided to just put your Big Girl Boots on and ask Tom. The only issue was how - and when? The days went by and it just never seemed to be the right time. You wanted to ask him in person, and the problem was that you only saw him briefly on campus due to the unofficial embargo on boys at your house. You could hardly listen to Liv harp on about how men are trash and then be like ‘ok well I’m off to Tom and Haz’s house, cya later hun’, and you definitely couldn’t bring him over, so you had to make do with meeting between lectures if your breaks coincided, and popping into his work a few times.
Lectures were back on in full swing now, and Tom had rugby training on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday ahead of the first game of the term next week, so the most you saw of him all week was on Tuesday evening. You had a late seminar and he was closing at work, so you went in and hung out while he tidied up and then he gave you a lift home - which was nice, though not necessarily the environment you wanted to have The Talk in. But then, did you even need to have the talk? You were pretty sure Liv and Harrison never hung out like that, that it was only ever really just sex for them, like they weren’t exactly friends. Oh, but what if Tom thought of you as more of a ‘friends with benefits’ type situation? What if what if what if aaaaargghhghghghhhhhh?!??!?!!!
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The solution to your problem came on Thursday evening, when Liv announced she was going home for the weekend. With Madison going to visit Jack, that meant you had the house to yourself, so you asked Tom to come and stay over, and you’d just talk to him then. The next twenty-four hours felt like the longest of your life - your lectures dragged, it took forever to get home, and then you had to just sit and busy yourself at home while Tom finished a shift at work and had two hours of training. By the time he arrived on Friday night your room was absolutely spotless, you’d changed your mind five times about what you were going to order from the Chinese takeaway, and you were practically beside yourself with nervous energy.
“D’you mind if I shower before we order food?” Tom asked as he dropped his bag on your bedroom floor, already pulling his hoodie off over his head.
“Uh, yeah sure.”
You went and got a clean towel out for him, but before you could hand it over you had a vision of yourself sitting waiting for him to come back upstairs and you decided you just couldn’t wait any longer.
“Actually, can I talk to you about something first?”
“Yeah?” Tom glanced over his shoulder at you as he rummaged through his bag for a change of clothes.
“Okay, so,” you began, folding the towel over your arm as you sat down on your bed. “You know, uh- you know last week?”
“I remember last week, yes,” he chuckled, still not looking up properly from his bag. Though maybe that was better, if he didn’t look directly at you. Ughhh!!
“Right so, last week before we went out, Ruby was asking me about...you. And like, I dunno, what...we...are..?”
“Oh,” he stopped what he was doing then, standing up from where he was kneeling by his bag and sitting down in your desk chair instead. “And what did you say?”
Oh God, it was definitely better when he wasn’t looking.
“I said, like, I dunno,” you avoided his gaze, picking at a loose thread on the towel in your arms instead. “I guess we were like, seeing each other or whatever…” You paused for a second, debating whether to stop talking and see if he’d say anything, before deciding to just barrel on through. “...and she asked if we were seeing other people and I said no because, like, I’m not and I didn’t think you were, and then Liv said it was the same with her and Harrison and now it’s like, clearly she was wrong and I’m just wondering if...you know...I’m wrong.”
“Oh,” Tom said again, which wasn’t very helpful, but then you heard the wheels of your chair rolling across the floor as he scooted towards you, making you look up as he stopped in front of you. “You’re not wrong.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not seeing anyone else. Or like, texting anyone or whatever, and I don’t...want to? Like I’m not interested in other people… ‘cause I… like… you.”
Oh.
“Oh. Good. I mean- yeah, cool,” you nodded, watching as Tom’s hand came to rest on your knee. “I mean, I like you, too.”
“Cool,” he smiled, mimicking your tone.
“So like- hm,” you sighed, pressing your fingertips against the dips between Tom’s knuckles one by one as you considered what to say next. “She also - Ruby, I mean - asked me if you were my boyfriend, and I said no, but-”
“But?”
You blinked at him, your hand hovering over his. “...I dunno…”
“I wouldn’t mind if you’d said yeah.”
“...yeah?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, lifting his hand from your knee and linking his fingers between your own. “I’d be happy to be your boyfriend if you wanted me to be.”
“Okay,” you smiled, biting down gently on your bottom lip as you nodded. “Cool.”
You didn’t really know what else to say, but thankfully you were saved from having to think of anything by Tom’s free hand tilting your face up to his, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss. Well, it started soft, his lips just barely brushing over yours, but by the time you pulled apart you’d tossed aside the towel in your arms, one of your hands on his thigh and the other on his cheek, while his hands rested either side of you on the bed. Your foreheads pressed together, you hummed as you searched for words.
“Anyway, uh, sorry, yeah - did you want to shower?”
“Eh, I can shower later.”
You ran your thumb across his cheekbone as his lips gently prised apart your own, smiling into the kiss. Your other hand moved to his waist as your bodies shifted, holding onto his t shirt as you lay back on the bed. You held his body close to yours as he lay down on top of you, hitching one leg up over his hip. It wasn’t long before his lips left yours and started travelling south, down your neck and chest. You tilted your head back to give him more room, moaning softly when he sucked on your skin harshly, pulling down the front of your top. He tried to pull it down further, but unfortunately it just wasn’t going any further.
“Lemme just-”
“--yeah.”
You sat up a little, pulling your top off over your head with some assistance from Tom, who quickly tossed it onto the floor as soon as it was free of your body. Kissing down your chest, his hands massaged your breasts through your bra. You lay back on the bed as he pulled down one of the cups, your breath hitching sharply when you felt him flick your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Running your fingers through his hair, you arched your back to bring your body closer to his as he repeated his actions on your other breast, before continuing his way down your body. He pressed kisses to your stomach, undoing the button on your jeans as he shuffled down the bed, until he was about to slide off the end - he didn’t, thankfully, but he did get off the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he tugged your jeans off your legs, your slippers going with them into the pile of clothes Tom was quickly forming on your freshly-tidied floor. Your bum perched on the edge of the bed, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. You watched with bated breath as he kissed along your inner thighs, making his way up from your knee, across your hips as he tucked his fingers under the band of your knickers, and down to your opposite knee as he pulled them down.
Your underwear cast aside, Tom knelt back on the floor, his hands on the backs of your thighs as you lifted your legs, bending your knees so that your feet were planted on the edge of the bed. You took a shaky breath in as you felt his breath fanning over you for a moment before his tongue darted out, circling your entrance slowly before moving upwards. You held your breath until he reached your clit, the touch of his tongue so gentle it almost tickled. The sensation made you twitch, your hips bucking up against his face - not on purpose, but you couldn’t really move in any other direction.
Intentional or not, it was enough to make him change tack completely. You gasped as his mouth moved against you much more firmly and more purposefully, his grip on your thighs tightening as his tongue dipped inside you. Your toes curled as he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it as you lay back and let your fingers toy with your nipples.
After a while one of his hands left your thigh, and you felt his mouth leaving your pussy for a second, then his damp finger pushing inside you slowly a moment later. You hummed appreciatively at the feeling of something inside you, grinding down onto his hand instinctively. His tongue massaging your clit, Tom soon added a second finger, scissoring them inside you and stretching you open. You could feel his thumb and the rest of his fingers pressing against you as he slid his fingers in and out, a warmth of pleasure building up inside you with each movement.
His breathing heavy on your soft skin, Tom pulled back slightly, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thigh as he twisted his wrist. His hand now palm-up, he crooked his fingers so that they brushed against that spot in your walls.
“Oh fuck,” you breathed, swallowing hard as you stared up at the ceiling.
Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs tensing as he repeated his movements, just his fingertips working your g-spot. You felt like your insides were twisting, tight and ready to snap at any moment, your breathing hitching as Tom scattered kisses across your skin until he was back where you needed him to be, his tongue firmly back on your clit, and suddenly you were coming.
Squeezing your breast, you tweaked your nipple between your fingers as you moaned breathlessly, your heels lifting off the bed as your legs tensed up. Tom just kept going, fingers curling and tongue flicking until your legs gave out and dangled over the edge of the bed once more, your body slumping against the mattress. He went back to kissing your thighs as he sat back on his heels, wiping his fingers on his joggers.
Propping yourself up on your elbows again, you looked down at him as you caught your breath and your mind began to clear. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his cheeks flushed and his lips pink and shiny.
“You’re really good at that.”
“Thanks,” he chuckled, the sound coming out a bit muffled as he pulled his t shirt off over his head at the same time.
You sat up more as he reached over to your bedside cabinet, your eyes drawn to the outline of his dick that was very visible through his joggers. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tugging the bottom one between your teeth to nibble on it gently before you spoke.
“Actually, um, I was gonna say… I’m on the pill. So like, if we’re just, you know,” you gestured between the two of you, shrugging. “With each other then…”
“Oh,” he paused, his hand still on the drawer handle.
“Don’t really need to - I mean, if you still want to that’s fine.”
“No, no,” Tom shook his head, sitting back down where he was before. “If you’re good, I’m good.”
“I’m assuming you would have told me before now if you had anything…” you wrinkled your nose, wiggling your fingers in the direction of his crotch. “...nasty.”
He laughed, shaking his head again.
“Yeah, no, I’m all good there.”
“Cool,” you nodded, grinning. “...me too.”
“Cool.”
Without further ado, Tom stood up, taking off his joggers and boxers. Standing back between your legs, he hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up, leaning down and kissing you softly before letting you lie back on the bed. You swallowed thickly as his hands trailed over your thighs, spreading them apart before he wrapped his fingers around his length, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. You whined as he nudged your clit, biting down on your lip as he gradually pushed inside you an inch at a time. Tom groaned once he fully sank into you, his hands coming to rest on the bed either side of your waist as he leant over you. You couldn’t really do very much except lie there, your legs bent up either side of his hips as he started to thrust into you, slowly and steadily, so you just took him in, your eyes raking over his body above you; his chest, his shoulders, the column of his throat, the hard line of his jaw.
You held onto his arms, your fingers digging into the muscle as his thrusts began to speed up, your body jerking with each snap of his hips against your own. It felt so good, soft moans falling from your lips, but after a while his movements started to slow. With longer, deeper thrusts, Tom leant down closer to you, until his face was buried in your neck and you heard him groan.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing off against the bed to hold himself up over you. “My feet are slipping.”
“S’okay,” you laughed, almost relieved - for a moment there you thought he was gonna say he’d come already, which would have been less than ideal.
You sat up as Tom pulled back, slipping out of you as he straightened up, and you realised that he had been at kind of a weird angle, his feet on the floor but his body tilted over yours.
“Okay, uh...”
You thought for a moment before getting to your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders to help pull yourself up. Kneeling on the bed, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss - because you might as well, while you were there. You could feel his dick pressing against you as you kissed, so you trailed one hand down his chest and wrapped your fingers around his length. Tom groaned as you stroked his cock, your thumb rubbing over the tip smoothly as you pressed another kiss to his lips (and another, and another...) before you pulled back, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip as you went.
Shuffling on the bed so that your back was to him, you looked back over your shoulder at him as you bent over, arching your back and sticking your ass out as you got on all fours. You just caught a glimpse of his grin before you turned back around, following his lead as he grabbed your hips and pulled your body closer to his. You closed your eyes as you felt him rub his cock along your folds again, both of you groaning as he eased back inside you.
It occured to you then that you were home alone, so really you could be as loud as you liked. As far as you were concerned, making noise during sex was a lot like singing along to a good song: sure, humming along and nodding your head was alright, but you enjoyed it more if you could really get into it and belt out the lyrics. So with that in mind, you let yourself pant out moans and curses as much as you wanted, gripping the sheets beneath you and pushing back to meet Tom’s thrusts, his cock hitting deep inside you each time.
“Fuck…” Tom groaned under his breath, “can I slap your arse?”
You didn’t really think about it, you just breathed out the word ‘yeah’ in between moans, and then a moment later you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass cheek, and then his fingers digging into your skin as he squeezed the same cheek, his palm pressed to the tingling skin as his thrusts slowed to a stop, his cock buried deep inside you. Interesting. You decided you preferred a good firm squeeze to a slap, but at least now you knew.
Pushing back against him, you rolled your hips in a circle, grinding on his cock to try and urge him to move again. You moaned his name when you felt him nudge that spot inside you, and that seemed to do the trick. His breathing heavy behind you, Tom thrust into you at the same angle, again and again. Your jaw went slack, your mouth hanging open as he kept going, unable to form any sort of coherent sound as he pounded into you faster and harder.
Your shoulders slumped as you let him take control of your body, his cock slipping out of you as you dropped down onto the bed - though he was quick to fix that, a gutteral ‘fuck’ escaping from his lips as he scrambled to reposition himself. His hands were back on your hips in an instant, keeping your ass in the air. Your chest pressed to the sheets and the force of his movements jerking your body back and forth, your bra rubbed against your hard nipples with each thrust, only adding to the pleasure coursing through your body - and then you reached down and pressed your middle finger to your clit, and you were done for.
“I- shit - I’m gonna come-”
“Fuck-”
You barely heard Tom swear behind you as your whole body tensed, your eyes squeezing shut and your pussy clenching around his cock as you started to come. You moaned loudly, your body jerking as your thighs twiched, until the knot in your stomach snapped, sending pleasure flooding through you, all the way to the tips of your toes. All the tension went out of your body and your mind went blank, only vaguely aware of Tom’s thrusts stopping suddenly, his hips pressed firmly against your ass as he came inside you with a loud moan of his own.
With shaky arms you pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees, your head hanging down as you tried to catch your breath, blinking furiously to try to get your eyes and mind to focus properly.
“Shit,” you breathed after a moment, finally looking back at Tom.
He just chuckled breathlessly as you caught his eye, grinding into you one last time before he pulled out - and as soon as he did, you realised there was something you’d forgotten about. Without a condom, well - what goes up, must come down.
“Um…” you hummed as you turned onto your back carefully, already feeling his come starting to drip out of you. “Can you get me a tissue please?”
“Oh fuck yeah, sorry… ”
Pressing the tissues he passed you between your legs, you sat up a bit on the bed as Tom grabbed some tissues for himself.
“So that shower-” you started, breaking off with a giggle when Tom laughed. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sure.”
You nodded, but sat there for a moment longer. You really couldn’t be bothered getting up… but you should. You can do this.
You eventually got to your feet - with some help from Tom tugging on your hands until you were vertical and about to fall on top of him. Waddling slightly to keep the tissue between your legs, you went over to get your dressing gown off the back of your door as you took off your bra. You debated which one to go for, strongly tempted by the fluffy one, but eventually decided on the silky, “sexy” one, offering the fluffy one to Tom instead.
“D’you want this?”
“Oh,” he looked over from where he was trying to untangle his boxers from his joggers, dropping them back on the floor once he saw what you were offering. “Yeah, thanks.”
Wrapping your robe around your body, you took your own towel off its hook on the back of your door as Tom grabbed the one you’d given him, shaking it out after picking it up off the floor.
“Do you need like, a hair towel? Do boys use a hair towel?”
“A what?” Tom looked at you with a confused smile as he tied the tie of your dressing gown around his waist.
“Like another towel...for your hair…” you trailed off, not really sure how else to explain.
“Oh, to do the twisty thing!” he gestured as he spoke, moving his fingers in a swirl to demonstrate ‘the twisty thing’. “No thanks, I’m good.”
“Okay - I don’t know I just thought I’d ask.”
“Do you not need one?” Tom asked as you made your way downstairs towards the bathroom.
“Oh, no, I’m not gonna wash my hair.” You hung your towel on the back of the bathroom door, stepping aside to let Tom do the same. “So please don’t get my hair wet.”
“Right - I’ll do my best.”
The bathroom felt smaller than you remembered it being, but maybe that was because you’d only really ever been in there on your own - with a few exceptions (e.g. you and one or both of the girls had been running late and had to brush your teeth at the same time, or you’d been having a conversation at predrinks that was way too important to stop just because someone had to pee). Tom tried to keep out of your way as you fiddled with the taps on the bath, getting the temperature right before you switched the water flow to the shower attachment that was mounted to the wall.
“You have a lot of… stuff…” he pointed to the bottles clustered together on three of the four corners of the bath tub.
“I mean it’s not all mine, there are three of us,” you explained while you tried to toss the wad of tissue from between your legs into the toilet without him noticing.
“I guess,” he shrugged, not sounding convinced. “There’s three of us in my house and we don’t have that much stuff.”
“Yeah but you’re three boys,” you pointed out, as if that was an obvious explanation for the difference.
Taking off your robe and placing it on the radiator, you shivered slightly. Admittedly it wasn’t particularly warm in the bathroom, but you also just felt kind of strange being like hiya, I’m naked again now. It was different when you were having sex, but now it was out of context almost.
It was a bit better once you got under the water though, careful to keep your head away from the spray as Tom took off his dressing gown and stepped in after you. You had to maneuver around each other so that you were both at least partly under the water, which was only really possible if you stood really close together, face to face but side on to the stream of water, but you didn’t really mind that - and apparently neither did he.
“Hi,” he muttered, his arms wrapping around your waist as yours draped around his shoulders before he kissed you.
“...hi,” you mumbled against his lips, trying and failing miserably to stop yourself smiling like a big dumb idiot.
“So,” his hands shifted from your hips to your bum, sliding easily over your wet skin. “What’d you think?”
You just looked at him blankly, your head tilting in silent question.
“You know…” he trailed off, which wasn’t very helpful because you clearly didn’t know, but then he tapped your bum lightly with his hand, the action making a disproportionately loud smack because of the water, and it clicked.
“Oh! Uh, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “Like if you want to do that I don’t mind but like, don’t do it just for my benefit.”
Tom nodded, humming.
“Right, okay.”
“...sorry.”
You didn’t really know why you apologised, it just came out because he looked… not exactly disappointed, but not delighted either. He shook his head though, his expression shifting to one that plainly said you needn't have apologised.
“Nah don’t be silly. I don’t really mind either way, just wanted to try it, you know?”
“Oh right, okay. Well… now we know.”
“Now we know,” he repeated your words back to you, a smile spreading across his face when you laughed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Your fingers tangling in his hair, you simply pulled Tom’s face closer to yours so you could kiss him without getting your face wet. You could feel him smiling against your lips before you kissed him, and again after before he spoke.
“Okay,” he murmured in between kisses. “We should probably,” kiss “actually shower” kiss “at some point…”
“Okay,” you matched his tone, but you weren’t about to be the one to put a stop to the series of kisses you were trading back and forth.
“Okay,” Tom said again after an indeterminate amount of time, but he actually did stop kissing you this time, which frankly was a bit rude. “Which section of The Body Shop is yours?”
“Ha ha,” you tried to keep your face stoic as you pretended to laugh, but it didn’t really work. “Behind you.”
You did your best to avoid the water splashing off of Tom’s body as he turned around, not wanting to get your face wet because you still had make up on, and you figured that mascara running down your face probably wasn’t a good look for you.
“Oh right, of course,” he said as he turned back to face you, holding your warm vanilla shower gel (which, ironically, was actually from The Body Shop). “This explains so much.”
“What do you mean?” you frowned, taking your shower puff off the hook on the wall and holding it out for him to squirt some of the gel onto.
“Like you always smell really… I dunno, vanilla-y.” He put some gel out onto his hand before setting the bottle back down. You had been about to offer him some of the more boyish stuff Madison had for when Jack visited, but it was too late now. “Like that’s your thing.”
You thought about it as you both lathered up, bubbles quickly foaming across your bodies.
“I guess? I think I got it as a Christmas present or something.”
“But you have like, vanilla candles and you get vanilla lattes and, I dunno, don’t you have a lipgloss or something that’s vanilla?”
You’d never really thought about it before, but you supposed he was right. It made you feel all khgshglhsfshgiu that he’d noticed things like that about you though, so you just hummed as you scrubbed at your chest and arms.
“Want me to do your back?”
“Oh, uh - yeah, thanks.”
Passing him your shower puff, you turned around, careful not to slip in the small space. You sighed as you felt the hot water cascading down your back, dipping your head forwards to try and keep your hair out of the way as Tom gently rubbed the puff over your skin. You closed your eyes, letting your body relax as he washed your shoulders and your back - only to tense up again when his wet hair tickled your skin as he kissed your neck, his arms looping around around your waist once he was done.
“Ahhh that tickles!” you giggled, turning back around in his arms.
“Sorry.”
He didn’t look a bit sorry, but you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek all the same.
Taking your shower puff back and hanging it up again, you took turns on who was more under the water so that you could both rinse off. Tom was shampooing his hair while you were under the water, and as you rinsed the suds from your back you realised that there was one part of you hadn’t washed yet, and for whatever reason you didn’t want to just be like ok I’m gonna wash my vag now! You’d noticed Tom had given himself a quick scrub while he was under the water, but you knew you’d have to be a bit more thorough than that, and unfortunately your anatomy meant that everything was at a much less accessible angle than it was for him.
“Um,” you cleared your throat, not really sure how to word what you were wanting to say. “I’m sorry, can you like, turn around while I wash my… bits?”
“What?” Tom laughed, still lathering shampoo into his hair.
“I don’t knowww,” you groaned. “I just - please?”
“Okay, okay, sure.”
With that you both turned around so you were back to back, you facing the shower and him facing the end of the bath. It was stupid, you knew it was, but you still felt better that he wasn’t watching you as you took the shower head off the wall to wash between your legs.
“‘Kay, I’m done,” you placed the shower head back in its place, swapping places with Tom so he was under the water again to rinse the shampoo from his hair.
You didn’t really have anything else to do then, having already had a shower earlier in the day, and while it was nice to watch Tom tilt his head back as the water washed over him, it was cold out of the water, and the droplets on your body were cooling rapidly, and so you’d like to either be back under the hot water or under a blanket in some warm pjs. You had a feeling that if you got back under the water with Tom you might never get out, though, so you made the tough decision to just get out.
“I’m gonna get out.”
Tom just nodded to show he’d heard you, his eyes and mouth tight shut so he didn’t get shampoo in them.
Stepping out of the shower and grabbing your towel, you dried yourself off a bit before wrapping your towel around your body, pulling your robe on over the top. By then Tom had finished too, turning the taps off and taking the towel you passed him, using it to scrub his hair before wrapping it around his waist and joining you on the bath mat. You were a bit jealous when he put your dressing gown back on, all warm off the radiator - your silky robe wasn’t nearly as snuggly.
But, soon enough you were dried and moisturised and dressed, and you weren’t jealous anymore, because Tom had brought you the pair of pyjama bottoms you usually wore when you stayed at his, and you had his hoodie, and those were just as good if not better than a warm dressing gown. Tom sat on your bed, setting up movies to watch on your laptop while you took off your make up and just generally fiddled about with various skincare products that you weren’t really sure actually did anything.
Once that was done, your face successfully cleansed and toned and whatever-else’d, you figured you should make the most of your free house, so you took your laptop downstairs to plug into the TV. Tom ordered the Chinese food while you made cups of tea for you both, and soon enough you were curled up on the sofa watching a movie and wondering how and why you managed to eat so much food. You managed to get the whole way through Shutter Island, and you’d planned to watch Legally Blonde too, only by the time you’d put the leftovers away and everything you were almost falling asleep so you decided to leave it until the next day (though when you actually got into bed you didn’t exactly go straight to sleep, but anyway…)
The following day consisted mainly of eating Chinese leftovers, watching Legally Blonde and drinking lots of cups of tea - and that was absolutely 100% fine with both of you. Sometime in the late afternoon, you decided to take a break from movies for a while, having ticked off one from both your lists - so, naturally, you switched to Friends on Netflix.
A couple of episodes in, ‘The One With All The Rugby’ came on, and you realised then you didn’t really have any idea what an actual rugby game looked like. You weren’t even sure if that was the right term - was it game or match? Both? Either? Neither? That wasn’t your main concern though, you were more concerned about everyone acting all weird and worried about Ross playing rugby.
“It’s not really that bad, is it?” you asked Tom, looking over at him beside you on the sofa, your legs curled up under you and a pile of blankets across you both.
“Nah, they’re just being dramatic - Americans, you know?”
You just hummed, looking back at the TV.
“Do you wear knee pads?”
“No,” Tom laughed, shaking his head.
“Hmm,” you said again, watching Ross stumble around all covered in blood and mud (despite his knee pads). “Is that what you’re going to look like on Wednesday?”
“Nah, don’t worry. I don’t actually go in the scrum anyway I just like, feed the ball in and then take it out the back.”
“...right.”
Tom spent the next twenty minutes trying to explain the rules and positions to you, and by the end of it your grasp on the difference between a maul and a ruck was tenuous at best. But, you knew what a try and a conversion were, so that was something - and anyway, you figured you’d just kind of gauge by the atmosphere and the score how it was going, and you’d be happy if he could still walk properly at the end of it.
“...anyway, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“Oh no, I want to come,” you nodded enthusiastically, looking up from where you’d been playing with the hairs at the back of Tom’s neck. He’d just let his hair air dry last night, and it had grown back enough now that it was remarkably curly when given the chance, and as such you hadn’t been able to stop fiddling with it all day.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, ‘course,” you nodded again, a bit taken aback by the uncertainty in his voice. “Can’t wait to see you in your little shorts.”
“Oh fuck off-”
You just laughed as Tom groaned, leaning away from you so you couldn’t reach his hair anymore, the smile tugging at the corners of his lips giving him away though he was trying so hard to look annoyed.
⋘ FOURTEEN | SIXTEEN ⋙
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The Sacrifice of Lila Rossi
Cyberpunk Mafia AU:
The small Medbay of The Garden had always been cramped, but ruthlessly organized to be the most efficient center for treatment in the city. Max, despite being someone that cared vary little for the acclaim and praise of others found joy in knowing that if he was known for anything, it was how well he could help people, especially since he was so often without the best methods to tackle a problem. He’ll often claim that when there are a thousand and one ways to use a paperclip, he could do the impossible with whatever he had on hand, he just wishes the universe didn’t actively try to test that theory…
In a rush a panic the crew of The Garden wheeled in a stasis pod, the contents of which was one Aurore frozen in a single moment within the chamber. Her eyes were wide in a mixture of fear and panic, several small burns littered her skin, a sign of far too many close calls at the wrong end of a plasma rifle, but the most prominent injury was the practical crater where her heart should have been the deep red of blood already overpowered the light blues of her usual attire well before she could make it into stasis.
“Alright I need a full report of the incident, no detail is too small.” Max rattled off to the panicked crew, already descending into his cocoon of holoscreens, processing information far faster than any normal human could. “Markov, activate ALL emergency protocols, I want to be prepared for the slightest hiccup.”
“Affirmative” a monotone synthetic voice rang out in the laboratory as several pieces of advanced equipment sprang to life.
“Please Doctor, you have to help her.” Sabrina begged as she refused to leave the side of pod. “I can’t just get my emotions back just to hurt like this. Please…”
“It’ll be ok Sabrina. Max is the best at what he does. Just let him do his thing” replied Rose who gently guided her away from the pod and into the arms of Chloe who hugged the girl with everything she could. “Alya, if you want your friend to get better, I suggest you answer his questions.”
“R-right” said Alya, snapping her attention from the pod, her whole body still shaking. “It was a mark III plasma rifle, like a really modified, really illegal model. We were so close to getting tangible proof that Argeste Industries was running corrupt experiments for the Mayor, we could finally put an end to the missing person posters…  but there was this huge gorilla looking dude that attacked us. He looked like he was being mind controlled since his eyes were blank. He decked me and sent me flying into a wall. He was about to blast me point blank when Aurore blocked the shot with her umbrella. The blast tore right through it and got her in the heart. Thankfully, the broken umbrella made some kind of flashbang so I used a stasis capsule to try and stop the bleeding and got us here as fast as I could. She… She saved my life…” she took a moment to compose herself, trying to ground herself in the present. “I… I have the footage. Here.” Placing her palm on a terminal, a copy of the footage began playing on one of Max’s screens.
“Looks like you’ve found Gordan Rillan,” said Max. “He was a dock worker that used to work at the pier before the mayor allowed a competitor to take the whole thing over and put Gordan in serious debt. Argeste industries offered him a position and then he was reported missing shortly after. Scans seem to show he’s suffered an even more advanced version of whatever the hell they did to Kim… As for the blaster well, its partially radioactive and goes against several international laws. Her heart can’t be salvaged. The stasis prevented the spread of radiation but… there’s no fixing this without an outright replacement.”
“Please there has to be something!” Sabrina begged. What if I gave her my heart, I can survive being shut down for a while and we can fix me up later.”
 “Unfortunately, since she doesn’t have a single interface, I can’t implant an artificial replacement. By the time I’ve put in the tech needed for a mechanical heart to work she’d already be gone. Unless we manage to find an organic option, and soon, I can’t do more than this and the stasis won’t hold forever.”
“Max.” everyone’s attention was brought to the main terminal which was glowing a bright pinkish orange, Lila’s true avatar on the screen. “What about project phoenix. I looked at the stats. They’re a match.”
“Lila… you do realize what you’re asking right?” Max asked, concern heavy in his voice.
“I do.”
“Alright…” inputting a few commands from his chair, a storage compartment opened up revealing a similar pod, only this one housed the same girl on the screen.
“Is that-” Alya began but couldn’t bring herself to finish.
“Yeah, it is.” Lila replied as she seemed to stare sadly at her own corpse. “when Gabriel, did what he did… he sold my body on the black market. Me and Max managed to find it before it was cut up, but the damage to the brain was too much. Max has been trying to hide that bit of info from me, maybe even try to lie to himself, but I already know the truth. I’m not coming back, at least not this way.” Her attention drifted to Sabrina who was beginning to understand the implications of what was about to happen. “The old me, the one long dead in that pod, she never once went out of her way for someone else, she never really could. She spent every day living by lying through her teeth. Other people were either targets or threats.”
“Sounds like a pretty lonely way to live…” commented Rose with sad compassion, remembering some of the patrons she couldn’t manage to save over the years.
“It was” replied Lila, a hollow chuckle punctuating her point. “It wasn’t until I ‘died’ that I finally found out that sometimes… people aren’t so bad. I somehow got myself a little brother in desperate need of my street smarts, but with a heart of absolute gold, and a Mom in desperate need of a vacation, but who actually looks at me, the absolute mess of a girl, and saw a daughter she actually said she was proud of… Heck if Clara keeps it up I might even have a second mom in the works.” There were some distortions to her avatar and you could swear they looked like tears. “and now that I know what it feels like to care about someone, I’m not about to let you lose the one you care about. Besides, we still need ‘Chameleon’ right now if we’re going to set things right after this.”
“Thank you so much Lila,” Sabrina replied, she reached a hand out to the terminal and her hand glowed ever so slightly the same color. It wasn’t a perfect touch, but Lila could feel the hand all the same, and Sabrina could the slightest sensation of someone grasping it.
“Lila,” Max caught her attention, “the promise still stands, I WILL bring you back one day.”
“I know you will Max. I’ll be looking forward to it. But for now we have a life to save, and the girl I once was deserves to do at least one good deed before she’s retired.” ———
Oh shit-
Well- damn Lila
Now that’s a fucking redemption arc holy shit
Thank you. That was fucking amazing.
I feel so bad for Aurore- what a trooper though- bitch got her heart exploded and she’s fucking fine
God dang
Poor Lila too—Holy shit I made her suffer in this au. Chameleon baby needs a break. Her accidentally becoming Adrien’s sister is really cute. I’m proud of her development, I hope I give her a happy ending.
Max and Lila being bro’s is lovely and fun. They’re too smart for their own good. This was amazing, thank you so much for this, I’m glad you guys like this au, I know I do.
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itisannak · 4 years
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Love of my life (Ashton Irwin Fluff)
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Summary: Ashton and (Y/N) are trying to figure out co-parenting. Which is really not as easy as it seems when there are still feelings involved. (Request) (Words: 4.5k) (Part 1:  Unexpected)
There has only been a moment since I've been able to put Ethan to sleep and I feel like I am about to pass out from the exhaustion. I have had him home for only 3 days and I swear, that baby must of hate the idea of me being able to fall asleep.
And right as I thought that I will finally go to sleep for the next 30 minutes that it will take baby Irwin to demand to be fed, the doorbell goes off, making me gasp in dread as Ethan begins crying. I sigh, closing my eyes as I slide my feet from the couch to the little basin he is sleeping in and pick him up. "Hush little baby, don't you cry..." I begin singing as I bounce him softly and walk to the door. I open the door, revealing Ashton all smiley behind the door. "Look at you, with your 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep... Thinking you can just ring people's doorbells..." I sing in the rhythm of the lullaby as Ashton walks in. "Did I wake you up?" He asks, closing the door softly. "Worse, you woke the siren up..." I coo, plastering a fake smile on my face. "I am so sorry. Wanna hand him to me?" He offers, leaving the grocery bags on the floor. "It's fine. I will just rock him to sleep and then go die." I state, kissing the baby's head. "He has quite the voice for a 6-day old." He comments, chuckling proudly. "Irwin, I swear to God, I will gauge your eyes out." I murmur, too tired to even keep courtesy. "I'll go put the stuff in place." He backs away, leaving me in the living room to try and put Ethan back to sleep.
He finally falls back asleep, making me sigh relieved. I just hope Ashton gets the fuck out of my house soon so I can get some precious pillow minutes. "Wow, you look fine." Ashton comments in a whisper as he walks back in the living room. I flip him off, blinking slowly as I relax more and more. "Go to sleep in your bed. I'll look over him." He suggests, looking inside the basin. "What if he wakes up?" I ask, making him chuckle. "I'll try to calm down. Come on, I've taken care of my siblings when they were babies." He helps me get up, lightly shoving me towards my bedroom. "Are you sure about that?" I ask and he hums. "Yes, I am sure. Go." He replies, making me nod before I walk to the bedroom and plop softly on top of the bed.
When I wake up, I find Ashton holding Ethan to his chest as the newborn sleeps softly. "How long have I been asleep?" I ask and he chuckles at me. "2 and a half hours... He has been sleeping the whole time. Such a daddy's boy." He replies, rubbing his hand on the baby's back. "I am screwed." I sigh, massaging my temples. "I ordered you some coffee from Postmate." He points at the cups on the coffee table. "I can't have coffee." I reply as I sit on the couch. "Why?" He asks in confusion. "I am breastfeeding. And this little fella likes his milk with no coffee." I coo, running my hand over his fuzz-covered baby head. "He is so cute when he sleeps. Baby angel..." I comment, smiling at the baby who has bunched up his little hands. And then he groans as he wakes up, crying a bit and making me sigh. "What? Why? What does he want?" He asks, panicking a little. "He needs milk." I sigh, lowering my tank top and freeing my breast from the maternity bra. "Oh..." He blushes as he hands him to me, immediately turning around. "You've seen me naked before. I mean, there is tangible evidence." I state as Ethan begins suckling. "Yeah, I know... But that was a while ago." He replies, stuttering a little.
I yawn as I lean back, looking at the little boy as he breastfeeds. "Why are you actually here?" I ask him, chuckling at him as he is still with his back to me. "Uh, I guess... I wanted to talk to you about how we are going to handle this whole thing... Like, I don't know, how we are going to co-parent, and we need to talk about it. Just us, no lawyers or third-persons. You and I, we were always good at talking things out." He explains and I bite my lip. "Can we do it after Ethan is done eating?" I ask and he hums in agreement. "Sure... I'll go make you some tea, I guess." He offers and I hum. "I have some ginger tea in my cabinet... It helps with nursing." I say as he walks to my kitchen.
I am trying to help the baby burp when Ashton walks to the couch with my tea. "Don't worry... I covered up, you can look at me." I joke and he scuffs. "I bought some food I read that's good for post-partum. And diapers for the baby. I didn't know if you needed anything else... If you do, just tell me..." He suggests and I brush him off. "Calum is coming over tomorrow, he said he'll do grocery shopping." I reply, laying the baby on the couch to check his diaper. "What's the deal with you and Calum?" He asks, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. "What do you mean?" I ask him, looking at him with knitted eyebrows. "He knew about the pregnancy, he was there the whole time, he has been helping you through it, and he was there when you went in labor... And now he is coming over to take care of you. What is going on with you two?" He asks nonchalantly. "He is just taking care of us. I was alone, I was having a baby, I needed help and he helped me. He is a friend, we made that very clear to each other. I wouldn't do that to you, he is your best friend and that would be very weird. Besides, I am done dating musicians. I want someone who will be here and not traveling the world every other month." I reply and he hums in question. "You didn't have a problem with touring when we were together." He states and I shrug my shoulders, undressing the baby to change his diaper. "You were a whole different thing. I would have gone through anything to be with you back then." I reply, looking at him now. "So, I guess, uh... We have to talk about the baby's schedule, how we are going to split taking care of him..." He says after a moment of silence in the room. "You know we will still have to run it with lawyers. We will need a custody agreement, just to ensure our rights..." I reply, pointing at the diaper changing kit on the other couch. He reaches for it while he nods, sinking the room in silence again. "I don't know how to do this. I never thought I would have to talk about parental rights with you. I never thought it would be necessary." He groans and I sigh, silently agreeing with him. "I never thought we would need to do that either. And I already told you, you don't need to do anything for us, no one is making you." I reply, biting the inside of my cheek. "No one is making me. I want to be part of this guy's life. I want to help you raise him, I want to give him a family, even if we are not together anymore." He states; my stomach hurts as I remember that he is with someone new, someone who's not me. "How is your girlfriend taking the news?" I ask, trying to push past the emotions that are rushing into me. "She is actually very understanding." He replies, making me feel even worse. "I am glad." I manage to mumble, biting my tongue to keep myself from screaming. "Me too." "So, I guess we need to talk about visitation and holidays and where he is going to live..." I list, dressing Ethan back on and swaddling him to help him relax. "For the first 2 months, he has to stay with you, right? So, I guess I will be coming over to see him and help around and take care of him while you rest. 3 times a week, I am thinking, so we can bond and you can rest. Then we talk about it again." He suggests. I put Ethan on the basin, getting up from the couch. "I'll be back in a minute. I need to go to the bathroom." I excuse myself, walking away from the living room.
I can't be in the same room as him right now... I can't talk about raising a baby with him, but actually without him, without feeling my throat close up and my heart being detached from my body. I lock myself in the bathroom, taking deep breaths as I try to calm myself down. I thought this would be easier now that he knows, I thought it would be easier, that he would actually help. And he is helping, just... His help is hurting me. I splash some water on my face, closing my eyes to brace myself for the next round. I know this should be done the way you rip a band-aid, get all the pain out now, and hopefully hurt less in the future.
"Are you ok?" He asks as I walk out. "I am... Just, I drink a lot of water to produce milk, so..." I try to joke, taking my seat on the couch. He chuckles, picking the basin and putting it on the other couch so we can be more comfortable. "Ok... So, are we ok with the 3 days plans?" "Yeah, sounds ok. But I plan on breastfeeding for more than 2 months, so, I guess it will have to be longer than that..." I state, leaning my head on the back of the couch. "It is fine. We will see as we go. What about the holidays? How do we split those up?" He asks me. "Well, we can always spend them together. I mean all of us, you, your girlfriend, Ethan, my boyfriend... Whoever is in our lives. Or we can just split them and switch them. One year, I take Christmas, you take New Year's, then I take Easter, you take Thanksgiving. And then the switch." I suggest and he smiles at me. "We can try both... But I like the idea of sharing holidays, one big family, it feels right." He states.
'It does? It fucking does? It feels right for you to share holidays with your new girlfriend, the woman you claimed was the love of your life and your son? It feels right?' I think to myself, biting my cheek to keep myself from screaming and bashing his head against the wall. "We can definitely try that..." I manage to say, swallowing my bitter words. "And I want to help financially, whatever you need." He says, making my blood boil in my veins. "I can take care of that myself. I have my maternity leave and then I am going to be working from home until he turns 2. But my paycheck will still roll in, and I am still making money, so you don't need to worry about your son starving to death or being left without a roof over his head." I snap, making him look at me bug-eyed. "I didn't mean to offend you." He stutters, backing away a little. "But you did. I told you, the plan was to raise him myself, all things considered... I considered the money, the change, the sacrifices I would have to make. I thought about all of that, not in the instance between finding out I am pregnant and deciding to keep it, but for the 6 months following that, I had to carry him inside me. So, if you think you get to barge in here and wave your money in my face, you are completely wrong." I whisper-shout, making him look at me with an apology written on his face. "(Y/N), I am sorry. I didn't mean to..." "I know. Get out... I am tired of this." I point at the door, getting up from the couch. "I am sorry..." He repeats as I still point at the door. "Get out, Ash. Go home. Drop by the day after tomorrow to see Ethan... Or not... Just, go home now." I plead, making him sigh and retreat.
"Have you talked to Ashton after getting out of the hospital?" Calum asks as he picks his godson up. "He came over yesterday... It was fine in the beginning, then he said the wrong things, irked me and we had a fight. I told him to leave and he did, he left. He might come over tomorrow, might not... I don't know. And I don't know if I care to know at this point." I reply, noting down the grocery list for Calum. "Why did you have a fight?" He asks me, turning to look at me with furrowed eyebrows. "He first said this thing about the holidays, how he would love for us to have joined holidays, with our partners and stuff, he said it would feel right. I didn't react to that, because I was stupid enough to actually suggested it, but he was stupid enough to actually think it is a great idea. And then he fucking said he wants to help financially, whatever we need, and I know it came from a good place and that it was very sweet of him to say, but it was the thing that made me snap." I hyperventilate making him put Ethan down and move to me, pat me on my shoulder. "Are you ok, darling? Do you need sleep?" He asks me and I shake my head at him. "I am not ok. He is with someone else, and I am here, hormonal, and having to raise a baby with him but actually without him. And he is still the love of my life, he is still the person I picture myself growing old with. And I can't... He is with someone else, someone who apparently is supportive of this." I admit, making him sigh and take a seat near me. "I can't do this, Cal... It hurts and it is hard." I sniffle, looking up to stop myself from crying. "I know, darling... I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. But he really cares about you and the baby. And eventually, you'll find someone else and you'll fall in love again, and the pain will subdue." He tries to soothe me, running his hand over the back of my hand. "It would have been a hundred times easier to just raise him by myself." I state and he scuffs. "You are saying that now that you are in the beginning. But you will be glad after a while. Let him help you, he seems to really want to." He suggests, smiling softly.
I learned to live with the fact that my baby's father is with someone else. It wasn't easy, I definitely had to suppress my feelings and make peace with them. And the fact that Sarah is actually a sweetheart helped a lot. I knock on Ashton's door, carrying Ethan in his baby carrier and his bag of baby stuff, to deliver him to his father for the night. "Hi... Come on in." Sarah says, moving from the door to let me in. I smile at her, walking in the house to let the carrier on the couch. "Hi, buddy. I missed you so much." Ashton cheers, picking the baby out of the carrier. "I packed formula for him this time. He needs his bath in 30 minutes, lavender wash to make him sleepy. Then bottle, lullaby, and bed. I've packed his giraffe, he likes to cuddle it, and helps him sleep better." I instruct and Ashton chuckles. "I got this, (Y/N). I've done this before." He assures me, bouncing the baby softly. "You look nice tonight." He compliments me, making me huff. "It's nothing. My friends set me up with someone and we are going out tonight..." I brush it off, running my hands down my dress to straighten any creases. "Oh, is it the first time you are going out with him?" Sarah asks me, taking the carrier from the couch. "Actually the third. He seems like a nice guy." I reply. I lean towards Ethan, pecking on his forehead softly. "Bye baby. Mommy loves you... I'll see you in the morning." I coo at the baby. "If you need anything, just call me." I say, earning a chuckle from Sarah. "We will be fine. Have fun." Ashton says coldly.
(Ashton's POV) "Ethan is asleep." Sarah states as she walks back into the living room. "Good." I mumble, pacing the living room. "Are you alright? You look a little tense." She asks me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I am fine." I twitch away, making her hum. "Well, it doesn't look like you are." She insists, making me scoff at her. "I said I am fine. Drop it." I groan, my voice getting a lot louder than it should. She backs away, looking at me shocked. "Bullshit. Ever since (Y/N) dropped Ethan, you've been cranky. What's wrong with you?" She asks, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Oh my God... You are jealous of her going on a date? Is that it?" She asks, gasping at the realization. "Don't be ridiculous... I am not jealous. I am furious. She is the mother of my child... What, she expects me to be fine with her going around dating random dudes? She expects me to be fine at the thought of her sleeping around with a stranger in the house my kid is growing up in?" I snap, pressing my temples.
She stares at me and chuckles, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "I don't think that's the issue here. And I really, really want to believe you, but I know you too well to fool myself... So, I think I am worth at least an explanation." She demands; she doesn't even sound mad at me, just plainly demanding. I sigh, nodding my head as I take a seat on the couch and pat the empty spot for her. "She was the love of my life. She still is. I don't remember the reason we broke up, I have tried recalling it but I can't. But I remember it felt final when we broke up. I don't even remember who said that it was over. And then I met you, and you were amazing, and I felt really good with you. And I thought, I thought I might have a chance to be happy with you, to build the thought of a future with you. When I saw her at Calum's house, the day Ethan was born, I thought (Y/N) and Calum had been sneaking together and he got her pregnant. And I was mad at them, at him for touching the love of my life, and her for sleeping with my best friend. But for a moment I was relieved because I had a reason to be mad at her and move on with my life. But I went to the hospital anyway, and Calum was silent and then I did the math. And the nurse got out and asked about the father and Cal looked at me and I knew, I knew he was mine. So I raised my hand and he showed me the baby. Who was my spitting image and he made my stomach fill with butterflies. I went to see (Y/N) after that and she looked so beautiful. She was the picture of the future I imagined. I told her we wouldn't be a couple again but I wanted to be part of the baby's life. And I was lying to her, I wanted to be in her life, I wanted to be with her. But I had you, and you made me happy, and you deserved better than that. And that's what I wanted to give you. And then I went to her house to talk about how we are going to co-parent, and she suggested this stupid thing about joined holidays and I thought that's the only way to spend holidays with her so I said I would love that... And when I was at her house to look after the baby, I spent my time looking at her sleep, because I always loved looking at her sleep. So I fell in love with her all over again. It's not that I have ever fallen out of love with her, but... It felt fresh. But you, you were sweet and supportive and amazing. And I stayed with you because I really knew she would think I wanted to be with her just for the baby. I love you, I really do... But she is always going to be the love of my life. And I will always hate the thought of her with anyone but me." I admit, finally letting it all out.
She is crying, looking at me with so much pain. "I love you' shouldn't come with a 'but' after. And being with me shouldn't feel like a sacrifice. I deserve better than that. And it hurts me to say that, but it is over, Ashton. I can't go on knowing I will never be enough for you. You should go tell her what you told me, at least me leaving you will have a meaning. And don't worry, I am not pregnant or anything, I won't come back with a baby to rock your world. I got my period on Tuesday. I love you, Ashton. And I love myself more than settling to be your second choice always. I am leaving." She stands up from the couch wiping away her tears. "I wish I could give you more, I wish I could beg you to stay..." I begin but she stops me. "But you don't want me to." She smiles bitterly, picking up her purse and jacket.
I walk to the baby's room, leaving the lights turned off as I tiptoe over to his crib. I look inside, finding my son cuddling his stuffed animal as he sleeps peacefully. I smile at him, admiring how innocent he looks right now. "Do you think mommy will take me back? Do you think I have a chance?" I ask the sleeping baby, hoping for a sign. He just keeps sleeping, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.
The knock on my door makes me run to open it. I know it is her, and I can't wait to see her. "Hi..." I greet her with a smile. She smiles back, pointing to the inside of the house. "Can I come in?" She asks and I move aside, letting her walk in. "I made breakfast. Do you have a minute to talk?" I ask, gesturing her towards the table. "Sure. What do you want to talk about? Did you finally propose to Sarah?" She asks with a chuckle. "Actually, she left me..." I reply, scratching the back of my head. "I am so sorry. What happened?" She asks me, taking a seat at the table. "I told her you are always going to be the love of my life." I state, sitting across from her. "You did what? Why would you do that?" She asks me, eyes going wide. "Because you are. You are the love of my life and I knew that for so long. I suffered, trying to keep away from you, and I just can't do it anymore. I got so jealous that you were going out with someone who is not me, it made me sick... I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you to see me with someone else. Just at the thought of someone else giving you what I should be giving you, I lost my mind. And she demanded, she demanded to know what was wrong with me. And I told her everything because she deserved to know. I told her how you are always going to be the love of my life, how I have no memory of why you and I broke up, how I fell in love with you all over again while I was coming over for the baby. And how I only wanted to do joined holidays because that would mean I would get to spend them with you. I can't lie anymore, (Y/N). It kills me that we are not together anymore, it kills me not being with the love of my life. And I know you think I am only saying that because of Ethan, but I really don't want to spend one more day of my life without you. I love you, with my whole entire body, with my whole entire existence." I admit, looking her in the eye. "I don't know what to say." She replies, looking at the mug in front of her. "I love you. Please, give us another chance. Not for the sake of our son, but for the sake of our happiness. I want to be happy with you. And I want you to be happy with me. I love you, you are the love of my life." I say confidently, giving her a moment of silence. "I love you. And it feels so refreshing to finally let it out. I can't believe I am saying it again, I didn't think I would. I was so mad at you, so mad for moving on after me." She begins, breaking out in cries. "I love you. Hey, hey... I love you." I rush to her, kneeling in front of her chair. "I don't want to be without you. I don't want to be with anyone else but you." She sobs, holding my face in her hands. "You don't have to. You and I, we are together... I am not letting you slip away from me again. I love you, my heart is yours." I assure her, turning my face a little to kiss her hand. "Where is Ethan?" She asks with a sniffle. "With the world's greatest babysitter... Calum has him upstairs..." I reply, making her chuckle. "Are you going to kiss me? Because you really should." She asks me, making me chuckle at her as I pull her and myself on our feet. I pull her by her waist, grazing her cheek with my thumb before I lean in and kiss her softly.
My Masterlist /  Unexpected
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rotationalsymmetry · 3 years
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Discourse. About queer stuff. Ok?
“I just don’t think cishet aces are queer” that’s because you just framed this as “queer“ and “cishet” being opposites. It’s exactly the same pattern as “I just don’t think straight trans people are queer” (you do get why that’s a problem, right?)
”bi lesbians…” you don’t have to understand why other people are calling themselves a thing to figure they know their identity better than you.
(Also…shut up? I fucking hate it how I’m fucking schrodinger’s lesbian in that my wlw fic is “lesbian” and a female TV character who’s previously been in relationships with men and is now with a woman is “lesbian representation” and two women who are together are “in a lesbian relationship” but heaven help me if I, a woman loving woman in a relationship with a man, actually call myself a lesbian. FFS if bi women are by definition lesbians we should be able to just call ourselves that, and if we’re not then maybe back off on this “lesbian couple” stuff where you don’t know how either person ID’s? Like, you can have a word that means “100% definitely not into men” and a word that means “interested in women”, but when you want them to be the same word that causes a lot of problems for women who are interested in women but not 100% definitely not into men.)
”these non-binary identities/neopronouns are confusing people” they sure are, where are you going with this exactly? People who want to be confused will be confused by two gender conforming men calmly holding hands. We don’t allow people into the queer club based on what’s minimally confusing.
“Trans women are more oppressed than trans men, therefor...” No. We stand in solidarity with each other. We don’t decide some part of the community is less worthy of support because they’re “less oppressed” like that’s a fucking thing you can even measure. Trans women are oppressed a lot. Trans men are oppressed a lot. It’s good that there’s a lot of awareness about how trans women are oppressed, as trans women deserve safety and support. If you’re using trans women’s suffering to deny support to trans men in place of supporting trans women you are an asshole. We’re all in this together.
(There’s pushback against this concept by pointing out oppression against trans men and I’m not like against that or anything, it’s important to recognize oppression, it’s just it’s also important to recognize we don’t gatekeep based on perceived levels of oppression. as a moral statement. when we do, in practice, it tends to hurt trans women a lot. (Heh, I put this in past tense at first, don’t know what I was thinking, this is super present tense.) I don’t think anyone arguing that trans men don’t deserve any/as much support are actually in any way on the side of trans women.)
(See also “but some bi people have straight passing privilege” or whatever.)
”trans men have male privilege“ — where exactly are you trying to go with this? I’ve seen arguments against it but I frankly don’t get the point. Trans people experience oppression for being trans. Oppression and privilege are complicated, intersecting things. It’s pretty common for people to have privilege in some ways and experience oppression in others. What I mean is: if sometimes a trans man gets interrupted less often or whatever post transition that sounds like male privilege to me…but it doesn’t negate things like being misgendered at the doctor’s or years of being interrupted more pre-transition or difficultly paying for transition or that “do I come out as trans when looking for a job, or does my work history have a mysterious gap from the time before” problem or any other trans problem, ok?
Kinda suspect the trans women/trans men privilege discourse is largely fabricated to interfere with trans solidarity. But I guess a lot of it could just be “well, someone’s got to be basically the same as cis men, right?” garden variety intellectual laziness. Women have issues that you can’t infer by looking at cis men’s needs. Disabled people have issues that you aren’t going to work out by looking at abled people. You can’t figure out what oppression trans people experience by generalizing from cis people.
It’s just that trans oppression intersects with gendered oppression in a really unique way. It’s its own thing. You’re not going to get it by reducing trans experiences to something you’re more familiar with.
like I guess this is coming out of “well, cis men often don’t accept that they’re privileged“ ok there’s you’re problem. Stop fucking arguing with privileged people about whether they’re privileged. work with other marginalized people, and with privileged people who are already on board, for named tangible goals. Or if you’re doing outreach and education do stuff that’s likely to work? some people aren’t going to get it. Rigidly insisting that A is A over and over isn’t actually a terribly effective way of persuading people, and fighting for our rights doesnt look like finding random people to disagree vehemently with. That’s the sort of thing that feels like it’s doing something but it’s not.
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benkouji726 · 4 years
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So I wrote my 5+1 Forlex fic, as I was saying earlier. I really lack impulse control when it comes to rnm, sigh.
Jealous Guerin may have some appearances in this fic too, but it’s eventually Forlex. 
This is the first part of it. I will try to update it daily, before I lose my nerves.
Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t
1.
It was supposed to be some harmless fun, at first.
Forrest was intuitive, to put it mildly. You didn’t grow up in a Long household and become this well-liked and popular family member by being dense, especially when you were gay. Besides, his gut feeling had saved him more times than he could count in battles, it was one of the reasons his buddies trusted him with their lives.
He was very good at reading people and situations around or between them. He didn’t always care what people thought of him, of others or of themselves, but he noticed all the same and would efficiently use that information to his advantage. Call it his people skills, but it was how he managed to live through his rebellious youth period, his military years, and now his adult life in a backwards town like Roswell, while never stopped being his colorful-haired, emo-poetry-writing, 20 pounds of personality in a 5 pound pocket-sized body self.
So he had known there was something between Alex and Alien Guy even when they first met at the Long farm. As they talked, it was like there were only them in the whole world. The air seemed thicker and more tangible, the atmosphere charged. Then at the diner, Forrest noticed the meaningful glance Alien Guy shot his way. When Alex sang that song, Guerin walked in and they seemed to have some soul searching conversations through their eyes only, well, it was really not that hard a guess who the song was for. And frankly, Alex needed to work on his poker face a LOT if he was ever gonna sell that obvious “it was a long time ago” lie.
But at the time, it hadn’t really mattered. Whatever it was between them, it seemed neither of them was going to make a move. And Alex was so hot sometimes he wondered how the hell he remained single in the first place, but he WAS single, and a smart guy like Forrest was never gonna miss out a perfectly good opportunity to make out with a hot guy and have some fun time with him.
It was supposed to be just like that, some fun, some company, some glorious make out sessions. Nothing heavy or potential heartbreak or anything.
Which was probably why he didn’t even realize he was falling for Alex until it was a bit of too late.
They were dating for two months at that point. Forrest had met almost all of Alex’s friends and family members (the ones who counted as friends and family in Alex’s book anyway), minus Michael Guerin. And Forrest had won them over one by one. He once overheard Liz call him “charming, funny, honest and loyal to a fault”, to a reluctant Isobel Evans, who had been giving him stink eyes ever since he and Alex had gone out, but in their last get-together thingy (Forrest honestly didn’t know how to call these, because they were irregular as fuck, both in schedule and in attending member counts), Isobel joined him at the bar when he was getting them the last round, considered him for a second, patted him on his shoulder without looking at him and said in a small but genuine voice: “You are not half bad”. So Forrest would call it a win.
In hindsight, it should have been his first warning sign that he cared so much of what Alex’s friends think of him. But in his defense, Alex was most at ease when he was with his friends, which meant he would always be sweet, adorable, sometimes sassy, sometimes soft, and had the unique sense of humor in a deadpan way, and Forrest was too busy being charmed to notice it.
So when his platoon buddies, Tony and Chris, came into town to visit him and he brought Alex to have a beer together, he was so caught off guard when Alex went to bathroom and Tony said:
“Man, you’re so gone on him, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t even a question.
Forrest spluttered, red faced, and said, eloquently: “uh, what?”
Tony and Chris changed a look, both amused. “You’ve been staring at him all night, Long. You look at him as if he hung the moon. You can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, not to be PDA or something, but little touches, I think you didn’t even notice. He made a joke earlier, granted, it WAS hilarious, but the way you laughed, like you think he is the most funny guy in the whole world, which, no offense, is really not the case.”
Tony drank some water after his long ass bullshit, and Chris went in for a final blow. “So in conclusion, you’ve had it bad, dude, like, we’ve-never-seen-you-like-this level bad.”
Forrest was dumbstruck at that. He must’ve seemed like a dumbass too, because they decided to take pity on him, and changed the subject.
“Anyway, you know we’ve been relocated to the nearby base, Tobias and Leo are near enough too. The others all cashed in some long-overdue vacation days so we can have a little get together for our platoon in Santa Fe next month. You should come too.”
OK, that was exciting news. He missed his buddies and would be very happy to spend some time with them.
But Tony hesitated a little before continued: “There is a catch though. We thought it would be nice that we all bring our significant others, or even our children. So it would be a more family style setting. It may not be your thing.”
The thing was, it would totally be Forrest’s thing. He just didn’t know how to say it. With his platoon buddies, he always seemed like the free spirited lone wolf, easygoing, open and honest, but never the one to talk about family issues or kids problems with. But he would enjoy being surrounded by family love and loud but innocent kids, so he opened his mouth to just say that when he was interrupted by a light laugh.
“What are you guys talking about, family and kids and platoon buddies all under the same roof? It’s totally his thing.”
Forrest was startled, both by Alex’s sudden reappearance and his seemingly psychic ability to read his mind. When he remained silent a second too long, Alex apologized.
“Sorry, did I overstep? You actually don’t want to go or...?”
“No! I mean, yes, I wanna go. I just, something they said earlier, it was a lot to unpack. But you are right, I would love to go.” Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie.
Alex didn’t seem to buy it, but he was kind enough to drop it at the time.
On their drive home though, Alex picked it up again, as Alex would do, because he was a stubborn son of bitch like that.
“You wanna talk about what happened earlier?”
Forrest sighed. Best to just cut to the chase.
“Why did you say it was totally my thing? We didn’t often talk about family and kids, if any.”
Alex frowned, “No, we didn’t normally talk about that stuff. But it’s obvious you like family energy and friendly gatherings, isn’t it? Am I not supposed to know that?”
“But how? I served with my buddies for a long time, we trust each other with our lives. But almost none of them know it.”
“Forrest”, Alex smiled, “you like almost all of your family members, stay friends with a lot of them, despite some of them are real assholes. You even like hanging out with my friends and family too, not just because we are dating, but because you love being around people who give you warm family-like feelings. You organize every open mic night at the pony, and are genuinely interested in the acts and the people behind them, you like to talk to them about their lives and their relationships. You volunteer at the youth shelter. You are, simply put, a people person. You like people, you see good in them, you want to be around them and be a positive influence for them. You don’t necessarily tolerate stupid bigots, and you would be the first to call out their cowardice, but if they are willing to change and be better, you would want to believe in them too.”
He exhaled, oblivious of Forrest’s stunned expression, and continued.
“For a man who has that big a heart, I’d imagine spending some time with his buddies and their families would totally be his thing, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, but...”
“And there’s also your poetry.”
Forrest was getting whiplash tonight, he could hardly keep up.
“My poetry?”
“Yeah, you gave me your emo poetry journal the other day and asked for my opinion?”
“I remember that. In fact, I remember it was a week ago and I still haven’t got any feedback yet.” If he was being honest, he would say he had been a little hurt by that too.
Alex’s face turned a shade pink. “I know I was being a little slow. But I just want to do them justice, you know? I’ve been reading each of them multiple times, so I can get the gist right.”
OK, hurt instantly healed. He really should be concerned how Alex’s words could so easily affect his mood.
“Anyway, the poems you wrote, they are all very pro-humanity, at least in my opinion. Like, the themes vary, some about personal journeys, some about lost love, some about struggling life, some about anger and pain. But the words have something like warmth attached to them, like despite all, there’s hope, and there’s good, in people, in humanity, in the whole world.”
He looked down at his hands then, voice quiet.
“And that’s the thing I like most about you.”
Shit.
“Shit”, It was definitely too soon, but Forrest just can’t not say it. “I think I might be falling for you.”
Alex looked at him right then, hesitated then determined: “I don’t think I’m there yet. But I think I could see myself heading down that road someday.”
He added in a more unsure voice: “Is that OK?”
Forrest reached out, squeezed his hand, and reassured him: “It’s OK”.
And it really was.
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daincrediblegg · 4 years
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Can you please feed us some GORGEOUS Gen x Arthur hc's ????? Because we love you and we love Arthur and we stan our OTP. Please and thanks xp [I got'chu, boo
Genevieve x Arthur Fleck Headcanons
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lmao LMAO LMAO ok so... idk what this is??? this is just how we are irl. ain’t no real scenario around it, but it still serves as a basic breakdown of our relationship as it’s unfolded the last 7 months or so. Thank you for giving me a platform to share this lmao. Sorry if it’s cringey and personal as hell, but hey, that’s life, and y’all know I don’t give a fuck by now.
We met in October. I’d snuck into a showing of Joker with my dad after the premier of Zombieland 2, and watched his story unfold. I couldn’t get him out of my head the whole night. I saw him again a little less than a week later, and I’d realized I’d wanted more. We’d agreed to meet for coffee the next day.
The next couple of weeks was just pure fascination with each other. I poured my heart into learning everything about him, and he seemed so genuinely interested in learning all he could about me too. 
Even though I was going through what’s easily been one of the most harrowing mental health crises that I’ve ever experienced… he fell quick for me, and hard. And I did too. He… he made me feel like I wasn’t alone. We were leading very similar lives (minus, y’know, murder- on my end), and knowing that he felt my pain when it seemed like not a whole lot of people really did… it made me feel seen. And it didn’t take long for things to get really heated. We’ve been together ever since.
He’s the one that got me to start taking my medication. I’d never been on antidepressants, and I was a little scared of the side-affects since the only other ones I’d tried made me dizzy and out of breath (and I’m a massive hypochondriac on top of all the other shit I’ve got going on in my head). But he convinced me that I was worth living for, and that was the little push I needed. I knew I wanted to get better, but he’d convinced me that I could. 
I drew him a lot those first few months we were together. His physicality still entrances me to this day. His elegance, yet this almost distinctly cartoonish poise and his innocence… he inspired me a lot. More than I had been in months. He’s shy about being the subject of a lot of my drawings… but he lets me anyway because he’s amazed at how it shows how I see him (which is fucking beautiful, like a disney prince thank you very much). 
We spent a lot of those first few months just lying in bed after a long day of writing and drawing, holding each other close and talking. About everything. It all felt so freeing to me that I could say just about anything to him and have him actually listen without judgement. And sure, he has his opinions, but he doesn’t dismiss mine.  
We did so much together too. We used to go to movies (not just his lmao), we got hot chocolates together and walked around town during christmas time.
For Christmas he gave me a beautiful necklace- a pretty blue/green pendant on a gold chain (that y’all might’ve seen in some of my selfies- and I wear it DAILY) and a silver bracelet with little red roses and garnets on it. They’re some of the best presents I’ve ever gotten. 
I gave him a scarf (that I’d worn out to work for weeks so that it’d smell like me at his request) and some chocolate.
I was also dealing with quite a few health problems those first few months, so he’s well versed in all my medical bullshit lmao.
I’ve got a weird bladder that just constantly feels infected (even though it’s actually not most of the time), which means that we can’t have penetrative sex sometimes (but we’re just as happy to touch each other in different ways even when I can’t stand to go all the way).
I was still having some panic attacks when I was on a higher dosage of my medication, and he’s very good at bringing me down from them. He holds me close and tells me to breathe slowly and deeply with him until I calm down and start to feel okay- even when I get super fidget-y from it. I can’t begin to thank him enough for helping me through it all as he has.
We don’t argue much. We see eye-to-eye where it counts, so we hardly ever get into moral disputes. But when we do it’s usually when I’m in a depressive rut and I’ve gone distant. He’s never raised his voice at me when it happens, but some heated conversations have spawned from it. And I’ll admit I’m not the most eloquent with these things sometimes. And I’ve said things that I didn’t mean to hurt him but just to say with honesty. He knows I have doubts sometimes. He does too, but we’ve been able to work through them well enough-better than most I imagine.
We uh… we have a lot of sex. No surprise.
We’re virgins (well, technically. At least with the opposite sex). We’re horny. We’ve got high sex drives and we’re not afraid to take it out on each other.
I’ve had a lot of body anxiety in the past, but with Arthur it feels even more non-existent than it’s ever been. He really loves my body. Not in a fetish-y way like a lot of guys have hinted at in the past. When I’m with him I really feel like his desire for me comes from love, that my body isn’t just a thing to get him off, but rather that he desires me for who and what I am, and I haven’t really ever felt that even with any of the other FICTIONAL guys I’ve been with before.
And he knows that I love him just the same. Body and soul. It’s a total two-way street. And we never feel the need to change for each other one bit. For that I’m so grateful god I could fucking cry.
And it’s made me do a lot of things that I kinda didn’t want or thought were inaccessible to me before I met him. I fucking wear lacy bras and matching panties (for the first time in my life!!!) on the reg because Arthur said that I deserved to have them if I wanted them (not to mention that I look beautiful in them to him), and now I’m coming around to the idea of putting on a little makeup ‘cause it makes me feel really pretty and Arthur agrees???? Like this MAN has really made me flourish for the better tbh I love him so fucking much. 
Before the pandemic he used to meet me at my regular haunt to watch me work after his gig for the day. He’d sit across from me and watch me fumble around with all my outlines and notes, sometimes taking out his own journal himself while he steals some of my coffee, taking my hand and running a thumb over it idly.
He really enjoys my screenwriting. My writing is very exciting, he says. He’s really supportive of my career choice, even though it’s still a long ways off from being anything tangible or serious. And he’s very supportive of the things I’ve written about him too. He doesn’t mind as long as some things get to stay just between us (and by and large he says I’ve done a pretty good job of that lmao). 
I sing for him a lot. We dance together too. I’ve always been a singer for as long as I can remember but being so depressed so long I didn’t really as much as I’d have liked. But for him I sing just about every day. Lotta swing-jazz numbers like from Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby and Caro Emerald. Some classic rock like Elton John and Billy Joel and Jethro Tull. He says he likes the way I sing their songs the best. Idk if I agree with him, but I believe him. 
He says we’re a dynamic duo in a way. Like since he dances and I sing, we’re a complete show. It’s the cutest fucking shit he’s ever said to me 
We kind of agreed to get married once the lockdown’s over. Neither of us really proposed to the other, exactly. We had been thinking about it for months (we’ve been talking about it since Christmas lmao- he’s said he wants to marry me so many times), but the first few weeks of this lockdown thing were really hard on me. It all felt very harrowing with everything changing all at once. 
And it was really touch-and-go for us. It was harder for me to feel him. And sure it had been hard before but it was… not quite as bad as this was. I almost thought we were done. 
But he stuck around, and helped me through it as much as he could despite how numb I was feeling. And he was still there when the dust settled, even stronger than before. So I told him one morning that I wanted to get married when all of this was over, and he agreed. 
So once the shelter in place order is lifted, we’re gonna go to the same jewlery shop he got me my favorite necklace, and pick out some rings. I for one am very excited.
And until then we’re perfectly content to enjoy this break from our normal everyday lives with each other. Even though it’s been harder for me to write we’re pulling through this whole thing just fine. 
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If you don't mind going into detail, I'd love to hear why you dislike Starlight. I didn't watch her episodes besides her first appearance, so I don't have a strong opinion. She does come off as Twilight 2.0 and kinda OP from what I've seen though. I mean, she oneshot Discord in a fight. Yeah he came back 10 minutes later, but that seems extremely strong for a unicorn
Ok so here's my official Starlight hate post I guess. Long post warning ahead
REASONS I'M NOT VERY FOND OF STARLIGHT:
ONE: I actually didn't hate her as a villain. Like, she wasn't my favorite but I didn't hate her and then- we find out the reason that she is an ACTUAL CULT LEADER (and like I know people compared her more to a communist which if you're not thinking too hard the equal sign makes it seem like that, but her actual actions parallel a cult more) and the fact that she literally tried to erase a whole ass timeline is because her friend had to move away??? Like really??? It was...very bad. Kind of a shame, because with better writers a cultist villain could have been a lot more interesting. In fact, her premiere episode on it's own was,,,fine, and if Starlight was simply defeated and never showed up again I wouldn't have a problem with her.
I'm actually gonna go on a side rant here because I really reaally REALLY hate how they made a villain like Starlight and redeemed her. The fact that her actions as a villain so closely resemble a cultist on its own wouldn't be an issue, *but then they had the audacity to act like her being sad MATTERS when she destroyed people's lives in a much more realistic, much more uncomfortable way than guy who wanted to take over world lol and fucking redeemed her* Can I just say how discomforting it is when people write redemptions like that? Watching the pony villain equivalent of somebody who's committed horrible acts of abuse and indoctrination to others get redeemed is UNCOMFORTABLE. IT'S VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. DO NOT LIKE.
TWO: She feeeels sad and that's enough for her to be labelled Deserves Sympathy And Redemption. See, this on it's own wouldn't be as big a deal if...again, she wasn't made to parallel real world bad people? Like, if Starlight was just a run of the mill dickwad in charge of the town doing run of the mill dickwad things, we'd be having an entirely different discussion. OR if she wasn't the cult LEADER, but a member of the cult who was groomed to fully believe in it, and slowly had to be unindoctrinated. But, as it stands, no.
THREE: Her power level. In the premiere, Starlight in shown to be a stronger than the average unicorn with some niche knowledge that's helpful to her. In the finale and onwards, she's...on the same power level as Twilight, an alicorn princess who's main field of study is magic itself. This is kind of an issue in power scaling that the show has had in general, but it was compounded onto Starlight in a very intense way in which she's basically always the strongest person in the room, hooray Starlight! (And despite the fact that Discord being blasted was intended by the writer to be Discord letting Starlight hurt him, you can kind of see it with him winking, that scene wasn't very obvious about it and made it look like Discord, literally the most OP character in the whole show, was suddenly less powerful than Starlight? Lmfao ok.)
FOUR: Starlight always has to be the strongest, smartest creature in the room. You remember the season six finale where Starlight was labelled leader (despite the fact that she really shouldn't have been, hot take I guess.) of everybody and also she was the only person who ever had any ideas and also all of her ideas worked basically, and she figured out the Plot Weapon of the day? That happens in the show far too often, and it's boring. Plus the fact that it too often stupidifies other characters in order to make her look better, makes me very annoyed!
FIVE: Her personality consists of, feels bad, anxiety, and being the best all the time. I'm bored just thinking about it quite frankly. It is absolutely not fun watching Pony Cult Leader remind me she was a cult leader and also how bad she feels about it! I don't care!
SIX: The show acts like she's super amazeballs at friendship, and she's not. (Also, the whole...friendship as some sort of tangible skill you can achieve and Be The Best At instead of just learning interpersonal skills? No thanks fam.) Like...Starlight should not have been a guidance counselor, one, because being The Good Friend ABSOLUTELY does not make you qualified for responsibility of the mental health of actual children, two, even if it did, she's not that amazing at being the Good Friend! She...still does a lot of shitty things. Or before that, when she got a """friendship medal""" for saving Equestria and suddenly deemed a Friendship Master? WHAT?! Those things have ZERO CORRELATION. Very bad.
SEVEN: the fact that she'll get treated better than other reformed villains (cough cough Discord) by everybody around her despite...also doing shitty things is really annoying and a huge double standard! Stop that!
THINGS THAT ON THEIR OWN I WOULDN'T CARE ABOUT BUT SINCE I'M ALREADY NOT FOND OF HER JUST ANNOY ME:
-She's rich. Eat the rich.
-I'm actually not fond of her design. It's not the worst...but I don't love it...
-The fact that she's another Twilight clone not clone like with Sunset. Especially because they kept making jokes about how Starlight and Twilight are so similar haha! Like,,,god just stop it's so boring.
I uh. I think that's it. Maybe.
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imagineredwood · 4 years
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Request: Quinn has a talk with his 19 year old daughter falling in love with 30 year old Emily Duncan. And then having a talk with Emily.
Warnings: Talk that could be seen as slut shaming
Word count: 1.3k
“I just don’t see the problem. Out of all the shit you’ve done in your life, out of all the things I could’ve done, all the mistakes I could’ve made, this is what’s making you blow your top? That I’m seeing someone more than 10 years older than me?”
Quinn sighed and roughly ran his hand over his face, his frustration and exhaustion tangible.
“It is more than just that. It’s the age, it’s the way that she is, it’s the circumstances. It’s everything. She’s a grown woman, you have no business getting caught up with her. I’ve already spoken to Jax about her, she’s bad news. What makes you think that after all these years of hoppin’ around, she’s suddenly gonna settle down and have a fairytale life with you?”
Quinn’s voice got more and more rough as he spoke, his effort to conceal his anger not working.
“She’s a grown woman and she can sleep with who she wants, lord knows she has, but that doesn’t mean that I want her messing around with my kid. Especially when I know that whatever happily ever after story you have worked out in your head ain’t gonna happen.”
The Son took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He watched as you swallowed dryly, not liking what you were hearing but staying quiet anyway. He appreciated the face and leaned forward, folding his hands together in front of him, both resting on the top of the table.
“I know you mean well. You like her, you’re falling for her and you want to be happy with her. But I’m telling you, it won't work. You’re young and dumb and you think you know everything. You think you're invincible and that you have all the answers and that only other people get used and tossed away until it happens to you. I don’t want that for anyone, much less you. I love you.”
You nodded then and stayed quiet looking down at the table yourself, avoiding his eyes. You understood where he was coming from. You understood his hesitation and apprehension, but you felt like you knew Emily well enough that you wouldn’t be subjected to that. You weren’t expecting to shack up and het married or anything, but you did want to have a relationship with her and not having your father’s support was weighing on you. You sighed yourself and looked back up to find his eyes already on you, both frustration and disappointment laced in his gaze. He stayed looking at you for a while, eyes tracing over you, reading you before he groaned and sat back in his chair.
“I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna talk to her,”
He held up his hand quickly to silence you and you did, knowing he was absolutely not in the mood.
“I’m gonna talk to her and see where she’s at. I already know this won’t work and that you’re gonna end up getting hurt but you’re an adult now and I can’t protect you from the world. You’re gonna just have to learn the hard way. My job and goal as a father is to make sure you don’t get hurt, but I can’t force you to listen. So, I’m gonna talk to her, like I would any other person you were with. Just remember that when things go south, I won’t have you in that clubhouse stirring up shit, you hear me?”
You nodded solemnly and held your hands up in reluctance, making him give a soft huff. He stood from the table and grabbed his empty breakfast plate, heading into the kitchen.
“Hey, Quinn.”
He gave no reaction to the sultriness of her voice, simply pointing to the chair that was beside his at the bar.
“What’s going on?”
“I wanted to talk to you about my kid.”
Her persona dropped then and so did her smile, an almost nervous look coming over her.
“What about her?”
Quinn tilted his head side to side as he looked at the blonde.
“I want to make sure that her heart is going to be safe with you. I want to make sure that whatever you two are doing, whatever you have, that it’s real. She’s a good kid. She’s young and new to life and naïve and I want to make sure that she’s going to be safe with you. More importantly that her heart will be safe with you.”
Emily nodded, used to having these talks already. She had been on the receiving end of a number of them when people younger than her started falling for her and their loved ones wanted to make sure they would be ok. It got old sometimes sure, but that was the life of being a Croweater. Sometimes people never trusted her or gave her the credit she deserved simply because of what she did. This time was no exception, though the circumstances themselves were very much a new thing. She had never gotten with the child of a Son before, considering it somewhat taboo but she had met you at a club party one night and had sat to talk with you and get to know you. The rest had been history. Now the both of you had some weird relationship that you tried to keep hidden and under wraps, worried about how it would be viewed. You both knew it was far from traditional, but what was normal in this life of yours anyway? With a sigh, Emily ran her hands over the fabric of her jeans on her thighs, think about what she was saying before she said it.
“I know you don’t really trust me because you don’t really know me. You only know what you’ve been told, and I’m sure that there wasn’t an abundance of positive things people had to say about me. But I do care for your daughter, and I love her, and I love being with her. She’s a great person, someone who understands me and listens to me without judgment. She makes me happy and makes me feel like I have someone to really belong to. I only want to give that back to her.”
She paused and let her words sink in, some of the tension that had been in Quinn’s shoulders at the beginning now alleviating slowly as he looked at the woman, not having seen this side of her.
“She’s an adult and she can do what she wants ultimately, and she will. We both know her well enough to know that, but she would like to know that she had your approval. Knowing that you support her in her relationship, even if you don’t particularly like me, would mean a lot to her. She just wants to know that her dad is on her side.”
Quinn nodded as he listened to the Croweater, taking in what she said and compartmentalizing it. He thought about how she was right and having his support had always been something that his daughter wanted. He nodded to himself then and took a deep breath before letting it out.
“I still don’t like it, I won’t lie, but I’m willing to try and give you two a chance. She’s my daughter and I don’t ever want her hurt. I haven’t accepted her being treated badly by anyone before, and I’m not going to accept it now. I want you to know that.”
Quinn kept his voice low and level, not trying to intimidate her but wanting to make sure that she understood how serious he felt about this. Emily nodded and smiled, knowing that you would be thankful for his support, no matter how on the edge it may have been. She stood and so did Quinn, giving her a tight smile and walking away, blowing out a breath and shaking his head as Jax came into view shaking his head as well.
“You’re a better dad than I am, I wouldn’t let Abel near her no matter what when he was 19.”
Quinn winced and readjusted his beanie.
“The things we do for our children.”
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arotaro · 5 years
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Hey, I wanted to post sort of my Official Stance™ on this ridiculous new allo aro discourse. After talking it out with a few lovely aroace friends of mine, I’ve come to realize that a lot of the problems are a result of miscommunication. I am directing this post at aroaces with the hopes of helping to clear up confusion and hurt feelings. This may include topics that are sensitive to you. Rest assured that I mean no ill will, and if you want to help stop community infighting, I really recommend you try to read this. Please try to set aside your emotions and listen. I will do my part to try not to speak in anger.
As an allo aro who has kinda been at the forefront of this whole shebang, I’m going to try to break it down as simply as I can, from what I understand. In a nutshell:
Allo aros often feel excluded and pushed to the edges of the community, because of the fact that the aro community sort of grew from the ace community and has yet to pass that “baby’s first steps outside” phase. Aro is often taken to mean aroace by default, aro representation as a whole is often conflated with aroace representation, and many aro events- although it is important to recognize our shared history with the ace community- cling to this too much, making them aroace events first, aro events second, despite disclaimers that allo aros are welcome too.
This obviously is not terribly inclusive towards us, especially those of us who may have been personally hurt by the ace community.
Many allo aros are particularly upset that the Carnival of Aros, a big event meant to be for the whole aro community, started off with a theme about relations between the aro community and the ace community. Once again this puts aroaces in the spotlight, and made many of us allo aros who have been hurt by the ace community feel very shut out, as we don’t feel comfortable being honest about our opinions on the matter. When this caused obvious backlash, TAAAP, the organizers of the carnival, primarily responded not with “You’re right, we messed up, and we’re sorry. We’ll try to do better in the future,” but with justifications as to why they felt it was ok to hurt us. And, often, when we say this isn’t good enough, supporters of the carnival take this as an excuse to tell us we have no right to complain. (I’ve also been told that apparently, this issue was predicted and brought up to the organizers before the event even started, and they basically elected to ignore that critique, so... 🤔 But that’s a story for another day.)
Essentially, what most allo aros want right now is just more representation and acknowledgement. Many of us have begun calling for a separation of the aro community from the ace community- Meaning, we want the aro community to truly be the aro community first, aro-(insert sexual orientation here) community second, with no specific group getting more focus or prioritization over others. We just want to stop being considered second class aros.
However, many aroaces seem to be taking this to mean that:
We hate all aces. (That’d be like saying every time we complain about allos, that we hate all alloromantics. Not true!)
We hate you, specifically, as an individual.
We want to completely excommunicate asexuals, and make it so that nobody can ever talk about being ace in the aro community.
We want to separate from the aro community because we hate aroaces, or we want to kick aroaces out of the community (see previous points).
None of these things are true! All we want is equal prioritization. Saying that we want to exclude aroaces by calling for a separation from the ace community is like saying that separation of church and state means no government officials can ever have religions, or talk about those religions. Believe me when I say: the last thing we want to do is divide the aro community. It’s small enough as it is. We’re the ones upset about being excluded, it’d hardly make sense to react to this with a decision to exclude others instead.
However, because this is the way many aroaces are interpreting our discussions, it’s led to some painful backlash against us. We are often told that we’re being unfair to aroaces, that we’re dividing the community, hurting others, etc., or worse- that we owe the ace community, that we would be nowhere without them, that we should be thanking all aroaces for our very existence. That we owe the ace community, the community that has hurt many of us, a tangible debt. It’s basically become impossible to talk about allo aro issues without someone coming along to say, “Not all aces, you bigots!” 
Because of the way aroaces often respond to our discussions, many of us feel silenced. We feel that it’s not ok for us to talk about our feelings or our needs as a community with other aros, be it because of a simple “aroaces will get mad about it”, or either due to genuine guilt because, yes, believe it or not we do care about our aroace friends and we genuinely don’t want to hurt anyone. This feeling of not being able to talk freely has led to discussion of creating separate allo aro spaces where we can do so, but this is a problem because a. talking among ourselves about problems we face in the greater community will do no good, we need aroaces to listen, and b. this often results in us being told we’re dividing the community, which loops right back around to start the whole process over again.
Whether intentional or not, aroaces have always been at the forefront of the aro community. You have the loudest voices. This is not at all to say that aroaces are privileged! We both face different issues, but they’re all very real and very unfortunate, and we should be working together to help each other solve them. However, many of the most influential aro blogs are run by aroace bloggers, and that’s... Not good when those bloggers decide to paint us as the villains. Even if you say you support allo aros as well, think about what kind of message it puts out when you talk about this issue as if we’re the root of all evil, the ones (gasp) dividing the community, the ones who are demanding too much, the ones who are somehow forcing people to choose between one community or the other. Allo aros are a very lost group as it is, being unable to turn to alloromantic communities or the asexual community for support; Seeing prominent aro bloggers talk about us in a way that gives the impression that we’re bad for talking about our feelings does not make us feel welcome. I personally feel like I can’t trust many aroace bloggers anymore, including a few of my friends. (If you’ve spoken to me directly about this issue and talked about it in depth, it’s not you. If you haven’t... Yes, it may be you. I’m sorry.)
Please, please slow down and listen to us. Please be mindful of the things you say publicly, and the power some of you hold as influential aro bloggers. I promise you none of us have anything against you, and none of us want to divide this community. We just want our voices to be heard. It’s time for influential aroaces to start making amends for the hurt they’ve caused us, even if that hurt has not been intentional.
As one last note, I will say this: It’s absolutely understandable to be upset by this discourse. It’s ok to be hurt. Nobody can control their feelings. But I think it’s important for aroaces to reflect on why they feel hurt. Why is it that, when we say “Your community has hurt us, we wish it would stop,” this upsets you? Why is your reaction not “I’m sorry; What can I do to help?”, but rather, “Oh yeah, well YOU’RE hurting ME by saying that, so you shouldn’t talk anymore!”? Your hurt is real and important, but I think it could help to identify where that hurt is actually coming from. Reflect on what, specifically, you are feeling, and try to separate that feeling from what’s actually going on.
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