#when you are depressed and have few sources of joy these things feel like very tangible losses

[dayisfading]

not gonna lie the whole eurovision thing is a huge bummer because it has genuinely been the main thing i have been looking forward to this year since seeing the entirety of the grand finals for the first time last year. i've known it was tenuous for a while considering that israel continues to israel, but it feels very final now and. yeah.

[peacephotography]

Four Lessons for the Long Haul - What Long Covid has taught me on resilience

When the paramedics came for me in the sweltering days of May 2020 it didn’t feel real. I had just passed out in the heat and collapsed headfirst into a radiator. I’d seen paramedics attend to friends and relatives, but in my feverish state, it didn’t sink in that they would come for me. My youthful sense of invincibility quickly faded. I found myself unable to lift my limbs or produce full sentences, and interminable headaches left me in despair. The after-effects are still with me today, in the form of Long Covid.

Now that I have regained some energy, I would like to share some of the lessons that illness has taught me about enduring difficulty in the climate and ecological crisis.

Lesson One: We need courage, not hope

Let the pain be your fuel. Let your total rejection of the status quo give you the courage to transform your life, to stand out from the crowd, and demand transformative action.

Margaret Klein Salamon, Facing the Climate Emergency

For the first few months of my illness, I woke up every morning hoping that I would suddenly recover and have “my life back”. Rather than letting go of what I could no longer do, I kept trying to live as before. But this detachment from the reality of my situation only brought me more pain.

Once I had the courage to face the uncertainty of illness, I let go of anxiously awaiting a miraculous recovery, and relaxed into my situation. In facing my pain and isolation I was able to accept them. They are a state of exile and vulnerability that can be a source of strength for navigating our bittersweet world.

The same is true for facing the climate emergency. If we hope that technology will save us or that criminally negligent governments will suddenly act responsibly, we are recklessly gambling our future on very poor odds. This can only bring pain.  Once we start to tell ourselves the truth about the situation, we can find pride in our honesty and compassion in our grief.  It’s from here that the resolve to take action will emerge.

Lesson Two: Follow your bliss

Joseph Campbell’s saying, “Follow your bliss,” is not an irresponsible phrase that ignores the pain of life but a reminder to receive pleasure and contentment, even in the depths of suffering.

Toko-pa Turner, Belonging

In illness, every day feels like a struggle. When it shows no sign of improving, or worsens, I lose my morale to keep going. It's an exhausting and depressing limbo. In the darkest and weakest hours, I saw my life flash before my eyes and began to dream of people and places I hadn’t seen for a decade. I saw the highs and lows that had shaped me into the man I am today. This gave me some space and perspective to see things from a different angle. From each challenge, there was a learning on how to face hardship. From each joy, an inspiration to live to the full.

Holding on to these feelings helps bring balance to life. In activism, we follow a true passion and through it find our fullest potential. But even this has its limits. Every step along the way we need to find that balance of difficulty and joy for our own wellbeing. Our struggle for climate and ecological action brings many challenges that can lead us to despairing inertia. In my sickness, a joy was as simple as the view from my bedroom window: a falling blossom, a scudding cloud, a wandering snail.

Such joys became my music, my dance, my poetry, my comedy and my sport: ways to relax into whatever challenge chronic pain brought.

Everyday joys can give us the resilience to keep facing what we must face. So as we rebel with all our might against the existential threat posed by the climate and ecological emergency, let’s also cherish what makes our existence so precious. From that reflective space we can find the courage to keep going.

Lesson Three: Words Matter

“The merest schoolgirl, when she falls in love, has Shakespeare or Keats to speak her mind for her; but let a sufferer try to describe a pain in his head to a doctor and language at once runs dry.”

Virginia Woolfe, On Being Ill

As I slowly regained my speech, I struggled to find the words to describe what I was going through. It struck me that there is a serious lack of language on both chronic illness and climate chaos.  If you are unable to express a feeling, you are unlikely to find any solace for it.

For our society to be able to come to terms with the emergency we need a language to relate to in films, literature and TV.  Some of the best I think we have so far are Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, a piercing portrayal of the rise of sexism and racism in an uninhabitable America; The Road by Cormac McCarthy, for its portrayal of the gritty end-point of mass extinction; and early Studio Ghibli films such as Princess Monoke/Nausicaa, whose heroines champion coexistence with the natural world.

However, the vast majority of current work focuses too much on apocalypse scenarios, produced to scare the shit out of us, instead of relatable everyday stories. How about a  climate drama set in water scarce Somalia? Or a northern woman’s heroic adventure to save her hometown from flooding? We need more romances that argue over whether having kids is responsible and comedies that mock the insanity of our toxic system like The Yes Men or Simon Amstell’s Carnage.

Stories are key for an emotional connection to the challenges humanity faces. Our stories of rebellion can be cathartic for climate anxiety and stir a generation of heroes ready to speak out for their futures. Let’s start writing them.

Lesson Four: Belonging

“By reviving a community, built around the places in which we live, and by anchoring ourselves, our politics and parts of our economy in the life of this community, we can recover the best aspects of humanity. We can mobilise our remarkable nature for our own good and the good of our neighbours.”

George Monbiot, Out of the Wreckage

Being housebound and unable to hold conversations without paralysing headaches is extremely isolating. Yet even in the depths of my pain I was able to appreciate the love of our community. Rebels gave me cards, voice-notes, medical advice, paintings and - best of all – cakes, cookies  and biscuits fresh from the oven. The feeling of belonging to and being supported by a community of kindhearted and extraordinary people gave me strength every step of the way.

Together we are building a community that can hold us through the dark days with pride, friendship and joy. We are showing not only the best aspects of humanity but also the solid foundations of a successful social movement. The climate and ecological emergency will shape the rest of our lives. So take every opportunity you can to nourish and prepare yourself for the long journey ahead. You’ll not only be more resilient, but you’ll find more joy.

-- Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this or can think of someone who could benefit from these words please do share it. If you'd like to read more, subscribe to my blog :) Peace, Robin

Photograph: Franck Fife

[sotteoks]

Fresh Meat | 🔞

──★ ˙pairing: Wonho aka Lee Hoseok x Fem!Reader ──★ ˙word count: 7.9k ──★ ˙summary: adjusting to the modern world as a centuries old vampire has been mostly easy for you. however, you can’t recall the last time you’ve had a meal that makes you want to go back for seconds. ──★ ˙contents: gymrat!wonho duh, vampire!reader, SMUT

warnings below the cut!

──★ ˙warnings: very very brief mentions of substance use, p*rn with just a crumb of a plot, biting, mentions of blood, switch!wonho, oral (m receiving), handjob, light overstimulation, fingering, squirting, mating press position, unprotected sex + creampie, please let me know if i missed anything ! ⸜ (｡˃ ᵕ ˂) ⸝

Searching the streets just for a fix. It’s demeaning, depressing and outright pathetic. But it is the price you must pay for becoming complacent and thinking that the hospital wouldn’t cut you off at some point with how much of a glutton you’ve become since finding out that in the city, money and influence is the easiest way to get what you want. 

Three month waiting period for just a few pints of blood, my ass you bitterly muttered as you recalled your last visit. The hospital staff was lucky that you had some regard for human life or else you would have simply cleared the blood bank out and possibly killed their personnel for denying you. However, causing a commotion like that would mean risking being chased out of the country and you were just now getting adjusted to life here. 

In a superficial modern society with impossible beauty standards and an emphasis on being ‘healthy’ you thought that it would have been a breeze finding someone to feed on. Much to your dismay, a lot of the upper class social circle you had infiltrated was nothing but a bunch of people who only looked perfect on the outside but were practically decaying on the inside. Disgusted was an understatement for how you felt when you discovered that even those who had the means to eat the best foods in the world, access to top of the line healthcare and the best personal trainers were still such revolting sacks of flesh. They were nothing but a human version of the picturesque fruits you would come across in grocery stores, just to bite into them and find that they were tasteless or on the verge of rotting. 

The mere memory of your first time in an upscale nightclub is able to induce gagging as you recall the overwhelming stench of putrid blood best described as rusting nails soaked in vinegar and sulfur that surrounded you. A lack of nutrients in the name of trying to stay as thin as possible was the culprit. Substance use often sullied the taste of blood as well, but with the stresses of modern society you understood why people would turn to things like nicotine, alcohol, and the harder drugs to be able to feel okay. Blood from a person who was barely getting enough nutrients as is and used things such as nicotine or amphetamines to further stave off their appetite was sickening enough to send you into a rage. Yet it was something you had been coming across more and more frequently no matter where you ventured on this spinning blue marble called Earth. 

And oftentimes, it was what you would have to settle for if you wanted to stay alive. If you had known humanity would come to this, you would have let yourself die eons ago with your loved ones instead of wandering the Earth alone and outliving everyone you had ever grown fond of. 

Food is not only a source of energy and necessity for maintaining bodily function. It’s a part of culture and it has the capacity to make people happy. Much like the average human craves the joy of experiencing fine dining at some point in their life or has a favorite food they would like to indulge in, you found yourself craving the blood of someone who ate healthy, took care of their body and abstained from excessive substance use. With the decrease in accessibility to quality blood, the joy of feeding was gone therefore making staying alive feel like a chore. 

Letting your sense of smell be your guide rather than waste anymore time walking around aimlessly, your feet followed where your nose led them to. Walking through the city streets at night, there were tons of different scents to be picked up, most of them being unpleasant, but the smell of the finest blood is sweet enough to cut through it all. As you continued down the block, the smell would become overwhelmingly strong and outshine the stench of—must? 

Finally looking up, you find that your feet have carried you to a gym. One would think that the gym would have been an obvious place for you to lurk around if you wanted someone with tasty blood, but you had been around during the 1980s steroids boom—combine that with all the fad diets that had came and went, even the people who followed strict regimens in order to look like the epitome of physical health with their low body fat and high muscle percentage were just beefier versions of the rich, waifish looking socialites you called ‘friends’. 

Seeing that you weren’t dressed to go to the gym, you wouldn’t dare enter the premises out of fear of attracting unnecessary attention. Lingering around the outside, you’re able to peek through the glass doors and are surprised to see just how many people were exercising at the late hours. Even with enhanced senses, you couldn’t narrow down who had been the source of the delectable fragrance with just vision and there were still too many different scents in the area. Pacing back and forth, you contemplate if you have enough energy to utilize a different vampiric ability to lure out the person you were after. 

While lost in thought, the sound of footsteps approaching causes you to snap back into the present moment and panic as you realize just how out of place you must have looked. Examining your surroundings, you notice the nearby bus stop and dash to take a seat at the bench under the covered port. Listening closely for the footsteps, your acute hearing allows you to deduce that the person heading your direction was exiting the very gym you were lurking in front of. And it seems like Lady Luck is finally on your side as that sweet smell you were after was growing stronger as this person neared you. Despite this person still being at least twenty feet away, their scent intoxicates you and makes your stomach twist with this primal desire; truly testing your restraint. The delicious blend of such perfect, untainted blood with hints of sweat and remnants of this fresh scent— maybe from a shower earlier or from their laundry— has you practically salivating. Your hands had been casually resting atop your knees as you sat down but when you lower your head, you see your fingertips digging into your flesh as a means of relieving the tension in your body.  

Without even looking up you can feel them heading your direction, the heat radiating off their body and their pheromones taunting you as their scent is so overwhelming you could practically taste it. Forcing yourself to focus before they get any closer, you pick apart the notes of their natural perfume and decipher their profile; your target was male, late twenties to early thirties, and in nearly optimal physical health. You could sniff out a few deficiencies in some vitamins and minerals but in comparison to most you had come across, he was perfect to you. What made him even more ideal in your eyes is that you didn’t even have to exert any energy trying to lure him toward you; it was almost like some sort of natural magnetism had brought him your way.  All that was left for you to do was to seal the deal. 

“Hey, I know I’m a little sweaty but is it fine if I take the seat next to you?” A voice gently asks you, in contrast to the mildly intimidating shadow they cast over you. “I just did leg day and I’m starting to feel it already.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine.” You awkwardly reply as you try to regain composure before facing the stranger. Looking up, you catch sight of the boyishly charming face that doesn’t quite match the muscular body it’s attached to but nonetheless, he’s a sight for sore eyes and the appealing aesthetic is enough to cause you to perk up in excitement. “Are you a member of that gym?” you question in an attempt to keep conversation going despite already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, it’s one of the nicer gyms in the area.” He replies casually. “Since I didn’t see you in the gym, where are you coming from?”

You can’t help but smile at his naturally friendly disposition, knowing just how little effort it’ll be to get into his head when the time is right. Not only would you have a satisfying meal tonight, it was going to be as easy as taking candy from a baby. 

“I was looking for a treat at the cafe across the street.” You lie easily, gesturing to the aforementioned building. “But seeing the gym made me lose my appetite.” you add in with a small laugh. 

“I’ve thought about stopping by that place but it would defeat the purpose of me going to the gym.” The stranger laughs along with you, contributing to the lighthearted mood of the conversation between the two of you. 

Sensing that the bus was approaching soon, you now have to make the decision of how aggressively you want to pursue your meal. Should you slowly seduce him with natural charm or would it be better to eliminate any chances of him rejecting you?

“There’s nothing wrong with the occasional treat—especially if you have a good time burning off the calories.” You remark playfully, eyes catching his and carefully reading his expression; and maybe taking a peek into his soul and inner thoughts for the hell of it.

 Just as intended, he had registered your words as vaguely amorous and he was flustered over it. The desire to entertain the flirty conversation is there, but he’s a bit shy and you’ve temporarily left him at a loss for words. Oftentimes you had loathed being immortal for so long however, in this moment you’re thankful you had been around long enough to master the gift of telepathy or else you would have interpreted the handsome man’s lack of response as him being put off by your approach. 

“Maybe we can exercise together sometime.” He says, trying his best to keep cool. “My name is Hoseok, by the way.”

You tell him your name and manage to exchange contact information right before the bus arrives. Part of you had anticipated the two of you to part ways at this point and you actually would have to hijack control over the situation and take things into your own hands but much to your surprise, Hoseok seems to have no qualms about inviting you out for drinks at a bar near his place. You have to bite back a laugh at how absurdly easy he’s making things for you without even knowing it, making the prospect of feeding on him even more exciting for you. 

Without hesitating, you accept his invite; teasing him and questioning if it was common for him to ask strangers he meets at bus stops for drinks to which he’s only able to respond to with a sheepish laugh. Going along with your banter, he points out how quickly you agreed to spend time with him and you’re backed into a corner; briefly wondering if you should give another go at reading his thoughts. Ultimately, you decide against it in the name of conserving more energy and not wanting to risk bleeding him dry when you finally get your chance to sink your teeth into him. Such a fine piece of man, it’s hard for you to decide where you want to get your first taste. Lean muscle with a low body fat percentage meant biting into his flesh would have the perfect amount of tenderness and juiciness; the idea of it makes your tongue feel heavy in your mouth as you start salivating once more.

Your hunger is only exacerbated by the fact that the bus is packed despite the late hour, forcing you and Hoseok to be packed against each other like sardines. So many other bloodbags- bodies surround you in the small space but the only thing on your mind is him. Your senses desire only him; to smell him and to taste him mostly but touching him and even just looking at him is exciting in their own way. As you hungrily eye the bulky man standing in front of you while his gaze is elsewhere, you can’t help but wonder if he would even feel that much pain if you bit him. 

The bus braking aggressively after nearly zooming past a stop with one lone rider waiting causes a majority of the standing passengers to lose balance. 

You and Hoseok included. 

Stumbling slightly, you try to regain your hold on the handrail above your head only to have another passenger knock into you and cause your body to collide with Hoseok’s. Your first instinct is to mentally curse yourself for being so lost in your thoughts that your reflexes don’t kick in. The second thing that goes through your mind is losing your footing like that probably made you look more human anyway so it’s not something you should shame yourself for. And the third thing, perhaps the most maddening thought, is just how warm and sturdy Hoseok’s frame feels against yours. Time seems to slow down as one of his arms wrap around your shoulders in an almost protective manner as he asks if you’re alright. 

On the outside, you give him a small nod of reassurance but on the inside, you’re struggling to keep your cool as you practically feel drunk after getting that close to him. It took every fiber of your being to not sink your fangs into him when you landed face first into his chest. Without even realizing it, you had been trembling from just how excited the physical contact made you and Hoseok had interpreted it as you being cold so he pulled you in even closer. 

Your heart thuds against your chest so loud, you can barely hear Hoseok’s thoughts when you read them again. 

Something, something— maybe we should just skip the bar and drink at my place. 

The rest of his thoughts register to you as just a slurry of word soup with no real meaning because of your inability to focus. You’re so out of sorts just by being in his personal space, you accidentally leave the channel for telepathic communication open right as you think about just how much you crave him. 

Right after the thought is completed, you panic and realize he wasn’t meant to hear that; but after that slip up, you wonder if he’s even able to comprehend what just happened. You coyly peek at him through your lashes to gauge his expression but his eyes seem to be fixed on the streets outside of the window as he waits for the bus to arrive at his stop. As much as you desperately want to read his thoughts once more, you had already overdone it. Your body feels just a tad heavier as you let yourself lean further into Hoseok as a means of support, wishing that the trip was over already. Hunger and lust no longer seem like two separate emotions with each second that passes while you’re in his presence. All you want is to—

“Oh, this is our stop.” Hoseok finally says to you after what felt like ages of not speaking; but realistically it was closer to five minutes. The two of you make your way past the other riders and get off the bus, making you realize just how suffocated you felt being in such a small enclosed space with Hoseok’s scent tempting and teasing you. Finally being able to breathe in the cool, night air you’re able to think straight again. Or at least, gain as much clarity as you can with him still being in the vicinity.  

“Do you wanna skip the bar and just get some drinks from the convenience store then go back to your place?” You suggest, laying the charm on thick as you smile at him. 

And of course, since he had already considered this, he agrees. 

Finally getting back to his apartment, you’re encompassed by his fragrance and no longer have to worry about any repercussions of what could happen if you were to lose your grip. The first thing you notice after being invited in was the accent table in the entryway. Your eyes are drawn to the catchall bowl that sits atop it with a lone key fob inside. Just by the smell, you knew for sure Hoseok lived alone, so obviously the car key had to belong to him. But if that was the case, why would he take public transportation? The only logical assumption was that his car wasn’t working right and it was just fate for you to meet him tonight. 

“I’m gonna shower since I didn’t get to take one at the gym, is that cool?” Hoseok asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Only if you're giving me an invitation for me to join.” You tease, watching the tips of his ears flush a light red color at your bold statement. “I’m kidding, but don’t make me wait too long.”

The two of you share a few more jokes and laughs before he finally goes to take a shower. Just as you wished, Hoseok didn’t keep you waiting for long. He returns to the living room where you had been sitting patiently in a plain t-shirt and grey sweats while drying his hair with a towel. Stray droplets of water bead around his neck and hairline just be wiped away with the cloth as he stalks toward you. Settling down on the couch beside you, the two of you resume the playful conversation from earlier while sharing a few bottles of soju between the two of you. 

Carefully pacing yourself, you make sure Hoseok drinks more than you as you pour him shot after shot; encouraging him to indulge himself after a  good workout even when he says he needs to take it easy. However, it’s crucial for you to get him to at least match the level of inebriation that you were currently at just from being in his presence. Even without utilizing your vampiric powers, you note how much influence you have over him and how willing he is to listen. 

“You know, you don’t have to get me drunk to fuck.” He slurs slightly before chuckling as you pour him another drink.

“You can see right through me.” You play along with him, setting down the bottle and then nudging his glass in his direction. “So, it’s fine if I do this?” Inviting yourself into Hoseok’s personal space, you perch yourself on his lap with your lips ghost along his neck as you await his reply.  

“Y-yeah.” He stutters out as he feels your tongue poke out to lap at his skin and baring your fangs, letting him feel the pointed canines right before sinking them into his flesh. You retreat for only a mere few seconds to admire the two parallel puncture wounds that mark his once flawless skin. Diving right back as the two little holes start to drip out the crimson liquid you had been craving all night, you feed on him eagerly. 

Just as expected, he tastes absolutely divine. It’s hard for you to pull away from him because every time you think about it, you just want to sink your teeth into a different part of his body and see if some places taste better than others. On top of that, he’s such a delight to feed on him as he just gives in to you; letting himself be lulled into unconsciousness. Despite the amount of blood you were suckling from his neck, that wasn’t enough to stop blood from rushing between his legs and causing his not so little friend to start poking you in the butt. 

It seems that you had underestimated just how bewitched you had Hoseok. Wrapped around your pretty little finger, he probably wouldn’t have minded you bleeding him dry. But during the few hours you’ve known him you have grown quite fond of him yourself. You would hate to cut your time together short. Mustering up the will, you finally pull away from his neck, making sure not to leave a single drop left behind after finally getting a good meal. 

Seeing that he was passed out and probably having some sort of erotic dream about you, you get up from his lap and peruse around his apartment; getting acquainted with the layout and seeing what things he had kept around. Locating a paper to-do list on the fridge, you quickly scribble your name and number as it seemed like the polite thing to do since you were leaving without bidding him goodbye. 

And with that, you see yourself out. 

In the following weeks, you thought that you would be fine. You went out and did your thing as usual. But Hoseok remained at the front of your mind at all times. He texted you the day after you went to his apartment, having no clear recollection of what happened. Despite how much you enjoyed talking to him and wanted to see him again, you denied all of his offers to hang out again mainly out of fear of losing control in his presence. But the fact he always wanted to see during daylight hours played a factor in it as well. 

It had been so long that you had experienced an emotion like this. You weren’t sure how to cope. Being careful about not killing those you feed on had always been something you worried about; but to feel even an ounce of guilt after feeding on someone was strange. As tasty as he was and how much you craved him, the idea of feeding on him again made you feel bad. 

But of course, the universe works in mysterious ways and you would cross paths with him again. 

Under flashy club lights, celebrating a friend’s birthday was the last place you expected to run into Hoseok. Before you saw him with your eyes, you were able to sniff out his delectable fragrance.  

I guess the city is smaller than I thought. 

You muse to yourself as you sip on your cocktail, very aware of how his scent was growing stronger and stronger until he finally made his way to the VIP section you were seated at with your friends. Not wanting to deal with any awkward conversations about why you’ve been avoiding him, you quietly disappear amongst the large group of people and scurry off to get lost on the dance floor. But it’s just no use. The natural connection between you and Hoseok strikes again. 

Your time dancing alone doesn’t last very long because some random guy thought it would be appropriate to join you. You turn around to tell him off but he won’t take no for an answer, souring your mood to the point of contemplating playing along with him just so you could suck the literal life from him. However, before the opportunity would arise, a familiar shadow looms over you from behind.

Luckily for you, Hoseok’s mere presence is enough to get the weird guy to take a hint and leave. 

Maybe it’s the liquor in your system. Maybe it’s the fact that whenever you’re around him, he serves as your own personal brand of heroin—the dramatic metaphor Edward Cullen used to describe Bella was the only way you could describe your feelings— but you’re not thinking straight when you lean into Hoseok’s firm body, finding comfort in him after the odd encounter you just had. His firm chest is pressed up against your back so you don’t have to worry about getting lost in his eyes. Not yet at least. You take it upon yourself to reach for his arms and wrap them around your waist, urging him to dance with you. 

“I thought you were avoiding me, what happened?” Hoseok playfully asks, leaning in close to your ear so you could hear him over the music. It’s such a simple action, but the sound of voice paired with his breath fanning over your neck sends a tingle of excitement down your spine. 

“I thought I was, too.” You admit with a small laugh, turning your body in his arms in order to face him. “I wasn’t prepared to see you here.”

“Can you tell me why?” He questions as his expression turns serious.

Eyes meeting his, you can detect the slightest bit of hurt under all the confusion and curiosity. It tugs at your heart to see him wearing that emotion. So much so, it compels you to do the unthinkable. 

Wanna know a secret? You tilt your head curiously as you look up at him.

Hoseok’s expression morphs into one of surprise as he realizes that he heard your words but didn’t see your lips move. And even if your lips had moved, it would have been impossible to hear you as clearly as he did. It’s almost as if— 

I’m in your thoughts.

Silently, you create some distance from him as you remove his arms from your body just to take his hand into yours and lead him away from the crowd. Weaving through the crowd of people, the two of you go out a backdoor that had been propped open as a feeble attempt to get more airflow into the venue. In the empty alley, the air is dramatically cooler and less humid than inside; it’s refreshing. 

“Wanna take a guess about what’s going on?” You ask him as a dallying grin tugs at the corner of your lips. “Don’t say your answer out loud. Just think about it.”

In every single way, the current situation Hoseok finds himself in right now is the opposite of the scenes from Twilight. Yet, it’s the only parallel he could draw right now as he sees your pointed teeth glint under the moonlight. 

You could read his mind. You turned down all of his invites for morning coffee dates or lunch. He first met you at night and now he’s seeing you once again under the blanket of nightfall. Before he passed out from what he originally thought was him being too drunk, he remembered you being very interested in his neck. 

But those things could be just coincidences, right? 

Vampires aren’t real.

Or are they? 

Possible proof could be standing right in front of him but the fear of dying in order to find out the truth about what’s supposed to be a fictional creature terrifies him.

“I would never dream of killing you.” You say softly, a small laugh escaping you. “If I wasn’t worried about accidentally bleeding you dry, I wouldn’t have avoided you.”

The sudden confession eases Hoseok’s nerves; but it creates new questions in his mind. Questions that you listen in on and you’re more than happy to answer. 

A combination of thoughts with a few more spoken words sprinkled into the mix are exchanged between the two of you before both of you agree on returning to Hoseok’s apartment. 

As soon as you make it through the door, you’re all over each other. You move so quickly, it makes Hoseok’s head spin. In just one blink, you had him pushed up against his front door as soon as it closed. While kissing his neck, eager fingers unbuttoning the dress shirt he was wearing. Your lips follow the trail of exposed skin, going lower and lower until you encounter a new obstruction. 

His pants.  

A soft hand reaches to grasp the semi-erect length hiding under the fabric. Giving it a firm squeeze, you feel it twitch under your touch and grow harder. The little movement amuses you more than you should as Hoseok lets out little whimpers so you repeat the motion until you’ve gotten him fully hard. 

“Please,” He whines out. “Touch me more.”

The desperation in his voice is so endearing, it makes you almost want to give in to him. Your fingers slowly inch closer to his belt buckle and you take your time undoing it. Hoseok’s eyes watch every languid action, silently wishing you would pick up the pace. Even if he knows that you could read his thoughts, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about what he wants you to do for him and to him.

“Let me have just one thing. And I’ll do whatever you want.” You say, looking up at him as you yank his belt out of the loops of his pants. “Will you let me have it?’

Without even bothering to question your conditions, Hoseok nods eagerly. Too far gone with lust, he would let you have anything as long as it meant feeling more of your touch. But of course, this type of response is exactly what you expected from him and it pleases you. 

Making quick work of the button and zipper on his pants, you hastily yank the fabric down his oh so muscular legs; watching him carelessly kick away the garment once it pools at his ankles. Your hands run up and down his thighs, enjoying the way the muscle feels under your palms before you move in closer; lips ghosting along his inner thigh. Hoseok tenses ever so slightly as you litter kisses so dangerously close to where he wants you but not quite making contact. 

Hoseok maintains a close eye on all your actions, anticipating what’s next. But his eyes just can’t keep up with you. He doesn’t see your fangs drag against his skin; he can only feel it but he just assumes it’s your regular teeth. Until he feels a small prick into the meat of his thigh and the sensation of liquid running down his leg. He’s only able to get a glimpse of red dripping along his thigh before your tongue is chasing after it and licking it away. Your mouth covers the two miniscule holes on his thigh before you start suckling. 

His head falls back in bliss at the suction on such a sensitive area but he starts to feel lightheaded due to the blood loss. Lapsing in and out of consciousness, he can’t focus on a single thing except for how hard it is to stay afloat. 

“Don’t pass out on me now.” You coo gently, digging your nails into his thigh as means of keeping him awake. 

Eyes fluttering open at the sound of your words, his gaze returns to you and it’s almost like pure energy was injected into his veins when he sees you pulling off his boxer briefs. He holds his breath as his length practically springs out of its confines. A pearly bead of precum decorates the tip of his cock, prompting you to lap it up. The warmth of your tongue surprises Hoseok and elicits a small gasp of pleasure from him; only for it to turn into a shaky moan as your hand moves to grasp the base of his cock. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip, you feel his cock pulse under your lips before finally taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.  

“Oh fuck—” Hoseok whimpers, encouraging you to take more of him down your throat. With your hand carefully stroking whatever you couldn’t take, you hollow your cheeks and suck him off with a hunger that matches his neediness. 

After all, you did tell him you would do whatever he wanted if he let you have what you wanted.  And being able to get inside of his head took a lot of the guesswork out of it. 

Your tongue is set flat against the underside of his cock, massaging the area with the utmost care as one of the veins throbs with every motion you make. The prettiest moans and whimpers keep falling from him, it’s impossible for you to ignore your desire to keep hearing more of them. So of course, your natural course of action is to not just keep going; but to up the intensity for him.

Just having your lips stretched around his thick length has drool pooling in your mouth and threatening to spill out. As you push yourself further along his cock, greedily cramming the entirety of it past your throat, so much saliva has gathered it doesn’t just help ease him deeper inside; it also starts running down your chin. 

Hoseok can barely stand to look at you at this point; the visual is so stimulating it makes him want to cum just from the sight. All of his thoughts are scrambled and he can barely find the words to tell you how good it feels to have you deepthroating his cock with so much gusto. Only a series of gasps and whiny moans are able to come out of him as he feels himself melting under your touch, the door against his back being the only source of stability he has since his legs were starting to feel like jelly trying to keep himself up. The warm heaven your mouth and throat send him to is almost too much to take—especially when paired with the lewd sounds of you gagging on his cock and his thoughts of how good your pussy must feel—

“Please—” Hoseok rasps out, a shaky hand reaching for the back of your head.

“You want to stop already?” You ask mockingly as you pull your mouth off of him, opting to slowly jack him off; the slick sounds of your hand tugging on his length filling in the silence between you as he tries to find the words to convey his feelings. “We’re just getting started.” You pout, moving your hand slower as you enjoy the salacious noises created by his sopping wet cock being pumped by you.

“N-no! Don’t stop, it’s too good.” He cries out, feeling your grip tighten each time it passes over the sensitive tip of his cock. “It’s so fucking good.” He gasps, writhing under your touch as more pre cum leaks out of him adding to the wet mess of saliva you had created and contributing to the sloppy symphony as you pleasure him with your hand.

“Please what, then? What do you want?” You taunt, looking up at him as you feel his cock throbbing under your touch. 

His face is flushed as he shyly meets your intense gaze, trying not to stumble on his words after trying so hard to string together a coherent sentence. 

“Please…let me cum.” He barely gets out, another pathetic moan nearly cutting him off mid sentence. 

Your hand picks up the pace; coaxing him to his finish but as he needily bucks into your fist, you decide to let Hoseok chase after his own climax just for your own amusement. Watching him closely, you observe how his chest rises and falls quicker with his moans coming more frequently. He was so beautiful like this, he could probably make the Greek gods green with envy. His body tenses as his orgasm rapidly builds. With one more tight tug of his cock, his seed spills all over your hand, some of it falling into your lap. 

Your hand slows down, but you don’t stop your ministrations as you force Hoseok to ride out his climax no matter how much he whines. 

“I’m so sensitive. It’s too much.” He pants out; yet his body says otherwise as he’s still bucking into your hand, the sticky mess of cum making him glide in and out of your fist easier. 

“You like it though,” You laugh as you give his cock another squeeze, prompting more of the milky substance to seep out of the tip. “You really wanna end it here?” 

Standing up from your kneeling position, you finally release his cock from your hold and lap up the secretion clinging to your skin while observing Hoseok’s current state. His eyes are glossed over, in a daze as he watches you hungrily lick his cum off of your fingers. It isn’t until you have swallowed the last drop, he recovers from his post orgasm haze and feels revitalized. You can practically see the life return in his eyes and the moment he regains his energy, his posture straightens before lunging forward to toss you over his shoulder then haul you to his bedroom. 

For a human, he moves pretty swiftly and it impresses you. You’re further enamored by his strength; knowing that being able to lift you so easily was no feat to scoff at. When he tosses you onto the mattress, it causes the short cocktail dress you had been wearing to ride up and conveniently exposes your lace panties to him.

Hoseok is only able to admire you for a few seconds before the urge to touch you overwhelms him. Mentally, he wrestles with whether he should go straight for the treasure between your legs or if he should ease into it and take his time. But of course, you make the choice easy when you’re able to pick up on those thoughts. He looms over you, caging you in his arms, looking down at you with lust thinly veiled by that boyish charm you find yourself so enthralled by.

One hand slips into the fabric of your panties, making your lips part in a silent gasp. Hoseok’s touch is rough against your skin and he moves with an eagerness that excites your senses. His fingers gently gather the arousal that was leaking out of you before going to circle your swollen clit, causing a small moan to escape you. He’s fascinated by your mere existence; he didn’t think that the flesh of a vampire could be so warm. He wants to feel more of you.

Rather than rely on you telling him how to do things, Hoseok is eager to learn how to please you; letting your noises and body’s reactions guide him. Massaging your clit at varying speeds and pressures; bringing you so close to climaxing just from stimulating the small bundle of nerves then stopping when you were about to cum. He was a more attentive lover than you could have imagined and it doesn’t take long until you’re practically dripping all over his fingers and pleading for him to put them inside you. Not one to disappoint, he tears your skimpy underwear off your body; tossing the tattered fabric off to the side carelessly.  

His digits were completely covered in your arousal after the lewd petting so when he goes to slip his middle finger into your weeping hole, it slides in easily and is immediately followed by a second. You moan out loud at the intrusion and instinctively pull Hoseok in for a kiss to quiet yourself. His kisses are slow and tender, a stark contrast to the way his thick fingers fuck your sopping cunt. The heat of his lips against yours is an addictive sensation, but you end up breaking the kiss when his fingers roughly thrust into the sensitive, spongy spot within your walls. 

“Feel good?” He gently asks as his fingers slow down, deliberately rubbing up against that spot with more vigor. You think you let out some sort of positive affirmation to him—you’re not sure because your mind can only focus on how good you’re feeling—but his fingers pick up the pace once more, his palm slapping against your clit every time he thrusts deep inside. 

“F-fuck, just like that.” You slur, bucking your hips against his fingers, desperate to reach your climax and regain at least some of your mental clarity.

It’s impossible to ignore the slick noises your cunt makes as Hoseok’s fingers work to coax your climax out of you. You’re writhing against the sheets as the two digits inside you pound into you at an ungodly pace; and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, you feel his thumb rubbing at your clit to give you consistent stimulation there. The white hot heat that pools in the pit of your stomach burns brighter and hotter with every action Hoseok makes; your legs shaking and moans constantly pouring from your lips. With a shrill exclamation of his name, your back arches off of the mattress, vision going blurry. You can barely process what’s happening as before you’re squirting all over his fingers and soiling the sheets beneath you.

Eyes fluttering closed, you take a moment to yourself to even out your breathing and gather your thoughts. The bunched up fabric around your midsection suddenly feels constricting despite you having it on for a good portion of the evening so you take it upon yourself to yank it off your body as Hoseok’s fingers help you ride out the remains of your climax.

He had been eyeing your juicy pussy the whole time. Watching you squirt was one of the most erotic things he’s seen and he desperately wants a taste of you. The only thing stopping him is his uncertainty about whether you would like it if he dove back in so soon after your orgasm.  His thoughts are so loud now that you’re not so consumed with lust.   

Unfortunately for him, eating you out is a privilege he has not earned yet. He would have to wait for another time. You can see his expression briefly become sullen once you relay the thought to him, but you put an emphasis on the fact that there will be a next time which makes him perk right up.

 So, for now he would be satisfied with licking your remains off of his fingers after he pulls them out of you. 

“Oh, wow.” You muse as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at him. “Your little friend is up after I fed on you and milked you dry? Aren’t you something special?” 

Your gaze fixes itself between Hoseok’s legs and you wonder how long he had been sporting that hard on; and also, why on Earth did it look bigger than before? In all your time of being alive and playing with your food, never had you seen a man so lively after being drained of two bodily fluids. 

Sitting back on his knees and no longer looking down at you, he blesses you with some more eye candy; letting you ogle at him for a bit and really take in just how well built he was. Your eyes trail up the expanse of his body before you meet his and realize the needy expression he now wears.

“Can I please fuck you now?” He asks the dirty question so sweetly, how could you possibly say no? The mere sound of his words make you wanna jump on him. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the fact that you wanna know what exactly he’s capable of. 

Beckoning him closer to you, you invite Hoseok to fill the space between your parted legs, silently relinquishing all control to him. 

With one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, you watch as he taps the swollen head against your overly sensitive clit; a shiver running down your spine at the sensation. You’re only able to watch in a lust filled haze as Hoseok drags his cock against your pussy, happily coating it in your arousal. Once his thick length is nice and wet, he eases the tip into you slowly. Just as the first inch slides in, you feel your toes go numb as he stretches you out. As Hoseok sinks deeper into you, your eyes roll back at the pain laced with pleasure. He may have done an amazing job at making you cum with his fingers, but now your walls were so tight and sensitive; trying to take in the girth of his cock isn’t easy. It hurts but you’re begging him for more; and Hoseok eagerly obliges, filling you up to the hilt and just admiring the way your cunt molds to fit him. 

Taking a hold of your thighs in each hand, he pushes them against your chest, leaving your ankles to dangle over his shoulders. Leaning into you, the weight of his body presses you into this excruciating folded position but the mild discomfort is easily overshadowed by just how deep you feel his cock. His balls press against your ass, catching the arousal that leaks from your center before his hips draw back just to deliver you a hard thrust that sets the tone for the rest that follow, a choked out gasp slips out of you. 

Your eyes roll back into your head as Hoseok fucks you into the sheets, your mind becoming scrambled and only able to focus on how good he makes you feel. Good was a gross understatement for the pleasure he gives you but it would have to suffice with how hazy your mind was.

It doesn’t take long until he’s desperately rutting into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixed in with your moans and Hoseok’s heavy panting filling his otherwise silent bedroom.   

“Oh my god,” He rasps out. “How are you so wet?” His question comes out as a breathless whisper. Both of you are able to feel the gush of arousal that seeps out of your pussy at the sound of his voice but rather than make another comment on it, he thrusts into you faster. You snap out of your daze just to watch Hoseok’s head fall back as he loses himself in the feeling of how wet and warm your walls around his cock. 

“There, fuck, right there!” You barely get out between moans as the angle of his thrusts shift ever so slightly and hits that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Half lidded eyes focus on how much more attractive he appears as he’s pounding away at your g-spot, eager to make you cum again. 

Your legs shake and your moans get breathier and whinier. All the tell tale signs of you being extremely close to cumming were there, but it still took you by surprise when your walls squeezed down impossibly tight on his dick. You shiver as your climax hits you, your juices trickling down on to his length that’s still moving in and out of you as he’s now able to selfishly chase after his own orgasm. Breathy whimpers fall from you as he continues to stimulate your walls, fucking you through your climax and prolonging the sensation of euphoria overtaking your body. 

“W-where should I cum?” Hoseok asks, looking down at you with pupils blown out with lust and the neediest expression on his face. 

“Wherever you want.” You tell him as a tired smile graces your features, your hand reaching to stroke his cheek fondly. You see it in his eyes, the notion of being allowed to cum where he wanted excites him even more. He pummels into your pussy at his fastest speed yet, searching for his own little slice of heaven within your walls. With the most beautiful sound you’ve heard, he finally unleashes his load inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. You sigh happily as you let him take a few more moments to ride out his climax before slipping your legs off of his shoulders and carefully pulling yourself off of his cock. 

Hoseok’s orgasm had sapped the last bit of energy he had out of him as he slumped onto the bed, lying opposite of you. Satisfied with your encounter with him, you kiss his forehead and wish him sweet dreams before you bid him goodbye. 

You would disappear before the sun started to rise, but once it was nightfall, you would happily return to him.

[ninadove]

If the woman next to Nathalie is indeed Amelie and Emilie is still dead, how do you imagine Amelie and Felix will redecorate The Agreste Mansion? (Assuming that they move there since Amelie is now Adrien’s only adult relative left.)

Oh my gosh Anon. That is SUCH a cute ask, but let me tell you, you have opened Pandora’s box and unleashed 50 levels of overanalysis upon the world. Time for me to turn into an architecture and interior design major for the sake of this post.

In order to get a good sense of Amelie’s taste and of the massive work that needs to be done, let’s compare the shared spaces in the Agreste mansion to those in the Graham de Vanily penthouse.

The first thing that strikes me is that the palettes are exactly the same: white and black are the dominant hues, with a pop of colour coming from earthy tones. And yet, the two atmospheres could not be more different! In my opinion, this boils down to a few key elements: lighting, shapes, space, and purpose.

1. Lighting

The most obvious one. Just look how miserable the Agrestes’ living (?) room looks in comparison to the Graham de Vanily’s. There’s an interesting subversion here when it comes to lighting sources.

The Agrestes’ mansion relies mostly on natural lighting, which gives it a greyish, depressing look. Windows are everywhere, and they’re big, but they aren’t meant to let the sun filter through; instead, they ressemble a cage keeping Adrien in.

Sunlight represents the outside world, which Gabriel "No one matters except us" hates. In his mind, whatever looms outside of the mansion is dangerous. Hawkmoth’s attacks always start with letting the light in, the same way he welcomes his victims’ negative emotions; while he keeps Emilie safe in the crypt, as far away from the sun as possible (even when we do see it fully illuminated, it has to come from an artificial source).

Emilie’s cosy little basement, Gabriel’s office and Nathalie’s room — the adults’ world — are the only spaces that get the courtesy of significant artificial lightning. In other words, there is not enough light and joy coming in from the outside, and definitely not enough coming from the inside to compensate. Which is super sad if you ask me.

Now onto the Graham de Vanily penthouse. We do not get many shots of it, and most of them are taken at night time, which I (want to) believe is a very conscious choice on the writing team’s part.

While Gabriel refuses to let sunlight, and everything good it symbolises, into his son’s life, Amelie welcomes the night and the potential dangers it carries with it. The windows make up two entire walls, offering a full view of the outside world.

Notice how the moon and stars are nowhere to be seen in this shot, yet the penthouse remains significantly brighter than the mansion on the sunniest day. The abundance of artificial light in the Graham de Vanily home, light that comes from within, is a symbol of the love they share as a family.

So obviously, we need to get Adrien some lamps, urgently.

2. Shapes

The thing about the Agreste mansion is, it has potential.

No really. Hear me out.

The use of straight lines (vertical in the overall architecture, expanding like sun rays in the minimalistic decor) is reminiscent of Art Déco, which is a very fun style. For instance, it gave us the Chrysler building:

But here, it’s just… Not working. In fact, these same lines are what makes the entire building look like a cage — not just the windows I mentioned above, but the entire structure of the place, trapped between vertical lines like behind prison bars.

On the other hand, the Graham de Vanily penthouse is ruled primarily by horizontal lines, which expand the space instead of compressing it. It’s smaller, but it feels bigger and more breathable.

This difference in structure directly contributes to my third point:

3. Space

More precisely, how it is organised to make the mansion look threatening, and the penthouse cosy.

And by that I specifically mean this AWFUL NO GOOD TERRIBLE STAIRCASE.

It’s the first thing we think about when picturing the mansion; how it towers over the characters and crushes them. There’s a reason Marinette’s act of defiance in Pretension was to rush up those despicable horrifying very very bad stairs to find Adrien; they are a symbol of Gabriel’s power over his world, his fans, his son, his victims.

Interestingly enough, the penthouse is also built on several levels ��� which we can infer by the presence of a very discreet mezzanine. This implies the existence of stairs, right??? Where are they???

It’s very blink-and-you-miss it — the exact opposite of the Agreste staircase. To the Graham de Vanilys, stairs are just stairs: a necessity for their comings-and-goings, a useful infrastructure in their day-to-day life as a family. Not a display of power and control.

Oh? Is that a transition I sense? Absolutely, for it is time to move on to the last part of our analysis:

4. Purpose

Just like the staircase, every single piece of furniture in the Agreste household serves a purpose. Adrien’s room is the best example of this phenomenon.

On top of the essentials (bed + desk & computer combo), we immediately notice:

- A plethora of trophies, reinforcing the message that Adrien has to be the best at everything he does, always;

- An impressive bookshelf, illustrating the top-notch (and somewhat elitist) education Adrien has been receiving at home.

"But Nina!" you might ask, "What about the fun stuff? What about the arcade games and the basketball hoop and the climbing wall?"

I hear you. Those things look pretty cool, don’t they? Until you remember that Adrien has spent his entire life in isolation. These are all appliances that would normally be found outside of the house, giving him an opportunity to socialise. In other words, they are meant to deter him from seeking enjoyment in the “real” world. If, like me, you were obsessed with N Harmonia as a pre-teen, you might notice some striking similarities to his cage room:

Still not convinced? Say hi to our friend the foosball table!

Meanwhile, on the actually loving side of the family, you get an entire piano and AN ACTUAL ABSTRACT PAINTING:

It’s not even figurative — unlike the portraits of the Agreste family members or the statue in the garden, constantly reminding us of Emilie’s absence. It’s art for the sake of art, which makes a massive difference. Things are allowed to be there for no reason other than Amelie and Felix like them.

So now that we’ve established that

How would they redecorate the mansion if given the chance?

1. Lean into the Art Déco aesthetic for a much needed dose of actual (yet elegant) fun. There are so many lines and curves to play with to get rid of this feeling of imprisonment we get from the pillars!

2. BLOW UP THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. No, really. We can find a much cuter, less pretentious alternative to whatever kind of power trip that was.

3. Get rid of the stupid bars on all those windows. Replace them with literally any other option that doesn’t make you want to choke on a pancake.

4. Also, get some lamps. Lamps EVERYWHERE, on the walls, on the ceiling, on the furniture. The resident vampire is GONE, we can have some goddamn light in this goddamn place.

5. Indulge in the pleasure of buying things just because they’re pretty. Trash the paintings and put up some actual art (abstract or not) instead. Exorcise Emilie’s ghost and Gabriel’s tacky tastes out of this place. This process has already begun, given that the statue in the garden is now gone!

6. Let Adrien decorate his own room, and have fun with it. This part may be tricky because our boy doesn’t know what he wants, but you know what, it’s part of the process! Giving him total creative control over his own space is a first step towards his making bigger decisions for himself, like choosing what he wants to be when he grows up. As requested by my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ @paracosmicfawn, he can also redecorate the entryway, which carries sooo much trauma for him. Maybe he can put up some cute cat statuettes along the new staircase, or something equally cheesy.

7. Build a pool, apparently

8. Last but not least, block all accesses to the basement and the attic. Hide them behind these new Kandinsky paintings they just bought. Pray to Gimmi Adrien never finds out (he will).

And that, my friend, is how you take a prison and turn it into a home full of secrets!

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

Haven't heard from you in a while, hope you're doing well! <3

Hey, nonnie - I'm doing alright. Personal ramble below the cut. Skip if you're just here for fanfic reading and don't care about my silly little melodrama.

Not going to go into too much detail, but I've been really feeling the depression lately. For context, I have clinical depression and take a really high dose of antidepressants, which fuck with other aspects of my life (i.e. weight and lack of sleep). Medical consensus is that I'll need medication for the rest of my life as my brain does not perform the appropriate mood-regulating functions (I'm not super sure what the specifics of this are). I've struggled with low feeling, demotivation, SI/SH etc. for nearly nine years now. I've slipped into a bit of an episode lately - not necessarily related to being online but Tumblr is a part of it - but I'm trying to work my way out of it by picking up some new-old hobbies, such as crochet, and doing things that I like and that don't stress me. I'm safe and don't have the opportunity to action any of my feelings, so please don't worry about me!

Unfortunately, Tumblr has been a source of stress for me since I've come on here. I've made some downright terrible choices in friends, in behaviour, in the amount of energy I commit to this space, and the only one who can really break this cycle is me. This site hosts a really wide range of personalities, and I just... feel like I've encountered some of the absolute worst among all of that, and it's done me absolutely no favours when it comes to making good choices. We all say that as adults, we should know better, but there's no sudden switch that flips, you know? We spend our whole lives making mistakes and learning from them. Adulthood isn't the abrupt entry into moral infallibility, and that's been something I've had to address and work through when it comes to my own failings.

To be perfectly honest, Tumblr isn't a supportive place. Or the people aren't. I don't really know which. To clarify, I do generally speak of the community of artists and writers in this, not the people here who just want to enjoy art or read someone's fanfic. I suppose there's a certain level of - I don't know - self-centredness? - when it comes to creating an online presence and sharing one's own creations on the internet. That mentality, I think, bleeds over into feelings of entitlement in creative communities. Entitlement to other people's time, to people's attention, to people's promotion, and when one doesn't get that, the problems start: (best to worst =) transactional interaction, badmouthing, hate anons, public bashing, and the list goes on. I've definitely been someone who has been upset by people's lack of interaction. I've responded with "oh, I'm not reblogging until they reblog mine" more than once. We all know that I've been involved with badmouthing and publicly bashing others. I continue to be very ashamed of this, and I am honest with myself about what I've done and how I got there in my journey working through my problems and making meaningful change in my life.

Anyway, point is - I'm trying to divorce myself from the entitlement, and I think to do that I need to divorce myself from the notion that we exist as a community. I've put far too much effort into that idea, and it's gotten me absolutely nowhere. There are more people who dislike me than not. Most just straight-up ignore me. I deserve it, sure, but (or maybe and) I have no intention of continuing to engage in a space that either doesn't exist or where I'm not wanted. I've felt anxious and upset at the mere thought of going on Tumblr the past few months. It hasn't been bringing me joy anymore, and that was the whole point of it. There's so much bad blood associated with being on here, but I love writing. I love this show. I can't give up something that makes me so happy in every respect other than this one site.

So I've taken some time off, reassessed the way I'm intending to use this space, and I've essentially decided that I started it for me so I'm going to do it for me. I'm going to interact with who I want and post what I want and damn absolutely everyone who tries to police me (of which there has been A LOT - apparently I have a "responsibility" to support others which I now know is actually code for "I'm jealous that you're getting any kind of attention online, so instead of addressing my issue with this, I'm going to vaguepost about/anon/DM you to try and guilt you into giving my work attention so that maybe it'll transfer to me").

For the casual peruser, no change at all. But I'm done giving my effort to the idea of 'community'. It doesn't exist, or I don't belong. I am going to do what makes me happy now, and only what makes me happy. That's the whole point. I'm sick of focusing on negatives. I'm sick of posting about them, to be honest. I think this mindset will do me good.

If you've gotten this far, I hope that it's okay that I've decided this. I'm feeling positive about it!

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 24

June 29, 2020

Today I discovered the true meaning of happiness.

I’ve never been a happy person. I don’t consider myself a cynical or bitter person, though, despite what my mom or some other people may think. I try to treat people as well as I can, even though I think I’ve had a difficult life. Not impossibly difficult, mind you, but not easy either.

Out of all my friends and former partners, for example, I’d say that I’ve had the most difficult life, at least in terms of socioeconomic obstacles—basically a permanent lack of money—which somehow never hindered my development in many senses. I had many saving graces, on other hand. My family is the most functional out of all those that I’ve come to know but, even then, that doesn’t mean that it was really all that functional.

I think that, in perspective, I’ve been dealing with depression since my early adolescence. There were many factors that contributed to it but, of the top of my head, the most relevant are: hard bullying since late middle school (and throughout high school), plus some bullying and isolation during primary school as well. My mother’s untreated depression and my father’s psychological abuse, mostly in the form of stonewalling, gaslighting, and angry outbursts. My general isolation, loneliness and, I must say, the general feeling that I was always misunderstood.

This last point I think bears some expansion. I don’t know how common this, but I often daydreamed as a child that this was not my “real” family. That I had been adopted or was from somewhere else (Faërie or even another planet) or some such contrivance, inspired no doubt by the stuff I read in novels and watched in soap operas.

As the years passed—and my innocence, slowly but surely faded away—I came to accept the reality of my existence. This was my life. This was my family. These were my mother and father. And, I don’t think I realized it until very recently, this was a huge disappointment for me that I never truly recovered from. This feeling had little to do with my family and everything to do with me. And, specifically, my body and, as I’ve come to realize, my gender.

Today I was bored and alone, enjoying the last day of a long weekend, and because of an ad on social media (I think), I ended up downloading an app which allows you, among other things, to generate an "opposite gender" version of a photo.

With trepidation, excitement, and a sudden nervousness that wasn’t there before, I downloaded the app, as well one of my latest photos. I don’t take (or allow others to take) many photos of myself.

I uploaded this months-old photo into the app. The whole process must have taken a few seconds at most, but it felt way longer. Like, impossibly long. It felt like Christmas when I was a kid, when I’d be so excited about getting presents that I’d get literally sick of waiting.

And then the final picture appeared and I was done for.

I was smiling and then laughing. I got out of bed and started pacing around the apartment with a joy that I hadn’t felt in… Weeks? Months? Years?

Maybe ever?

I really believe I cannot faithfully put into the words the sheer joy, the absolute and perfect happiness that overcame me in that moment. It must be so little, so minor to you, but it meant everything to me.

[Note from the future: In retrospect, this was probably the moment that I realized, perhaps on a subconscious level, that I was trans. Cis people don’t get this level of joy, I think, when they see a photo of themselves.]

There are things I need to clarify here, I think. First: the joy had little to do with me looking “good” and everything to do with feeling like this was the first time I identified with a picture of myself. It felt like every other photo was of someone else that I’ve come to accept a myself but that, deep inside, I know is not me.

A poorly modified picture of myself that shows what I could look like if I were a woman is the best gift I’ve ever received, the greatest source of genuine, unadulterated happiness I’ve encountered. And this being so small yet so significant is, for me, the greatest clue that there is something important underneath it. My instinct tells me that I need to pay attention to this. That I need to investigate this, to get to the bottom of it.

What started as mere imagination and daydream has turned into something more. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch, a seed that has taken root and is growing, fast and strong and untameable. I have a feeling that, no matter what I or anybody else tries, it will be impossible to uproot.

Still, this must remain my secret… At least for now. Maybe one day I’ll feel confident enough to share it with someone in the dark of the night. in whispers that are never acknowledged under the light of day.

Until then, with love,

ZZ

[fahye]

Hey! I really enjoyed the Last Binding books, and I am dying from impatience for A Power Unbound! I'm also a writer (unpublished), and I was wondering about your stance on posting info about WIPs on tumblr. I haven't done it yet, and I'm hesitating because I don't want it to be stolen. At the same time, it may be good to interact with others about my story, and maybe start to build a small community of potential readers. Do you think it would be a good idea, or that I should refrain until I have a contract with a publisher, or at the very least an agent?

oh boy. this one got long.

if you're mentioning agents and publishers then I assume you're hoping to be traditionally published, so my advice is based on that. (if you're looking into selfpub then that's a whole other ballgame, about which I don't know a great deal.)

it's very very normal and natural to want to interact with people about your WIPs. you want the story to feel finished and real. you want a tiny sip of a sample of how it might feel to have other people read your beautiful complete book and come and tell you their feelings and thoughts.

(it's also GREAT procrastination from the really difficult part, which is....writing the damn book, editing it, and grimly entering the querying trenches.)

but I don't know if tumblr, or any public social network, is the place for it.

I'm assuming you're not talking about putting entire chapters online. (bad idea. BAD. publishers are strict about what counts as prior publication of a story, and unless you were a viral selfpub sensation they usually don't want something that's been published - even in part - online.)

if you share all the details about the plot, or even a really killer hook of a premise that you're proud of: yeah, you do run the risk of it being stolen, and maybe that person writes faster than you and gets it out into the publishing ecosystem first. likely? probably not. possible? sure.

the other half of the argument is arguably even more important, albeit a bit depressing: you're not going to build a community on tumblr of potential readers of an original idea. especially one that doesn't yet exist. or that does exist, but perhaps will never be available for them to read, if the agent/publisher thing doesn't work out.

the exception to this might be if you already have a community of readers, and you're okay with your fandom and authorial personas being directly linked. perhaps you do! perhaps you're a fan writer with a following of readers! in which case I don't think there's any harm in being open & excited on tumblr about the fact that you're also working on original things and hoping to pursue publication.

here's my advice. you can make and post all the aesthetic boards and fun memes and spotify playlists your creative heart desires! do it for yourself, to keep yourself excited about the story. don't hang your heart on anyone else caring about your beloved blorbos yet.

and find a community of people at your career stage. I had a lot of friends who grew up in fandom with me and who were making the shift to original work at the same time. and one day a tumblr friend (hi @english-mace!) DMed me and offered an exchange of beta-reading for short stories, when we were both at the stage of being largely unpublished. and she then invited me into a small groupchat of early-career sff writers who became a great source of support and advice and indulgent listening to me enthusing about my blorbos and wailing about the tribulations of the tradpub process.

sometimes you're lucky. sometimes it's just a matter of asking your best one-or-two friends to let you bounce ideas off them and give you a little confidence boost. and sometimes you have to go looking. there are discords and slacks and facebook groups out there for aspiring writers: find a few, and go digging for your people.

I hope you find a community to share encouragement and joy with, anon. it's so, so hard to be at the stage of being halfway up the hill and bursting to share.

but you're still only halfway up the hill, and only you can get yourself to the summit. keep climbing. pause sometimes and make a beautiful gifset if it makes you happy. and then keep climbing.

good luck!

[obsoleteozymandias]

I’ve seen this a few times while perusing the Stardew tag and thought it seemed fun! As such, I’m looking for a Stardew Valley match-up, if you will; I’ve no preference for the gender of the match up (bisexual nation RISE UP!!!)

I go by He/Him pronouns. I’m a chubby/stocky man who often jokes about being the “tallest man on earth” (complete lie) (But maybe I am telling the truth… you’ll never know). I am autistic and I suffer from and am medicated for depression and anxiety. Other illnesses, such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, also run in my family, but I had never been professionally diagnosed with them. I have a debilitating phobia of dolls and some mannequins and puppets, to the point of nausea. I have chronic migraines.

I’m EXTREMELY heat intolerant, often times getting horribly ill when I do overheat. I take measures to make sure my room is always cool, and I even have some cool packs I rely on in the summer months.

According to MBTI (is that the right order for the abbreviation?) I’m an INFP. My big three astrological alignments are Pisces sun, Sagittarius moon, Taurus rising; however, my friends who are FAR more into astrology than I am say I seem more like an Aries sun (which is interesting, since I was born a week early— I would have actually been an Aries if I had been born on my actual due date).

I have only a few hobbies as of right now (video games, listening to music, and writing), but I have an abundance of new hobbies I would love to (and plan on!) getting into in the future (a couple include crocheting/knitting, building my own PC, and working/building with wood). I have a lot of struggles with reading, to a degree that makes me feel insecure a lot of the time; I worry it negatively effects my ability and love of writing, and it admittedly can feel a bit alienating at times when people I’m close with talk about the joy they get from reading.

I’m a BIG collector, to the point I don’t really consider it a hobby as much as I do a general part of my life; primarily, I collect stuffed animals! I sleep with a Snoopy Build a Bear every night, and get anxious when I don’t have him in my arms at night. I also usually bring a stuffed animal with me whenever I go out, since it helps me combat anxiety, and I just like holding something in my arms. I also enjoy collecting animal figurines, select Funko figurines (not limited to just Pops, and also only of media I already enjoy), as they don’t trigger my phobia in ways some figures do. I’m an out of box collector, and none of my stuffed is in “mint” condition— I collect for myself, first and foremost, and for the future generation second; everything is well loved, and will continue to be loved.

I’ve become a big “write that down” type of person as I’ve gotten older. I strive to be the guy people come to for notes for a video game they play, or perhaps for recipes that I wrote down even though I’d never make it myself since I’m a very picky eater.

As a kid, and even now, I dreamed of being an oceanographer; I love the ocean dearly, and I always will. I grew up playing the Endless Ocean games on Wii (side note: very excited for Luminous to come out!!!), which was the source of all my love and interest in the ocean. I love learning things I didn’t know about the ocean before, and love sharing my knowledge even more. I may not be able to drive a car, but I’d love to one day be able to have a boating license!

I’m a big animal guy!!! I grew up surrounded by animals all my life, and I’m a firm believer that a home isn’t a home without having an animal around that you can take care of, whether it be a dog, cat, turtle, or otherwise.

I have a moderate fear of going down stairs, as I can’t do it correctly (going down them one step at a time, body often veering off to the side and pressed up against the banister; no, I have no idea why I do this) and have fallen down them quite a few times. Luckily, I’ve never been seriously injured.

Cars also moderately scare me. I don’t like the idea of being in a fast moving box. This often causes embarrassing social blunders, because I reach up for the car handle when I get anxious. I promise it’s not because you’re bad at driving, driver!!!

I can make near-perfect imitations of select animal noises; I’m partial to my quacking noise, as it’s become something of a vocal stim for me. I can also bark and “purr”.

I hate lenticular lining (the thing that makes those images on bookmarks move or seem 3D)— the feeling and the sound it makes when you scratch it makes me feel sick!

I’m often described as an “old soul” by people in my life who are far more spiritual than I am. I don’t exactly know what that means, if I’m honest, but I know it’s a compliment and it makes me feel nice and warm inside when I am describes as such.

I’m allergic to cherries.

My biggest goal in life is to be the fun, supportive uncle/cousin if any of my friends or family ever have kids. I don’t foresee myself ever wanting kids, but I know that any children that would be introduced into my life would be loved and cherished by me. I’d love to sit and watch cartoons with them, or play games. I’d love to introduce them to the shows that I personally grew up watching, because I don’t find it fair for those shows to go overlooked and forgotten. They may already know Josh, but I want them to know Steve and Joe too. (And NO Cocomelon!!! That’d be my only rule).

Thanks for the surplus of info (/gen), it really helps me when writing. I ALWAYS prefer excess info to lack thereof. 

== Stardew Valley ==>

I match you up with…

Emily

Emily is exactly the kind of person who you’d want to know. She’s an oddball and may be a bit hard to understand at times, but she’s honest about herself and her hobbies, and will never judge you for yours. 

She won’t judge your fears either! I headcanon that while she is accepting of most everything, she has a few strange ones of her own. She’s open to exploring and expanding both of your horizons together, whether that means overcoming fears or just letting them be. 

She admires your unique tastes and personality first and foremost. She knows it can be difficult to connect with others who judge your tastes and likes, so she’s especially drawn to you and your energy. 

She also loves your love for animals and the ocean. I can imagine you two going on boat rides for dates, looking at the ridges and bumps on the ocean floor. 

Then, you go to Ginger Island and look at the local fauna and watch the sunset as the parrots fly across the sunset. She’s never been more content in her life. 

If ever you wanted to propose, that would be the time. 

And of course, she’d say yes. She’s never had someone understand her and connect with her like you do, and she can’t wait to spend the rest of her life with you. 

I imagine she’d join you on your fun supportive uncle idea. When your siblings or Haley have kids, the two of you spend tons of time running around with them on the farm or teaching them about animals.

[pebblysand]

1 and 4 from the fic asks :)

hello!! thank you!!

1. What's something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

oooh the tumblr police is gonna hate me for this but... chatgpt! yup, newsflash, i write with chatgpt.

but... there's a caveat to that. i recently heard an interview from alexandre astier (who is probably one of my favourite writers in the world) in hot ones where he was talking about the way he uses AI in his writing, and i could not agree more. the thing is: AI is a tool. it's a tool that, in a few years, will probably replace a lot of IRL jobs, mine included. it is also a tool that will sadly likely also replace a lot of writers who write content-mill-like articles or work for big production companies, because a lot of corporations will want to maximise profit. it is a tragedy.

but AI will never replace art. it will never replace writing. because as he explains, both as a consumer and a writer, what matters in art is the human aspect of it. artistic creation is the source of human connection, and art is only really interesting because it was made by humans. an AI could write ten times as beautifully as - well, him, one of my favourite authors, it wouldn't interest me as much, because i don't care about connecting with a computer. that computer doesn't share our human experience, it doesn't understand things like joy or excitement or depression. it doesn't create, it just writes.

so, i use AI ... as a tool. alexandre astier says he uses it to do stuff he doesn't like like keeping track of plotlines or dates - i actually like building my own outlines and trackers, so i don't use it for that. i do use it for things like: asking it to describe a place for me if i'm trying to find an angle for a visual description, as its one of my weakest writing skills. or, i'll use it to make up the name of a wizarding life insurance company because making up names of magical stuff does not interest me and i'd rather have a computer feed me one and move on than spend 30 minutes looking for it. and, honestly, it's turned out great! it's allowed me to spend the limited time i do have on writing stuff i actually enjoy, so i'll definitely keep using it.

4. what piece of media inspired you the most?

ohhh also a good question! it's hard to do a full year review cause honestly, most of last year already feels like a million years ago, but i'd say right now, i'm very inspired by Ren. if you are subscribed to the castles playlist, you'll know, cause he's been all over the playlist since november/december haha. i genuinely think about that money game part iii video daily. i listened to sick boi on LOOP when i was writing chapter 19 of castles, as well as how to be me. this guy is an actual genius and he writes so well it genuinely makes me ANGRY. i mean, like, i could quote a million lines but she never stood a chance, the devil comes to dance haunts me.

for reasons that i can't explain without spoiling my wip, i'm on hi ren at the moment, so i'll leave you with it:

[fr-martin-gospel-reflections]

15th December - ‘Someone is coming’, Reflection on the readings for Third Sunday of Advent (Luke 3:10-13)

Third Sunday of Advent

The shortest day of the year is only a week away now. I like the shortest day, because I know that this is as dark as it gets. Our ancestors built the passage tombs in Newgrange so that light would enter the darkness of the tomb only on the shortest day. It was their way of saying that light was stronger than darkness and life stronger than death. The feast of Christmas is celebrated a few days after the shortest day, as the light begins to return. Christmas is a feast of light, when we celebrate the good news that the light of God’s love shone in the darkness of our world with the birth of Jesus. The lighting of our Advent wreath speaks to this deeper meaning of Christmas. This third Sunday of Advent, we light the pink candle, to indicate a certain joy as we draw nearer to the joyful feast of Christmas.

This note of joy is there in the readings for this Sunday, especially in the first reading, the responsorial psalm and the second reading. Yet, the run up to Christmas is not a joyful time for many people, such as those who have lost a loved one in the past year. The first Christmas without a loved one can be very difficult. I remember being at a loss the first Christmas after my mother died. People can find this time of the year difficult for other reasons. The commercial pressure to make all kinds of purchases can leave people feeling financially vulnerable and that can lead to anxiety and distress. People who struggle with loneliness can feel especially lonely at this time when they see other people coming together to celebrate. Many people find the lack of light at this time somewhat depressing.

In that context, we might find it hard to take seriously Saint Paul’s call in today’s second reading, ‘I want you to be happy, always happy in the Lord’. Yet, Paul isn’t talking about a forced happiness in the face of hardship. The key phrase there is ‘in the Lord’. He seems to be suggesting that, no matter what set of circumstances we find ourselves in, we can find a joy that is rooted in the Lord’s relationship with us. When Paul was writing this letter to the church in Philippi, he was in prison and was very unsure as to whether he would leave prison alive. Yet, throughout the letter, he shows a great sense of joy which he wants the church to share. It is a joy that is rooted in his sense of the Lord’s loving presence to him. As he says in that reading, ‘the Lord is very near’. His sense of the Lord’s nearness gave him a joy which, from a merely human point of view, made little sense. Towards the end of this letter, he says something which spells out a bit more the source of his joy, ‘I can do all things through him who gives me strength’. It is one of those verses in the New Testament that I often find myself repeating, especially when times are difficult. When our resources are low, the Lord is there is give us a strength we don’t have of ourselves. When we find ourselves slipping into a sad and sombre mood, the Lord is there to give us a share in his own joy. That is also the message of the first reading. The prophet can call on the people to rejoice and to be strong and courageous, because, as he says, ‘The Lord your God is in your midst’.

In that second reading, Saint Paul goes on to declare that our prayer can open us up to the Lord’s strength, to his joy and peace. He says, ‘if there is anything you need, pray for it, asking God for it with prayer and thanksgiving, and that peace of God, which is so much greater than we can understand, will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus’. In prayer, we come before the Lord, very often in our weakness, and we open ourselves up to all that he can offer us, his strength, his joy and his peace. John the Baptist had a lot to offer people, and that is why so many people came to him asking, ‘What must we do?’ and why some even thought he might be the Messiah. However, John knew that Jesus had so much more to offer people than he had. That is why he said, ‘I baptize with water… he will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire’. The risen Lord stands ready to pour the Holy Spirit into our hearts every day, to ignite the fire of the Holy Spirit within us whenever we come before him in prayer. The Holy Spirit is the Lord’s strength and, as Saint Paul says elsewhere, the fruit of the Spirit is peace and joy and, above all, love.

If we were to ask, ‘What must I do?’ this Advent, today’s readings as a whole suggest that we need to open ourselves up to the Lord’s presence to us and among us and to draw from him the strength, peace and joy that only he can give. Then we will also be empowered to live in the loving, compassionate and just way that John the Baptist calls for in the gospel reading.

[rozinaaa]

You Can Cry, But Not For Long - An Exploration On Grief

Source: Unknown

Argh, February.

It's my least favourite month of the year, simply because it's the month that I have dealt with the loss of quite a few relatives now, all through no fault of their own, and through no fault of anyone else's actions, all which have happened at some point during February over the past couple of years, to the point where I'm starting to notice patterns, and where it's starting to become a huge unfortunate coincedence.

With February now comes with a lot of grief (February? More like Febu-worry that your loved ones are going to pass away), to the point where it simply becomes to too much to handle, and where grief randomly comes and hits you like a train going faster than the speed of light and sound combined, where mourning the loss of just one person feels extremely overwhelming and exhausting to the point where getting out of bed in the morning basically feels impossible, so I wonder how it feels for the ones who have lost multiple people at the exact same time.

It makes me feel for the ones who live in literal war zones, and the ones who have been forced to deal with warfare that has been going for longer than they've been around (mainly due to the land that they happen to live on and their nationalities/heritage), where they're forced to face death basically everyday of the year, but still somehow manage to find a way through it, even when everything and everyone has been taken away from them.

I think this leads me to the initial message of this post, which is where "you can cry, but not for long", meaning that you're allowed to feel the grief as it happens (although grief makes everything feel trivial and pointless at the time, where you're convinced that you'll never feel any joy or anything positive ever again), but that you also have to make room for other things in your life, so that it doesn't fully consume you and throw you down into an endless depressive cycle and endless downwards spiral.

One thing that seems to help me cope with all this is that emotions are like the weather, where you can't control them, they sometimes happen when you least expect it, and that the only thing you can do is to just let them happen as and when they happen, but you shouldn't dwell on them for too long, since it will prevent you from actually living your life.

I think I've got a fairly finicky relationship with grief, since I essentially mask it and cast it away to deepest parts of of my mind, although it's also because I'm the thinking type, and I've realised that emotions tend to get in the way most of the time.

Additionally, the fact that I essentially transitioned from a feeler to a thinker (I kinda officially made the switch at some point during the pandemic) is partially due to grief itself, where suppressing my emotions for the most part and focusing on being as logical and as rational as I can be has somewhat served as a coping mechanism for me, but even before the grief train existed for me, I have always preferred having a semblance of a routine and structure.

On top of that, I think that being around people who are too emotional, sentimental, and philosophical for too long becomes very exhausting, as I now have to deal with a load of emotional baggage that doesn't really concern me that much, but basically occupies my entire self for at least a day or two, which makes it feel like an eternity for me.

Perhaps grief is the reason why I prefer to be around people who are go-getters and people who are determined to do things in life, as well as being around others that are outwardly enthusiastic and passionate about life itself, where they know when they have to take themselves seriously, but also allow the time to get loose every now and then, since they're the ones that make life worth living, although the genuine ones are usually few and far between.

Maybe grief itself can serve as a reminder that life is insanely short, and that you have to make the most out of it (in a way that is sustainable to you), since this is basically your only chance at it, and that it can be taken away at any time, regardless of whether you're in sickness or good health, and regardless of how old you are.

I want to surround myself with positive people and I want to radiate positive energy (as well as being able to revive the positive, confident, and energetic personality that I had when I was younger, before life started to take a hold and before life started lifeing a bit too much), since I want to live the best life that I am able to live.

[foolsdiamond]

I'm like, 10 years into my ADHD diagnosis. At this point in my life, I would say I am very happy, my life is rewarding, and I enjoy waking up. I have a beautiful wife who I mesh with perfectly. I have time for my hobbies, even though sometimes I cannot work on them because I cannot control what my brain chooses to focus on. I have a home slowly filling up with paintings and artwork I've made and hung up on the walls, which still brings me joy to see how good I've done (even if in the moment, my art typically disappoints me). I have a stable full time job that is helping pay my bills. We have a new dog in the family, and are looking at buying a house (to be fair, I've been saying that for a month now, and haven't actually taken the first steps). I would say my life used to be miserable with ADHD, but not anymore.

I would have been diagnosed sooner if I wasn't such a high performer in school, even if I personally was struggling to complete homework assignments in a home setting, it could be explained as my home life being miserable (one of the two primary sources for my clinical depression) and it was never enough to bring my grades below a B, so I was off the radar.

I got my ADHD diagnosis off of two factors: one, my inability to control what gets my attention; and two, my extreme emotional dysregulation. For the first, it was largely not an issue for me; I would draw during class, I would draw during my free time at home, I would browse deviantART and RP with my friends online. It wasn't an issue for me to develop a hyper fixation, because my love of Homestuck only meant I was drawing more, and also straight up ignoring entire classes to read the webcomic instead (sarcasm, but my grades still didn't drop). But the partner I had at the time was getting increasingly frustrated with me not giving him my full attention, and honestly in hindsight, I didn't want to give him my full attention because I was secretly afraid of him.

For two, I was diagnosed with many potential issues, from a wide set of psychiatrists. Depression/Anxiety, it could be Borderline Personality Disorder, I have Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, etc etc. This is definitely affected by me being AFAB, and the codependent, toxic relationship I was in at the time. I never would have sought a diagnosis had I not been desperate for a medical reason to explain why I am the way I am, and I'm not just a neglectful partner.

What benefits have I seen from getting diagnosed? Well, I guess I could have used my medical ADHD diagnosis to get disability accommodations at work (in the US, the ADA means you're not required to demonstrate why you need accommodations, just that they be provided) but I was scared admitting "I have a legitimate disability that prevents me from regulating my circadian rhythm and I legitimately cannot detect my alarm clock, even when it's a tornado siren or when it's a vibrating alarm clock strapped to my forehead" would give my job justification to fire me instead of cut me some slack.

Medication? I tried a few, I tried Strattera and a generic for Adderall. Unfortunately, neither medication actually solve the symptoms I have issues with. They both leave me feeling high strung, hyper alert, and spiked anxiety. They didn't help me maintain my focus on the road while driving, for example. (Yes, I was practically falling asleep behind the wheel spacing out. I still do sometimes, just not as extremely as before)

Coping mechanisms? I mean, yeah, to an extent. The best thing for ADHD is lifestyle changes into having a consistent routine. Holy shit, I just remembered the 3rd major symptom I had that I used to get tested for ADHD. My memory is absolute garbage. I actually walked into a clinic to get tested and said "I have horrible memory, Im struggling to remember what other ADHD symptoms I think I've shown" and they sent me away; didn't even ask me generic ADHD questions. Just, bad memory? Not my problem lol.

Anyway, I couldn't remember to take my medication for my depression and anxiety, so I was constantly on and off of it. It meant I couldn't take a daily birth control pill either, because I couldn't keep track of what day I did. I tried pill counters. I tried calendar reminders. I tried sticky notes. I tried it all. So I tried to go on ADHD meds, as if remembering to take one medicine would fix my brain to remember to take the other lol

I could have reorganized that in, but I feel like it's important to demonstrate the flow of consciousness I have, as a good example of what having ADHD is like.

Anyway, back to coping mechanisms.

Having a consistent job helps; my jobs schedule isn't that consistent, so I developed a habit of checking my schedule the night before and setting my alarms based on it. Having a wife helps a lot; she's extremely good at routine and scheduling, and since I lack an internal drive to perform chores (boring things like Having A Clean Living Space aren't rewarding enough on their own, not quite like Video Game) but now I have an external motivation I've internalized: cleaning it for her. I don't draw as much as I used to, but I do a much wider variety of sets and crafts for fun. I cook and bake more now, for fun. I don't have a huge attention span for reading like when I was younger, so I don't do a whole lot of that. I have a story I'm "writing" (I have 80% of a rough draft down and 20% in my head, plus the skeleton to a sequel, but I haven't worked on it in actually several months). I'm never late to work anymore, I can wake up to my alarms when I couldn't before (it's probably related less to ADHD and more to my ex not allowing me to get more than 5 hours of sleep a night). Sometimes I still get overwhelmed if there's too much information happening at me at once, but I'm also autistic.

The question here isn't whether I think you have ADHD. I don't really care to diagnose you, nor do I think you have the typical signs (usually sharing completely random ideas that only your brain has drawn connections to, because it rapid-fired through 10 different references but only said point a and point j out loud). The question here is whether being diagnosed with ADHD would actually benefit you. I personally needed answers to the question "what is fucking wrong with me?" and sought to know. But if you're happy and satisfied with how you feel and how you're living your life, there's no reason to worry if you're neurodivergent and what flavor it is.

But people are going to continue to ask if you have it, because you're funny and relatable on the internet, and they assume they see themselves reflected in you.

Derin experiencing and writing the most ADHD-coded experiences taken straight out of the DSM: Not me tho I'm built different

I've been thinking about this and I think the reason that I'm so sure that my quirks aren't symptoms of anything is that all you guys who do have ADHD post about having utterly miserable unrewarding lives full of chaos and instability. My life is relatively chill, I find my writing and crochet to be very rewarding long-term (something which I'm constantly seeing ADHD posts about calling impossible for people with ADHD), I had no particular trouble with my Bachelor's degree or my Grad Dip and dropped out of my PhD only due to a stress-related heart condition (everyne with ADHD here seems to talk about how hard it is to complete higher education with ADHD). People with ADHD here talks about how ADHD makes long term commitments practically impossible; I've been doing my web serials for... what, 5 or 6 years, I think?... and while it's not fun every minute of every day (no job is), it's been perfectly achievable and I'm not likely to stop any time soon. People with ADHD here post about how they're always restless or bored or miserable; I tend to be pretty relaxed and generally happy. They post about how long term projects are horrible and they can't get pride or a sense of achievement from them, only a sense of relief that it's over; I do get a sense of relief when something's over, but I'm looking at the huge patterned blanket I crocheted a couple of years ago right now and feeling pride in it. They post about having highly addictive personalities; the only things I'm addicted to are caffeine and this fucking webbed site. I get bored with predatory 'addictive' games immediately. I was academically very successful in school, was able to focus on things like reading for long periods of time (I'm less good at that now but I think that's the effect of the internet on my brain, not anything intrinsic), and while I do tend to be a very disorganised person I've never been disorganised enough that it's caused me serious unresolvable issues.

My life experiences just do not match up with the experiences espoused by people with ADHD. Life is neither incredibly hard nor miserable for me. I just happen to also be absent-minded.

[cassidyjo100]

Book and Documentary

As stated before, I found many sources from the Kutztown Library about Polio. This includes two books that I have found and two documentaries. I only read one of the books and I only watched one of the documentaries. Both of these sources helped me greatly in my research of Polio and Dr. Salk.

Let's talk about the book first. The book is called Jonas Salk Beyond the Microscope. This is a ten chapter book that explains Dr. Salk's research and how he came to be in the lab. The author, Victoria Sherrow, uses statistical facts in the book to prove the credibility of the information. While she explained what Dr. Salk was saying in his research, she used pictures to help the audience understand it more. She uses pictures and diagrams for the bacteria cells and the Lytic Life Cycle. This can help an audience who does not know anything about biology come to a better understanding.

In the first few chapters, Victoria explained what the Poliomyetis disease was and how it affected children and babies. She then goes on to explain Dr. Salk's life during the pandemic of Polio. At the end of the book, Sherrow talked about Jonas Salk's last days in the lab. Near the end of his science career, Dr. Salk tried to come up with an AIDS vaccine. As you can see Jonas Salk Beyond the Microscope can provide me with a ton of information I can use for future use. The book is an easy read especially for people who do not know a lot of things about biology. It has a lot of visual supports for a clear comprehension of Polio. For example, on one of the pages she has a picture of a child recovering from the paralysis of this crippling disease. The pictures really opened my mind and were a good idea to add into the chapters. This allowed the audience to understand the severity of this disease and also showed them what it was like living with the aftermath of the Polio.

The documentary also had a lot of facts that appealed to the audience. During the documentary, they showed pictures and videos of the children living with polio. The directors presented you with pictures of the iron lungs, children in the braces, and pictures of scientist hurrying to find a cure. The documentary also showed videos of children trying to walk in the braces. Throughout the documentary, the producers interviewed survivors of polio. They asked them what it was like living with it and how they were treated as a child. This showed ethos to the audience because the survivors are trusted sources without bias. As an audience, we were able to gain information from someone who experienced the disease. I feel as if the interviews with them specifically really grabbed my attention.

Throughout the documentary, they had clips of a former science editor named, Victor Cohn, pop up. It showed us glimpses of an interview he had. Cohn talked about what life was like when he was writing the article about the vaccine. He talked about the public and how they reacted with joy to the medical discovery. This gave the audience a view of what the public was going through rather than just the scientist point of view. The directors also included additional information about the history of Polio. The documentary had a narrator who talked about where the disease originated and how it spread through society. While the narrator talked, the show played a slow beat song that showed that it was a depressing time for families. The narrator talked about the deaths of children and how many were paralyzed while showing the pictures of them. This caused the audience to have a lot of emotions.

As for me, I felt very sad for the people and I also felt like I was there in the moment. Polio in general is a very sad disease that took many lives. Watching this documentary, made me feel more emotional especially with the pictures/videos and the music. If you want to watch a show that has a lot of credibility/factual information then this documentary from the History channel is worth watching!

[wingless-thrush]

Impossibly Imperfect

(The following is an edited version of a personal blog originally posted on 10 May 2012.)

I lived in Asheville, North Carolina for a couple years while growing up, which is located in the mountainous western part of the state. Our neighborhood was perched on the side of Beaucatcher Mountain, and was comprised of a lot of hilly, windy streets. One particular neighborhood street was especially steep, with a sharp S-curve at the bottom of a long, straight hill. Just beyond the S-curve, the terrain dropped off dramatically into a rugged, wooded ravine. If the street had been a busier road, it would be one of those notorious stretches of highway that has a nickname like Death Hill or Blood Alley.

As it was, the street didn’t have very many houses on it and was lightly traveled by cars, so it became a favorite spot for us to play. I’d pull my red Radio Flyer wagon to the top of the hill, climb on board, and then ride at top speed down the hill, with the wind blowing in my face. The feeling of flying downhill was as ecstatic as the first big drop on a roller coaster, but was tempered with the very real danger of missing the curve, flying off the pavement, and ending up broken and bloodied at the bottom of the ravine.

The memory of flying down that hill in a Radio Flyer wagon at high speed, with a near-certain bloody and painful death at the bottom of the hill rapidly getting closer, has become somewhat of an unfortunate metaphor for my love life over the years. The whole realm of relationships and sexuality has been a very difficult one for me, and it’s not without a degree of hesitation that I write about it here.  While I do a pretty good job at maintaining close friendships with quite a few attractive women, things always seem to fall apart whenever there’s a hint of romantic feelings involved.

Part of it may have to do with the uptight Calvinist background I grew up in, where sexuality was hardly ever discussed except in the context of there apparently being far too much of it on television and in popular culture. And then there’s the fact that I was sexually abused as a child, by an older neighborhood kid who promised to allow me into his “club” if I performed certain acts down in the woods behind the house. Somehow my membership card to his secret club must have repeatedly gotten lost in the mail, because I kept having to go through the initiation process over and over again.

I'm also mildly autistic with some related mental health issues like anxiety and depression, and that no doubt plays a big role as well, even though I never knew I was on the spectrum until I was well into adulthood. Nowadays I can do a pretty good job of pretending I’m at least somewhat normal, but as a kid I was clueless. Nobody really had a name for my condition at that time; I just assumed I was a weird misfit due to some horrible character defect on my part. While my classmates were playing with their Transformers or G.I. Joe action figures, I was usually off in the corner sketching pictures of bridges and spaceships. A few years later when they were having their first sexual experiences, I was still sketching (slightly more refined) pictures of bridges and spaceships. It’s not that I didn’t have sexual feelings or wasn’t incredibly attracted to certain girls at school; it’s just that I was too chickenshit to actually act on those feelings. My classmates assumed I was gay or asexual, and bullied the living shit out of me accordingly. During bus rides home in 5th grade, a few of the popular kids would corner me in the back of the school bus and ask me invasive questions about my sexuality. If they didn’t like my answer, one of them would give me a swift punch in the stomach.

As you might imagine, relationships and sexuality – things that, in an ideal world, should be sources of joy and happiness for those involved – had come to be strongly associated with feelings of guilt, shame, rejection, and violence in my mind. When you crash the Radio Flyer wagon into the ravine too many times, you start to dread the idea of hauling it back up the hill for another ride.

Fast-forward to this past week, when a random bit of news during my workday brought back vivid memories of a time when I flew down that metaphorical hill way too fast, and ended up crashing into the ravine in a most spectacular manner.

As it turns out, a former crush of mine is getting married on Saturday, and not to me. You’d think I’d be over it after almost a decade, but this one really stung. For a few months in late 2002 and early 2003, “Jennifer” and I had developed what I considered a pretty deep long-distance relationship, which culminated in her flying to Philadelphia and meeting up with me during her spring break.

I’ve always had a pretty specific picture in my head of what my ideal partner is like, and it was uncanny just how close she came to that mental image, in a number of important ways: her intelligence, her emotional maturity, her overall great looks, and so forth. Nobody else before or since then has come quite so close to my idealized version of Miss Right. I was much more religious back then than I am now, and I was convinced she was the gift from God that I had been praying for almost my entire life.

I’ve always been drawn to the unique and unusual. In a neighborhood full of bland McMansions, I’m the guy who would buy something like the Mushroom House. Whenever I’d get a handful of candy corn around Halloween, I’d always pick out the mutant pieces and eat them first, because they were special and stood out from the others. I was somehow convinced this made them taste better.

Likewise, for as long as I can remember I’ve been fascinated by and found beauty in people with certain unique physical characteristics – even something as relatively minor as having a pair of webbed toes – but particularly with people who are missing one or more limbs, either by birth or through circumstances later in life. Jennifer wasn’t the first amputee I’d felt romantic feelings toward, and she likely won’t be the last. The first crush I ever had was toward Carol Johnston, a gymnast who was born without part of her right arm. Her story was the subject of a Disney film I saw on TV while growing up, and I was enthralled with the shape and movement of her partial arm, which ended with a small, round stump just below her elbow. (Carol is almost old enough to be my mother, but she appeared much closer to my age in the film, which had been produced a number of years before I saw it.) Jennifer was completely armless, not unlike Simona Atzori, an Italian artist and dancer who was also born without arms. No stumps or even scars, just perfectly smooth shoulders where a pair of arms would normally begin. Her use of her feet for daily tasks was as fluid and natural as most people’s use of their hands. I’d gladly pick somebody like her over any number of plastic-looking supermodels.

There’s a lot more to it than just the physical attraction, though. What I find equally appealing is the fact that people like Jennifer have a unique story to tell, that they know what it’s like to be different and to overcome obstacles. My favorite people in the world are those who strive to overcome life’s challenges with grace and humor, and who embrace their own uniqueness. This might be the one element that all my closest friends have in common, regardless of how many limbs they have.

An army of therapists could spend countless hours speculating on all the reasons why I have these feelings, and still not come up with a satisfactory answer. I wouldn’t really call it a fetish, although sexual attraction is certainly one part of it. I’ve always felt different throughout my life, and I think maybe I find a kindred spirit in somebody who is as different on the outside as I am on the inside, and who has spent a lifetime overcoming obstacles and dealing with other people’s stares and clueless comments, as well as more mundane things like a lack of wheelchair ramps or doorknobs that are difficult to grasp. To be clear, the attraction has nothing at all to do with any hardship or suffering that comes with being an amputee. I’ve had a few close friends over the years who are amputees, and I wouldn’t wish those phantom pains, ongoing medical issues, or the cost of a prosthetic limb on anybody.

As you might imagine, being attracted to amputees brings forth a lot of conflicted feelings that include heavy doses of shame and guilt. Pop culture values physical perfection to an obscene level, and people don’t like to be reminded that they might someday lose a leg in a car accident, or give birth to a child that has less than ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. Veterans who lose limbs in combat are either swept under the rug and ignored by the people who sent them into combat in the first place, or are maybe put onto a pedestal and briefly worshipped as folk heros – but never portrayed as the guy next door who lost his legs and a couple of close friends to a roadside bomb, and who still has nightmares about it. But I didn’t choose to have this attraction any more than Jennifer chose to be born without arms, and I reject the notion that I should beat myself up over an aspect of my psyche that I never willingly signed up for.

Soon after high school, my family got a computer, and I was introduced to this new thing called the Internet for the first time. After dialing in to AOL and doing a couple of creative searches (I’m really dating myself here), I soon discovered that I’m not the only person who has this attraction; people like me are typically referred to as devotees within the community. (The phenomenon also has a very dry technical term: Acrotomophilia.) Personally, I find the terminology inadequate – the term admirer has also been tossed around, which I find more apt – but for better or worse, devotee seems to be the accepted label.

How do amputees typically feel about this attraction? Opinions vary widely. Some find it very flattering and liberating; a common sentiment is that it’s nice to be seen as an attractive woman with no caveats, as opposed to being seen as attractive despite a disability. Others find it extremely repulsive and threatening, feeling that devotees are getting their jollies from what for many amputees is the most painful and traumatic episode of their lives. Most amputees’ feelings probably fall somewhere between those two extremes, perhaps accepting of the attraction despite some reservations. As a gross generalization, my experience is that amputees who were born that way tend to be more accepting of the attraction than those who lost a limb later in life due to trauma or disease. It’s a very controversial issue within online support groups and other amputee-related communities, with very passionate feelings on all sides of the issue. The purpose of this post isn’t to change anybody’s mind about it, but to simply articulate my own feelings.

Back in the 90’s there used to be a small online community of devotees and devotee-friendly amputees, mostly on IRC and an email listserv. There were even occasional real-life gatherings, and a number of marriages have come from those meetings. With a fairly intimate community it was easier to keep the predatory elements away, of which there are unfortunately quite a few. In the amputee-devotee subculture, the bad apples usually consist of guys who get off on some sort of power trip by being with somebody they perceive as helpless, or people who live out their fantasies by pretending to be amputees online.

Unfortunately, with the explosion in social media such as MySpace and then Facebook over the past few years, what used to be a fairly tight-knit and self-policing internet subculture has become a free-for-all, with some devotees pursuing amputees with all the grace and chivalry of the Nazgûl pursuing the One Ring, and ruining it for those who have better social skills and more honest intentions. There are still some vestiges of the old community left, but it’s a pretty small and isolated group with relatively little in the way of new blood.

I know of a number of amputee/devotee couples who couldn’t be happier. I also know of devotees who have gone their entire lives without finding their ideal partner to settle down with, and I know of others who ultimately married non-amputees only to find themselves depressed and frustrated, and their marriages failing. As for myself, it certainly makes things difficult because my ideal dating pool is a tiny fraction of the general population. I can go months or years at a time before seeing an attractive female amputee out in public, and the whole online scene is a crapshoot. On the rare occasion I see an attractive amputee out in public and I fail to make any kind of meaningful contact with her (which is almost always the case – I universally err on the side of keeping a respectful distance and doing nothing, rather than annoying her with any awkward advances), it can haunt me for months or years after the fact.

Mind you, I’m still very attracted to able-bodied women as well. The longest relationship I’ve had so far was with somebody who wasn’t an amputee, and I don’t regret a minute of it. But in looking for a long-term relationship or marriage, I face a bit of a dilemma. When I was in that relationship, there was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wasn’t being true to my feelings and that I was “settling” for something that was less than my ideal, and I was overcome with feelings of guilt. I didn’t feel like I was being fair to either her or myself. Nobody likes to be told they’re a second choice.

Jennifer seemed flattered by my unusual form of attention, and I was thrilled with the idea that after so much longing and searching, I had finally found somebody to share my life with. But the day after she arrived in town and we first met face-to-face, she called me up at work just a couple hours before we were supposed to meet again, and slammed the brakes on any notion of a relationship. She never did give a clear reason, but seemed to imply that she wasn’t ready for a relationship and that the chemistry didn’t feel right.

On one level it was understandable, as there was a pretty significant age difference between us, we had different backgrounds and ambitions, and lived a couple thousand miles apart. At that moment on the phone, though, I felt like a bomb had just been detonated within my already-fragile psyche. I blame myself for getting my hopes up too high in the first place, but that euphoric feeling of being head-over-heels in love was incredible while it lasted. For a brief few weeks, I felt like I was racing downhill in that Radio Flyer wagon, and the S-curve and ravine were no longer a threat. I haven’t experienced anything like it since then, and part of me wonders if I ever will.

She said she wanted to remain friends, and held out the idea that maybe sometime in the future, things might work out between us. But it never happened. The phone calls and online chats became less frequent, and then stopped altogether. My greetings went unanswered, and after a lot of heartbreak and depression on my part, I eventually moved on. She became somewhat of a minor media celebrity with her motivational speaking gigs and other accomplishments, and I continued quietly making slow but steady progress toward my academic and professional goals.

I had pretty much put that episode out of my mind until now, but learning that she’s getting married this week brought it all back. In all honesty, I wish her the best, and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, I can now look back and see about a million reasons why things never would have worked out between us. As painful as it was for me, she probably did the right thing by breaking it off sooner rather than later.

So now I’m spilling my guts here, mainly just to get it off my chest and hopefully gain some catharsis, but also to shed some insight into an aspect of my life that, until now, I’ve kept pretty private. No doubt some parts of this blog entry dove pretty far into TMI territory for some, but I’m hoping the benefits outweigh any negative blowback. A few of my closest friends already know about this side of me, and seem generally accepting of it, even if it’s impossible for them to fully understand it.

One of my resolutions for the new year was to try and let go of some emotional baggage that I’ve been carrying around my neck like an albatross, and this is part of that process. With people all over the country being denied equal rights and bullied to the point of suicide because of who they love, it seems hypocritical for me to champion their rights while keeping my own sexual proclivities safely tucked away in the closet, out of danger. Maybe some good will come of this blog post, and there may be some negative consequences as well. But I think I’ve reached the point where I’m finally willing to stop living in fear of the what-if scenarios, and to let the chips fall where they may.

[221bshrlocked]

taste you on my tongue

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 9441 (I can’t fucking write anything shorter I’m sorry)

Warnings: Angst and Smut. Helmet is on and then it’s off. Oral (male receiving). Soft then rough sex. Breeding kink. Touch kink. Hand kink? Dirty/Sweet Talk. Mando feels primal when he sees you wearing his shirt and flirting with someone that isn’t him.

Summary: The Revenant was a fairly spacious gunship compared to others and you prided yourself in keeping it running for this long, especially after you were told it would soon lose its “life force.” But when a certain Mandalorian and his foundling join your ship following a disastrous mission, you find that the Revenant isn’t as big as you initially thought. In fact, it is much less private than you wish to admit and you find yourself escaping to a cantina one night to avoid the bounty hunter who isn’t aware of the effect he has on you. The problem is, the Mandalorian doesn’t like to share anything with anyone, and that rule applies to you. Unfortunately (or perhaps luckily) for you, you learn about this rule the hard way.

A/N: I hope yall like these because I’m currently spiraling down a Din Djarin hole and I’m not remotely apologetic. Let me know how it is in the comments and how I can make the smut better or the characterization better. Please, I can’t improve unless yall tell me what I’m doing wrong. Also, I promise to write more smut than angst next time. Enjoy :) And @purple-mango​ sorry it wasn’t as rough as you probably hoped, I was feeling soft Din but mark my words, the next one will be rough.

The obnoxious laughter coming from one of the corners of the cantina made you shake your head as the tavern-keeper approached you and motioned towards your glass. He smiled when you enthusiastically nodded and held out the finished drink, silently asking him to pour some more of the Tevraki whiskey because there was nothing you wanted more than to forget the past few months.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was something, or rather someone, that you wanted more than your need to set aside what’s been going on since that shitshow of a showdown on Tatooine. Coincidentally, or perhaps ironically, that someone had to do with what happened on the desert planet. You smiled at the man in front of you who knew better than to argue about how many drinks you’ve downed thus far. 

As the thoughts slithered back to the source of your frustration, you couldn’t help but let your eyes take in your surroundings, shamelessly hoping to find someone who could fill that deep-seated need seeping through your chest and into your heart. No one would compare to him of course, and you knew that very well. But you couldn’t stand another hour on that ship without scratching that itch that’s been bothering you ever since he joined your ship with that annoyingly cute green goblin. You took a sip and returned your attention to the man wiping down the counter in front of you, already thinking of just skipping all the pleasantries and going back to his place.

“If you point him out to me, I can pay him a visit later and roughen him up a bit.” He leaned over and pointed behind you, pouring himself a shot of some weird blue drink before moving in closer to you again.

“Sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he was referring to or if you had even begun a conversation with him.

“The sleemo that rejected you sweetheart. Why else would you be drowning in my best stuff?” He winked at you and you barely managed to not visibly gag at the ways his eyes raked over your form. Did he think this was the way to flirt?

“Maybe I just love drinking liquid fire, sweetheart. Have you thought of that?” You hoped you weren’t being too sarcastic with him because if there was the slightest chance of getting laid tonight, then you were going to do everything in your power to take it and run considering how there was no chance of you asking your now-permanent “roommate” for those kinds of services. 

“Maybe. Either way, I’d love to help you forget about that sucker.” You took a deep breath and willed yourself to not punch him in the eye because the thought of being able to forget about the beskar-clad bounty hunter, even for a few hours only, sounded incredibly pleasant.

“Oh aren’t you sweet? So selfless and confident too.” You forced a smile before downing the rest of the whiskey and tapping on the glass again. If you were going to get fucked by someone like him, you needed at least three more drinks or else you wouldn’t be able to imagine the Mandalorian in his place. You chuckled at the depressing thought because here you were trying to forget about the man himself and yet went out of your way to make sure you were sort of able to pretend he was the one showing you the stars. 

“Believe me darling, my intentions are strictly...honorable.” He poured you another drink and took a shot with you, his eyes widening in shock when you didn’t bother to wait another second before downing the whole glass in one go. 

“Damn baby, he hurt you that bad?” You raised an eyebrow at his inquiry and didn’t know why the question bothered you so much. As much as you hated to admit it, the answer was a hard yes. 

“Hah, hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. And you know what the worst part is? He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” You didn’t bother to ask him for another drink, jumping on top of the counter before leaning down and grabbing the whiskey bottle from the shelf right in front of his knees. 

“You mean he’s still here?” He didn’t question your behavior, letting you take a long sip from the bottle before smiling down at your dazed expression. 

“Here. There. Everywhere. He’s fucking everywhere all the damn time. I...he’s- maker...I can’t get him out of my kriffing mind. And the funny thing is, he probably doesn’t waste a second of thought on me. I’m just...someone with a fucking ride that can get him from one planet to the next.” You traced random patterns on the cold tile of the counter and didn’t realize that someone had occupied the seat just opposite of you and trying his hardest to ignore the way the patrons across the room continued to stare at you like you were a piece of meat. 

“Darling, he isn’t worth your time. You need someone that...appreciates you. Tells you how good you’ve been.” You knew the man in front of you was just saying those lovely things to get in your pants but you couldn’t help the next few words from stopping even if you tried.

“Yes...gods, yes. Yes I do. But I wanted him to appreciate me. I wanted him to tell me how good I’ve been. I can’t blame him for not bothering to thank me though because it’s hard for him to hold a conversation longer than five minutes. I get that, he’s not used to it, he hasn’t needed to for so long. But it wouldn't hurt to acknowledge me every once in a while you know. I mean, do you know anyone else who’d willingly put their entire life on hold just to help some random introvert and his child find their way through this kriffing shithole of a system?” You knew you shouldn’t be saying any of those things out loud, let alone to a complete stranger. But he struck a nerve and you couldn’t take not another minute of not telling anyone how you truly felt. You needed to get some things off your chest and you sure as hell weren’t about to complain to the man waiting for you back on the ship.  

“And- and do you know anyone that would readily give up their most valuable position in this world to a stranger they just met? I don’t.” You violently shook your head at him and felt your eyes fill with tears when you saw the way the man was looking at you. His eyes shot down to the bottle in your hand and you unceremoniously raised it to your lips before taking a long swig of the burning liquid, hoping by some miracle that this was enough to make you forget all about his stupid strut and his annoyingly low and gruff voice and the way he was so effortlessly kind to the kid.

“That ship. It’s- oh gah, it’s been with me through the worst fucking jobs. I fought for it, almost sold my kriffing bo-...almost sold something priceless to ensure it isn’t taken from me again. And it only takes some damn beskar-wearing, quiet, fucking who-knows-what-species nerfherder to save me once for me to voluntarily hand it over to him. Like it wasn’t a piece of me...like it wasn’t my home.” You were over sharing at this point and you noticed the way the man was beginning to lose interest in you  so you made sure to grab his shirt and pull him closer to you before grabbing his forearm and digging your nails into it to keep his attention.

“Have you heard of the Revenant? You must have heard of the Revenant. There is no way you haven’t-”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard of it.” He was exasperated but continued to attend to you, shamelessly letting his eyes follow a drop of whiskey roll down your shirt in between the valley of your breasts. You fixed your posture, pushing your tits together and giving him an eyeful of skin before ranting to him again.

“That’s my baby. My pride and joy. I always made sure everyone at the dock knew who it belonged to. Know why?” You grabbed his hand and pulled on it to make sure he was listening to you, laughing when he tiredly leaned down and forced himself to look away from your sweaty chest to your eyes. 

“Enlighten me sweetheart.”

“Because it’s one of the biggest gunships out there. So much space that I don’t actually use. It’s a fucking beauty...but you know what? It’s all a lie. A sad, unfortunate lie. Because it took me spending the better half of the year with that kid and his tincan of a guardian to realize just how small it is. It’s like he put his mark on every corner of my home on purpose...just to drive me insane. Every time I sit somewhere where I’m sure he wouldn’t bother to come to, I’d still smell that- that...that fucking scent of his that I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what it is.” You had thankfully placed the whiskey bottle away from you and didn’t try to fight the tavern-keeper when he took it and put it back on the shelf, instantly returning to you to make sure you weren’t about to break anything.

“I even gave him my room. My room! Because ‘no one can see my face’ so he needs some privacy away from me but then there’s the whole ‘the child stays with me all the time’ and that womp rat can sleep in the little cot in my room with him while also giving him some privacy. Which leaves me, you guessed it, in the shitty lower deck where there is no door, not even a curtain, to give me some semblance of solitude.” You didn’t realize how harshly you were breathing until you stopped speaking and noticed the way the stranger continued to look at you. 

“It has been a literal hell not being able to get myself off because he can walk in on me at any given moment. Picture that, not getting off for almost a year while being forced to remain in the same vicinity as him.” You didn’t care when you saw the man almost choke on his drink at your bold admission and looked around to make sure no one heard you. “Ughh, you’ve been such a good boy listening to me whining all night long and I think you deserve a treat.” You knew you had him as soon as he shivered at the way your fingers moved beneath his shirt and scratched his neck. “You look like the kind of guy that could fuck me within an inch of my life. Right?”

“Ah huh. Y-yeah.” He licked his lips before setting down the towel in his hands and inching closer towards you. And you silently swore at how absolutely pathetic he was because not a minute ago, he was trying to find a way out of this conversation and here he was thinking with his probably-disappointing dick. 

“Good. And I promise to make it worth your while if you manage to make me forget his name.” You leaned across the counter and were about to kiss him when you saw something move across your peripheral vision, something that looked oddly familiar to your completely hazed mind. 

“And what’s his name, baby? So I make sure you can’t rememb-” Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, you felt a large hand wrap around your upper arm and pull you back from the bartender and off of the stool. You almost tripped as you struggled to stand and huffed in anger before raising your voice to the distinguished individual who thought this was the time to fuck with you. 

“Hey what are y-” You were about to take a swing at whoever it was currently bruising your arm when you followed the glint of the familiar metal and were met with your reflection staring right back at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you blinked in confusion a few times at the visor currently tilted in an almost judgemental manner at you before attempting to wipe your hair with your other hand.

The Mandalorian slowly changed his focus to the man behind the bar and threw a few credits at him, hands immediately lowering to the blaster in his side holster when he saw where the tavern-keeper’s eyes moved towards. The stranger could only hold up his hand in defeat before walking towards the other side of the bar to lick his invisible wounds. The Mandalorian’s helmet turned to the rest of the cantina, daring anyone to approach the two of you before you left. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to follow the two of you as you returned to the Revenant. He could feel his patience withering away with every passing moment you decided to share what’s on your mind with the rest of the universe but him. 

“Let me go.” You whispered to him, eyes maintained to the ground and cringing when you felt his hold on your arm tighten at the request. Before you could ask him again, Mando was turning around and walking out of the busy cantina, pulling you along with him aggressively and not leaving any room for negotiation. You winced as he pulled you like a child through the streets, avoiding the concerned and intrigued looks you were receiving. He was much taller than you and you laughed when you realized it must have been a sight to see some random woman getting dragged along by an angry bounty hunter. Mando couldn’t help but turn towards you when he heard your giggles break the silence, his annoyance spiking because there was absolutely nothing humorous about this situation. 

You noticed the way he was staring at you and decided to quiet down, swallowing the lump in your throat as the cold air hit your sweaty skin and made you shiver. 

As you moved closer to the ship, you realized there was a chance he heard what you had to say about him and your ship. Hurt and anxiety rose up your throat and before you could attempt and control the all too familiar feeling, you were tripping over your feet and falling to the ground, instantly vomiting everything you’d managed to eat and drink in the last couple of hours. 

The Mandalorian hoped his obviously misplaced outrage wasn’t what led you to such a violent reaction, and he kneeled down immediately to hold your hair away from your face. When he saw tears falling down your cheeks and how hard you were breathing beneath him, something snapped in his chest and he knew he was definitely the reason behind this severe response. 

“Don’t- oh gah….kriffing look at me.” You spat in between words and turned away from him, holding onto your stomach and to the grass beneath you as you continued to empty your stomach in the middle of the forest. At least you weren’t in the city anymore. 

“We’re close to the ship,” he didn’t know what else to say and chose to state the obvious instead, afraid of using a harsher tone with you. Actually, he did know what to say, he just didn’t trust himself to speak the words out loud yet.

“Wopty fucking doo for-” once again, you opened your mouth and dry heaved until you were sure there wasn’t a single drop of whiskey in your system, “you and your stupid kriffing-” 

“Please Ad'ika, let me-” You visibly shook at the familiar endearment you’ve heard him whisper to the child so often when he thought you weren’t around. It hurt to know he was throwing it around as if he wasn’t twisting the knife inside your heart with every breath he took near you. 

“Let m-me go, p-please.” Mando’s sudden intake of breath was as loud as the silence engulfing the two of you and you swallowed your pride before looking into his visor, well aware of how awful you must have looked without the reflection staring back at you. He, on the other hand, grasped in that moment just how deep your words in the cantina were and instead of listening to you and allowing you a moment alone, he took a deep breath before softly pushing back your hair and wrapping one arm around your waist. You didn’t have any time to question him as the other went beneath your thighs and before you knew it, you were holding onto his cowl for dear life as he quietly walked up the ramp of the Revenant with you in his arms. 

Mando pushed in the code to shut the hatch before making his way through the quiet halls of the ship, reaching hi- your room and going straight to the bed he has occupied in the last few months. As he put you down, he took notice of your body language and knew instantly how self-conscious you must have felt laying on the bed he’s been using since he joined you. The same bed which you sort of commented about not an hour ago. He watched as you forced a smile as soon as you saw the familiar green little womp rat peeking its head right before descending from the safety of his crib and wobbling towards you. 

You tried to leave the bed but Mando was ahead of you, gently pushing your shoulder until you realized there was no room for arguing with him. Leaning down, he took the kid and put him back in the crib before telling him he couldn’t cuddle with you tonight. 

You kept your hands clasped together and refused to look at him, eyes taking in the room no longer familiar to you. He’d moved things around, even put things away that he didn’t need. Your gaze shifted towards him unintentionally as you saw him approach you with a cup of water and wet towel. Pushing the covers towards you, he sat near your thighs as he handed you the water and began to softly wipe at your cheeks and forehead. 

You shut your eyes out of fear of giving more away just by staring at his visor and Mando thanked the stars you had because he wasn’t sure he could truly look at you if they were still open. It was a ridiculous thought because he was wearing a mask and you’d never know how much he loved committing all those little muscle twitches to memory. But it felt strangely intimate to return your gaze and he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable tonight. 

You sighed heavily at his touch and felt pathetic at how starved you were for anything that had to do with him. The man was wearing gloves and wasn’t technically trailing his fingers over your skin but it still felt difficult to contain yourself.

When he was done, he stood up and moved to the refresher, giving you a few moments alone before he imposed on you again. You gulped down the water and placed the cup on the floor near you, looking out of the large window to your right and noticing the dark blue skies moving slowly above you. It took you a few minutes to recognize that what you were feeling was no longer hurt but confusion. He’s acted so differently tonight and you hated to think it was because he was pitying you. It didn’t matter anymore whether he’d heard what you said about him or not. He would have found out sooner or later, and if you were being honest, you felt like he probably had some inclination for a while before but chose to not bring any attention to the topic to save you from embarrassment and rejection.

“Get some rest.” You turned towards him again, not realizing he’d come back into the room and was standing right beside you. Mando tried his hardest not to give away any of his thoughts but you knew what he was thinking as soon as you saw his helmet tilt down just below your neck. 

When you followed his line of sight, you felt ill again but for a completely different reason. Of course this would get worse. You weren’t planning on seeing him tonight and you told yourself you’d have plenty of time to change out of his shirt but it seemed that the universe was not making this any easier on you. Mando couldn’t stop staring at the shirt wrapped so loosely around your smooth skin and how large it looked on you. If he was a decent man, he would have turned away when he saw you shifting uncomfortably under his gaze but he couldn’t help taking in the way your body seemed to react to his presence and before he could think about it, he was stepping closer to the bed and reaching out to touch the material of his shirt falling down your shoulder.

“I- I’m sorry about your s-” The words died in your throat when you felt his gloved fingers trailing down your exposed clavicle and you were torn between asking him what he was doing and letting him carry on without interrupting his curiosity. Mando barely held himself back from pushing you down into the covers and taking what he now knew was his but he noticed the sudden goosebumps erupt on your skin and finally managed to meet your eyes through the visor. The way you were returning his gaze was perhaps too much for him and he flinched away from you, clearing his throat and willing himself to think of anything else but the way you were practically begging him to take you. You parted your lips to say something but couldn’t find your voice, afraid you’d push him more than he could take and drive him away all together. 

“It’s fine. It’s...I don’t mi- forget about it. You need to rest.” He spoke softly before walking towards the cot nearby and pushing the crib out of the door. 

“Wh-where will you sleep?” You sat up and knew he noticed how much you were holding onto every single interaction with him.

“Good night,” he didn’t bother to respond to the question, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him before making his way to the cockpit. You sat in silence for a few moments before slithering under the covers, sighing in annoyance when you noticed just how much this entire room smelled like him. Pushing your face into the pillow, you took a deep breath and felt shaken to the core when you were hit with Mando’s distinctive scent: sweat, beskar, and that damn featherfern wash he somehow found every time you flew by Nevarro. 

As you looked out the metal blinds, you tried to brace yourself for the conversation you were most definitely going to have with the Mandalorian the next day. You knew for a fact that whatever decision he’d take will ultimately hurt you because there were really only two options available, one of which involved him and the child leaving and the other would lead to them staying but making things awkward since there was not a single chance he would reciprocate your feelings. 

And the worst part was, you weren’t sure which was more painful.

The Mandalorian sat quietly in the cockpit for a while, making sure you were asleep so as to not wake you up as he moved through the Revenant. Seeing that the kid was fast asleep, he found himself leaving the small space and navigating to the lower deck. He passed by your room and noticed the lights were off, sighing in relief at knowing that you were finally resting comfortably. Arriving at the lower deck, he stood at the entrance of the large room and felt his chest tighten once he took in the state of the space. Turning on the lights, he immediately noticed your makeshift cot in the far right corner, unable to stop himself from moving towards it to inspect it. He shook his head in anger but this time it was aimed at himself and not you or the random tavern keeper who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

How did he not know of this arrangement? And why did he not ask about your sleeping situation the day he joined your ship? Was he truly that unconcerned with anyone else but the kid or was it because he was reluctant to listen to Peli when she recommended you?

He’d only been in the lower deck for a few moments yet he felt his skin crawl with goosebumps. It was awfully cool down here and it took him another ten seconds to acknowledge that you’ve been living and sleeping here for this long without complaining once to him. 

Everything you said about him earlier tonight crashed into him like a wave of guilt and he couldn’t stay in the room any longer, making his way back to the upper deck to try and figure out what he would say to you come tomorrow. As he slowly moved through the dark hallways of the Revenant, he heard a faint voice coming from the upper deck, muscles tensing instantly when he walked past your room and noticed you weren’t on the bed.

Not wanting to disturb you, he waited right outside the cockpit and listened to you humming to the child. He must have woken up and found his way back to you. As he crossed his arms and stood behind the door, he couldn’t help but notice how soft your voice was as you continued to sing a lullaby to the little womp rat. 

How could he have not noticed…

“There you go, you little green goblin. If only I could sleep as quickly as you.” You whispered to him before tucking him into the crib while continuing to rub his abnormally large ears. “Your dad is really funny...thinking I’d be able to sleep in that room with his scent all over it.” 

Maker, how were you so forthright with everyone but him? It hurt to know that he wasn’t someone you could whisper your little secrets to. Then again, it made sense since all of your secrets seemed to involve him.

“I pray he doesn’t tell me he has to leave now that he knows I...ughh, for both of our sakes little one.” Mando noticed the way you seemed incapable of finishing your sentences whenever you spoke about him and a deep part of him wished you would, if only to hear the adoration in your words. Rarely anyone spoke of him so softly and he had a feeling he’d only ever accept such words from you. It was quiet for a few minutes before he heard you whisper to the kid again. 

“It just hurts to know that he’ll never see me as...as a-” He wasn’t sure if it was the heartbreaking tone of your voice or if it was the way you were reluctant to say your heart’s desire out loud but Mando couldn’t stand another second of you thinking you weren’t important to him.

“As a what?” His voice came out harsher through the vocoder and he winced at himself when he vaguely heard you jumping from the chair. A soft hiss came from the cockpit and he took a deep breath when he realized you’d just shut the crib and moved to leave the room. As you stepped out, Mando forced his eyes to remain on your face, refusing to look at your exposed legs or the way his shirt seemed to end right beneath your upper thighs.

Softly shutting the door, you walked to the opposite side of the room and knew the Mandalorian must have noticed your need to put as much space between the two of you as possible. 

“We need to stop running into each other like this,” you laughed awkwardly and anxiously ringed your fingers, glancing at his visor before turning away and looking everywhere else but him. Okay, so humor wasn’t going to get you out of this situation. 

“How’s your head?” You could feel how on edge he was and decided to answer with short and straightforward responses just to avoid any more awkwardness. 

“M-much clearer.” You stood in silence until you heard the Mandalorian pushing off of the opposite wall and heading towards you. You didn’t have anywhere to go, eyes snapping to the door right behind him and knowing there was no way you could try to walk around him.

He stopped a couple of feet away from you and you ceased to breathe when you noticed how awfully close he was to you. 

“Answer my question.” His voice was dangerously low and you found it difficult to try and think of anything to say when he was giving you no room to breathe. 

“I- I did?” Your voice was far from confident and you watched as he gently took off both of his gloves before shoving them into his pockets. Even though he willingly removed them in front of you, you didn’t allow yourself to look at his skin, afraid you’d somehow offend him and his Creed. But then you saw his hand move towards your face, and gasped when you felt his fingers tilting your chin so you were looking into his visor. There was not an inclination of an emotion available to you but you forced yourself to keep your eyes open nonetheless. 

“How do you want me to see you Mesh'la?” Mando whispered down to you and you swore his voice was hoarse as he spoke to you but you didn’t allow this moment to get to your head. It would hurt more than anything if…

“It d-doesn’t matter.” You blinked away the tears, wanting to wipe your face before anymore were shed but not finding it in yourself to move away from him. But then you felt his thumb softly rubbing at your wet skin, making you almost lose your composure as soon as he stepped closer in your space until your back hit the wall. 

“I’m sorry Cyar'ika,” his chest was inches from your face, cornering you beneath his other arm before leaning down and resting his forehead against yours. You couldn’t breath, not when he was suddenly filling all of your senses as if it was the most natural thing to do. He felt your tears roll around his thumb and couldn’t bear the thought of you crying because of him.

“I’m sorry for making you think you don’t matter...you do, not just to the kid but- but to me as well.” Your knees gave out on you as soon as you heard Mando’s confession, barely managing to grab onto his forearms right before buckling against him. The Mandalorian wasn’t sure if that was the kind of reaction he was looking for but he immediately wrapped his arms around your back and legs before pulling you against his chest. You nuzzled into his chest and kept a tight hold on him as he walked through the dimly lit hallways back to your room. He could feel goosebumps take over the skin of your thighs where he was touching you and tried to distract himself from pushing you down into the middle of the Revenant and taking you right then and there. You deserved more than that. 

As he reached the room and laid you on the bed, he felt your fingers clasp onto him harder and when his eyes trailed over your face, he knew you were silently begging him not to leave. 

“I’m not going anywhere Ad'ika.” His reassuring tone tugged at your heart and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched him walk to the door and shut it behind him before moving to the refresher. You heard him shuffle around and allowed your mind to calm down, knowing very well that Mando wasn’t unkind and wouldn’t lead you on just to leave you. But then he walked out without his beskar armor and you swore you died and joined the stars. His helmet looked odd without his normal clothing and you knew he could probably see you shamelessly ogling him from across the room. 

He walked to you and stood to the side, and you realized he was probably nervous. You pushed yourself against the wall and threw back the covers, hoping he’d understand what you wanted of him.

“Can I-”

“Please.” You cut him off before he could finish his question and he took a deep breath before laying on the bed and moving as close to you as possible. Before he could throw the covers over the two of you, you were already laying your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around him, fingers fisting into the soft material of his shirt unintentionally as you felt him relax beneath you.

You weren’t sure how long it’s been but you felt his heart rate finally come back to normal. Hoping you weren’t being too forward with him, you took his hand into yours and brought it to your lips, softly kissing his knuckles before turning his palm over to lay a kiss on his wrist. Mando was losing every ounce of control left in his body and his arm tightened around your back as soon as he felt the tip of your tongue against his hand. 

“Pfassk,” you flinched at the rough expletive and raised your head to look at him, finding his visor already tilted down towards you. “I- I’m sorry I’ll stop if-”

“No..n-no, don’t stop. It just- you took me by surprise.” His chest was rising and falling more rapidly and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was as affected by this new level of ‘intimacy’ as you were, if not more.

You felt bold at his request, kicking the covers away before sitting up and moving to straddle his thighs. Mando was breathing harshly and mirrored your actions, sitting up against the cool metal of the wall before laying his hands on top of your exposed thighs. He let himself take in the way your skin flushed under his touch and smiled to himself when he continued to inch his smooth hands over your upper thighs until his shirt rid up your legs and revealed the pastel color of your undergarment. 

“Cyar'ika…” He sighed when he finally forced himself to meet your eyes and found them dilated until there was barely any color left in them. You wanted to ask him what that word meant but chose to file it for later. Placing your hands on top of his, you smiled down at him before pulling them towards your lips and kissing his palms. Almost instantly, you felt him twitch against you, unable to control himself from bucking his hips against your heated core. You let go of his hands and laid your own on his chest, throwing your head back when you felt his tight grip on your thighs. You could tell he wanted to apologize but gave him no chance to do so, sliding against him until you were sure he was painfully hard beneath you.

“Maker...I- I could almost taste you on my tongue Mando. When you- you left me in here all by myself. I couldn’t sleep, n-not when I could smell you on these covers, not when I could feel you on my skin. I..gods, wanted to kiss you then, and- and I wanted to taste your- you...Please, c-can I? P-please-” You dug your nails into his chest and heard him throw his head back against the wall with every confession you moaned to him. He was never this unhinged and you wished to see him come absolutely undone at your touch.

“A-are you sure?” It pained him to ask but he needed to be sure that you wouldn’t regret this. Regret him. 

“Mando, have you not listened to anything I’ve said tonight?” As much as you hated to remind him of the earlier and rather embarrassing events, you wanted him to know just how much he meant to you. You knew he was reluctant to let this relationship move forward and you couldn’t really blame him. This was all new to him. But you also didn’t want to stall, not when the two of you have become so aware of the other’s feelings.

You continued to rub yourself on him, shaking with anticipation when you heard him moan through the vocoder as you pressed yourself more confidently down on him. 

“Mesh'la I-” Without warning, you took one of his hands and pushed it to your lips, slowly taking two of his fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them until his moans grew louder. And when he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, you gripped his wrist tightly and groaned, making sure he could feel how much you wanted him. 

“Y-you’re killing me sweet girl.” He wanted to loosen his hold on you, to take things slow, to not let himself get carried away with you, but he didn’t find it in himself to be gentle because he could feel how wet and needy you were above him and there was no way he was going to waste another second not being close to you.

“Please Mando, I want you, n-need to have you. I can make you feel so good. Please, can I?” You reached down and cupped him through his pants, finding him as hard as the beskar of his armor. He thrust up into your hand and swore violently before taking his hand away from your mouth and fisting it into your hair. You smiled when you felt him push you off of him, whispering something in Mando’a when he saw you pulling his pants down his thighs and throwing them behind you. 

You bit your lower lip before moving off of the bed and pushing his legs along with you as well. Mando sat up and forced his hands to remain by his side, afraid his enthusiasm would make him get too rough with you and scare you away. When you laid your hands on his knees and pushed them wide open so you could get comfortable between his legs, Mando’s hands tightened around the covers and he hissed when he saw the way you were eyeing his cock. You were staring at him like he was a piece of meat and he wasn’t sure if he loved it or was embarrassed by it. 

“Maker,” you whispered before dragging your nails up and down his thighs, watching as his cock twitched against his stomach every time you got a little aggressive with your touches. Looking up into his visor, you slowly leaned down and took the tip of his cock in your mouth, humming around him as you tasted precum leaking into your taste buds. That seemed to do it for him because one of his hands shot to the back of your head and fisted into your hair while the other moved down until it landed on your hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours and watched as you pulled back and licked the underside of his dick before spitting into your hand and wrapping it around him.

“M-mando, the taste of you,” you took as much of him in your mouth as possible while maintaining eye contact with his helmet, squeezing the base of his cock before reaching down and cupping his balls. Mando swore, involuntarily thrusting into your mouth and watching in awe as he saw a dangerous glint in your eyes right before you clasped his hand harder and somehow managed to take him in deeper. It was such a sight, holding affectionately onto your hand as you brought him to pleasure. Letting go of him with a pop, you laid wet kisses down the length of his cock, licking the protruding veins and smiling when you felt his hold tighten on your hair. “Is absolutely addicting.” 

You could tell the exact second he lost all semblance of control because one minute you were kneeling at his feet, and the next thing you knew, Mando was pulling you up by your hair and throwing you beneath him on the bed. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, watching his muscles flex as he removed his shirt expertly over his helmet. The soft starlight coming through the metal blinds of the window shone onto his skin and you trailed your gaze down his chest, finding the golden brown tone of his scarred body absolutely breathtaking. 

“Mando, you’re beautiful.” You saw his hands begin to shake at your compliment, and you knew you’d take every chance you get from now on to tell him how much you adored him. You could hear him breathing through the mask and licked your lips when he looked down and saw the way you were playing with the hem of his shirt. Slowly, you began to pull on the soft material, about to take it off when he held onto your wrists. Your smile faltered for a second and hoped you didn’t somehow misunderstand his intentions.

The last thing Mando wished to see was your body giving away to shyness before him. Pushing your thighs open, he didn’t give you a chance to say anything else as he slid his fingers below the thin undergarment, violently ripping it off of you and discarding it onto the floor. You gasped when you felt him hard and heavy against your slit, taking both of his hands and pulling him towards you until he was only a hairbreadth away. He watched closely as you placed one hand around your throat while the other descended to your breast. You could tell Mando was reluctant to move so much an inch and when you pushed yourself against him, eyes daring him to do as he wishes, he found himself completely overtaken with the thought of you belonging to him and him only. You smiled when you felt the grip on your throat tighten, shutting your eyes and arching your back against him as the other cupped and pinched at your nipples through his shirt. 

“If you want me to fuck you tonight, Mesh'la, then you’re going to keep my shirt on.” He could feel you shaking in his arms and smiled to himself at the knowledge of how much he affected you. 

“Mando, please…” You would have continued begging him if he asked you to, but then he was moving away from you and leaning towards the window. Keeping your hands clasped to your chest, you watched as he shut the blinds until there wasn’t a single light shining into the room. You could barely see your own hands in the dark and wondered why he was shuffling above you. A soft hissing sound had you tensing in an instant and you ceased to breathe when you heard the faint sound of beskar hitting the ground. 

“M-mando?” The question was more reluctant than inquisitive and you didn’t have time to react as you felt him lean against you until you were touching every inch of his skin. You blinked a few times in vain, knowing there was no way you would be able to see anything. But then you felt something soft brush against your cheek and as you turned your head towards him, Mando was molding his lips with yours, swallowing your gasps and sucking on your tongue as soon as you melted into him. He pulled away against his own will, but not before pushing your jaw with his nose until your neck was available to him.

“And my name is Din sweet girl, Din Djarin. It better be the only word you scream tonight as I fuck this pretty little cunt. Understood?” You weren’t sure if it was his deep voice that made you speechless or the fact that he not only took off his helmet for you but willingly told you his name as well. You committed it to memory, hoping this wouldn’t be the only time he took off his helmet around you. You’d always wondered what he sounded like without it, not comprehending that it could be so much sweeter than what you’ve dreamed of. And by the gods, his lips. How were they so soft and gentle? Maker, he had a stubble too, not a rough one but just long enough to tickle your neck as he kissed and nipped at your clavicle.

“Answer me Ad'ika.” He bit your shoulder to grab your attention once more, chuckling above you when you nodded frantically against him. 

“You’re so soft Cyar'ika, I- I want to kiss every inch of your skin.” As much as you loved making him lose his mind at your touch, you had to admit you enjoyed him much more when he was in control. You smiled when he kissed along your shoulder before pushing down his shirt far enough to expose your breasts. Din bit down on his lower lip to contain himself, but then you were arching your back and pushing yourself into him and he couldn’t hold back. He kissed down your sternum, waiting until you relaxed in his arms before assaulting your nipples. You screamed his name as you felt his teeth tug on your nipple, hands shooting to his hair when you felt him grope and pull on the other. 

“Din, oh ma-maker- your mouth is...f-fuck.” You could tell he was smiling as he aggressively licked the hardened bud before sucking on it again. Din pushed his cock against your wet slit, growling when you pulled on his hair and cried his name like a sweet prayer. 

“I could smell your cunt sweet girl, so fucking wet and hot and ready for me.” Din pulled back and cornered you between his arms, bucking his hips into you until you were a needy and moaning mess beneath him. “Woke up countless times in this bed...hard and aching at the mere thought of you...d-dreaming of having you in my arms, wanting to sink into you, f-fuck you on every inch of this ship.” 

“Din, please...I need you.” 

The way you clawed at his back broke him and before he knew what he was doing, he was flipping you on your stomach and raising your hips against him.

“I need to have you Mesh'la.” Din leaned down and swiped your hair to the side, whispering the filthiest things in your ears as he took hold of his cock and rubbed it against your heat. 

“I’m yours Din, do what you want. Fuck me, ruin me...cum in me if you wish. Just p-please-”

You made it sound so simple, trusting him. It was an odd feeling to know how easily you were giving yourself to him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, not after what you said tonight. But something about the way you offered yourself to him, especially with that last request, had him seeing stars.

Leaning down until his chest was sliding against your back, the Mandalorian held you against him with one arm across your front while he slowly slipped into your wet cunt. You sighed in unison, and Din felt a sense of pride fill his chest when you dug your nails into his arm while your legs began to shake beneath him.

“You’re a dream Cyar'ika, the best f-fucking dream I could ever have. And you’re all mine.”

“Y-yes, yours. I’ve always been yours, oh gods Din please, move. M-move.” You were babbling at this point but couldn’t find it in yourself to care, turning your head to the side just to feel him breathe against your cheek. His stubble rubbed deliciously at your heated and sensitive skin, and you would tell him later that you hoped he’d mirror those actions but elsewhere.

“So tight darling, I- you’re everything. The things I- uhhh, the thing I want to do to you.” Din achingly pulled out before snapping into you again, biting down on your shoulder when you clenched violently around him. 

“Din, oh Din-” You wished you could tell him how good he felt, how much he filled you, how often you craved having him inside you and how much you were losing it now that he was. But you couldn’t find a single word, not when he was fucking you like you were it for him.

The normally quiet man was groaning and hissing above you, pulling you along with him as he sat up and continued to fuck you relentlessly. You reached back and held his head against your neck, crying in pain and pleasure when he picked up the pace and his hold on your hip tightened. You were sure there would be bruise marks the next day but you couldn’t tell him to slow down or be a little less aggressive, not when you finally had him where you’ve wanted for so long. 

“Fuck, fuck….sweet girl, did- did you mean it?” He was asking you something and you didn’t really pay attention to him, focusing on the way he deliciously dragged against your tight walls over and over again. Din knew it wasn’t fair to ask you anything right now but he had to know. Needed to.

He stopped his movement all together, sinking as deep into you as possible and tightening his grip on your throat. 

“Pfassk...answer me darling.” Din whispered into your ears and reached down to where you were joined, softly slapping your clit until you twitched and begged him to repeat his words again.

“I said, did you fucking mean it when- kriffing hell, when you said I could...c-cum in you?” He was reluctant to ask but there was no point in denying either of you. 

“Yes, gods yes. I told you Din, d-do what you want with me.” You forcibly loosened the fingers around your throat and brought them to your lips, biting the palm of his hand as he resumed thrusting into you. 

“Mesh'la...you’re such a sweet girl, letting me b-breed you...taking my cock so well, letting me fill you up. You were made for me darling. This cunt, this sweetest and tightest kriffing pussy was made for my cock.” He pronounced each word with a harsh push of his hips and you smiled when you heard how low his voice suddenly became. The sounds of skin slapping on skin filled the room and you hoped the child wouldn’t wake up from how loud the two of you were being. 

“You’re mine darling. Won’t let anyone else touch you...fucking look at you even. Maker I- I almost lost it tonight in the cantina.” There was a hint of self-consciousness in his words and you hoped he didn’t think you could ever replace him.

“D-din..” You wanted to tell him no one else would compare but he didn’t give you a chance. 

“Talking about me like I- fuck, like I didn’t care about you, like I don’t picture you coming on my cock every waking moment of my day. And flirting with him in my shirt...my kriffing shirt. I almost lost it when he put his hands on you sweet girl.” You weren’t sure if he had somehow become harder inside you or if it was his words that made you attuned to the feeling of him pushing into your cunt but you turned your head and kissed his cheeks, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to tell him with your touches. 

“You’re the only one f-for me.” Din let go of your neck and held onto your hips, no longer caring about how rough he was being with you. Your heavy sighs were the only warning he had right before your tight walls convulsed around his dick and he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, falling on top of you and bucking his hips slowly into your cunt until you begged him to slow down.

“Cyare, ah pfassk, that’s it. Keep squeezing me darling. I’m so close, so close. Ah fuck, you’re mine. Mine, not letting you go. N-never letting you go. Oh maker...ner runi...ner. Ner. Riduur. My sweet girl...riduur.” Din didn’t realize what he’d said until the words were left hanging in the air and he felt a rush of relief wash over him as he finally admitted how he felt about you. 

“Din, I lo- ahh gods please.” He silenced your screams with his hand, losing his rhythm as he came in hot spurts of cum inside you. Din bit down onto your shoulder just as you bit on the palm of his hand, continuing to push his seed deep inside you until he felt you a mixture of your juices seeping out of you. Neither of you moved for a few moments, relishing the way you fit so perfectly with each other. You could feel him breathing heavily against your back and smiled with pride when you realized you were the only one that got to see him like this. 

Din didn’t want to stop touching you, falling to the side and grabbing your flush to him only to hiss when you unintentionally clenched around his softening cock. You kissed his wrist as he pulled the covers over the two of you, not bothering to move a muscle mostly because you knew he didn’t wish for you to leave him.

He kissed along the bruised ridges of your shoulders, drawing circles on your navel and smiling when you giggled beneath him.

“I wasn’t too rough with you was I?” He asked embarrassingly, not knowing what he’d do if you said yes. 

“You were perfect Din...you- you are perfect.” You turned your head far enough in hopes of catching his attention, letting out a deep breath when he leaned over and captured your lips in a chaste kiss. He was so soft and you didn’t know which side of him you enjoyed more but you were sure you wanted to get to know him, all of him. His likes and dislikes.

“Far from it Mesh'la. I...I went to the lower deck and saw where you’ve been sleeping.”

“Oh…”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Din rose on his elbow, seeking your hands in the dark and holding onto your fingers as he raised your hand to his mouth and kissed along your hand. 

“I- I didn’t want to make you think you weren’t welcome. Peli told me about the Creed and well, there isn’t any sort of privacy down there really. And the kid would’ve been cold. I know how much he likes to cuddle next to you when he sleeps.” 

“But you’ve been-”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, believe me.” He didn’t say anything else in response but you knew he was very much thinking about it. 

“Din, I wouldn’t change a single moment. Not one. Because each one led me here, to this bed, in your arms. I would relive every mission and every cold night and every awkward conversation again if I knew I’d end up here with you. You’re the closest thing I have to a..a-”

“Family.” He broke the silence before lying back down and pulling you as close to him as possible.

“Promise me you won’t get drunk by yourself in a cantina again.” You wished you didn’t laugh out loud at the random request because Din swore behind you before his grip loosened a bit.

“I’m sorry I...I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just, here I am pouring my heart out and the only thing you could follow up with was that.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you grabbed his arm and pulled him back to you. “And yes, I promise not to get drunk in a cantina by myself ever again.”

“Good.”

“But I can’t really make any promises about not flirting with anyone because if it means I get to have you all hot and bothered then-”

“Sweet girl, you’re going to regret ever thinking of that…” 

Translations: 

Sleemo - This Huttese insult was pronounced slay-mo and translated as "slimeball," a rude insult.

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Pfassk - An adaptable expletive

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - Mine.

Runi - soul; only used poetically

Riduur - partner, spouse, husband/wife

[nerdygaymormon]

I’m planning to come out as bisexual to my parents when I move out, and I’m planning to use a letter so I’m not subjected to their initial negative emotional response. I plan to work on this letter for a few months and incorporate scripture and revelation into it so they can hopefully see that it’s not bad for me to be gay. They’re kinda homophobic rn, but I don’t think they realise how negative that is for the people around them. Do you have any sources you could recommend for me to quote/reference in the letter?

I can tell you care a lot about your parents. Not only do you plan to come out in your letter and share your feelings and journey, you want to help your parents to progress towards acceptance and to embrace you. It's very thoughtful.

One suggestion I have is in the letter, coach them on the way to respond. This is new for them.

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Here's 4 main points the Church teaches regarding queer people:

Feelings of same-sex attraction aren’t a choice; they’re nobody’s fault

These attractions aren’t sinful

You don’t need to change your orientation

You are welcome in the Church exactly as you are

For a lot of LDS parents, these basic points still need to be understood and absorbed. There's nothing wrong with you being bi

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You hope they'll celebrate and support the child they have, not the child they wish they had. Their child is amazing!

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Now that I'm out, I bet you’ll think of past conversations or comments and jokes that you made and realize how those could have hurt. It’s not too late to apologize. You’ll probably think of different things I've said and done from the time I was little up to the present and understand them in a whole new way, you’ll see my orientation has always been there.

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An important role for parents is being your child’s advocate and protector. Speak up when you hear homophobic things. Even if it’s “Hey, these are real people you’re talking about and that was unkind.” To the person feeling attacked, remaining silent doesn’t come across as neutral, it feels like you agree.

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Life can be difficult for LGBT people because of cultural and societal impediments. Imagine if the things the Church teaches about LGBT people and the restrictions it imposes on them were instead said and required of you. Would you feel welcome? Especially when told again and again that marrying and having a family is the only way to happiness…unless you’re gay, then just don’t, spend your life alone. What message does that send? What would heaven even look like for you?

The gospel is supposed to be “good news,” but too often it isn’t if you’re queer. Delete all the positive things about this church that involves family or romantic relationships and what's left? Pretty sobering, right?

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For LGBT Mormons, the normal path is to come out and then quickly leave the Church, and there’s good reason for that. I know it’s hard to hear that the church you love and believe in can be so toxic to your child. Try imagining the experience of church from my perspective. All the negative things I've heard about people like me, of how having a family is the greatest joy except it’s forbidden for me. Add a bunch of talk about being under the influence of Satan when that has nothing to do with it.

I know many members hope and pray for their loved one to stay in the church, but they don't consider the price. Queer people who stay often have mental health challenges such as depression and anxiety disorder, they have high rates of feeling suicidal and high rates of attempting suicide. They have low self-esteem. Most have the symptoms of PTSD. Is this is the life that parents want for their child? I hope not.

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Continue to invite me to important family events, let me decide whether I want to attend the ones of a religious nature. Baptisms, mission homecomings and weddings are important milestones in a person’s life, and so they’ll be important to me. I know church is part of your life and it’s fine to talk about it a bit, but don’t go on and on about random happenings in your ward.

Be supportive and encouraging of the important moments in my life, even if they’re at odds with what your church teaches. Please don't wonder if this will show you're "endorsing" things you don't believe in, once you pull out that sword of righteousness it can be used to sever and kill relationships.

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Resources:

You may as well begin with the LDS Church's website about same-sex attraction. It will be the resource they trust the most. It's not a horrible site. I don't think it offers much to queer people, but it has some answers and ways of framing things that could be helpful for parents, especially those who for the first time are thinking seriously about the topic.

I think the Family Acceptance Project’s pamphlet for LDS families is excellent. It presents a lot of science and best practices together with quotes from LDS leaders. You can either order a copy of the pamphlet and include it with your letter, or provide a link (or print out) to the PDF of the pamphlet

This is a TedTalk that speaks about some of the reasons why Nature creates homosexuals, and some of the differences in people who are LGBT compared to the rest of the population. It references numerous scientific studies but explains them in layman’s terms. I think it would give your parents a new way to think of things, things they never considered

Dr. Bill Bradshaw is a BYU researcher/professor and former mission president, he put together a document where he summarizes a lot of the research that shows LGBTQ orientations are biologic, not a choice or caused by parenting or cultural influences

Family Fellowship Support Group on Facebook is here to help you better understand how to parent your gay child, or for gay Mormons it teaches how to build a community of support:

Listen Learn & Love is a website by Richard Ostler (affectionately called Papa Ostler by the LDS LGBT community). He's a former bishop who has made loving LGBT Mormons his ministry. He does a podcast, has many resources available. In fact, he has a book that I think is especially useful for true believing members who haven't thought much about queer topics.

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For you, I suggest you learn about setting boundaries. How do you state the boundaries, how do you maintain them, what are examples of language to use when setting a boundary? Think about areas you may want to draw a boundary. While at first it could feel difficult, it will help create a better relationship by avoiding areas where you won't agree or which will cause emotional distress or anger.