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critter-coded · 23 days

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I'm honestly questioning myself from scratch for a while. I want to feel entirely confident in what I'm calling myself, but that doesn't make me less of a therian either.

I'm going to be entirely transparent for a moment as an adult, and explain sort of my feelings and why I've felt so wishy washy with my labels lately. I don't feel that I "owe" anyone an explanation, but I do feel that others may relate.

I've been trained for 22 years be a human.

In elementary school, I answered "dog" for what I wanted to be when I grew up, while everyone else wrote doctor or lawyer. I didn't fit in. You can't strive to become a 'dog'. I was bullied and excluded relentlessly, but it didn't stop me until teachers started calling my family about it. I began to feel shame for the first time, and suddenly found that my recess time was spent sitting in time out. Playing with ants wasn't okay. Digging in the playground wasn't okay. Eating without utensils wasn't okay. I think about her all of the time, and how sad she must have felt to be punished for unharmful behaviors and told to "fix" it. I didn't know how.

Middle school is when I started to experience dysphoria. It wasn't gender dysphoria like I thought for a long time. It was species dysphoria. The experience of developing breasts didn't feel correct. Animals, even mammals, don't have them like I do. Bras made me feel feral and I always tried not to wear them. It got me sent to the office more than once all because my chest wasn't as small as some other girls'. My clothes were no longer acceptable either, and I didn't want to wear what everyone else was. More exclusion if I didn't choose to follow the rest.

High school was the worst. I was fitting in finally, but my mental health struggled horrifically. I had no safe avenues anymore to deal with my stress. I couldn't voice that I didn't like something without aggression because I couldn't use animal behaviors anymore. My clothes scratched, my bra itched, my grades struggled. I was in the counselors office more than I would like to admit. My family was in disarray and I felt caught in the middle of it all, with no way to be anything but human. My girlfriend at the time knew I was a therian since I finally found the word to describe how I felt, but she relentlessly held it against me and shamed me anytime she wasn't happy which was often. At some point, I ended up in the ER with mental health concerns and in therapy accordingly. Nothing seemed to help me though.

College was fine. I kept my head down and just tried to get through my work. Socializing felt damn near impossible, but I was managing. I don't know what I would have done if the pandemic didn't happen, moving me online for 2 years. I finally had a last ticket out of my parents' house, and I had found a boyfriend who loved every bit of my crittery behaviors. It was a good time for me to finally try and rediscover myself, but that fell apart when I graduated.

My home state drove me out by cost alone. I moved the same month I walked the stage with my degree, and I had a job already lined up. I was excited for the money, freedom, and new experiences. Soon though, that turned into a complete loss of my nonhumanity. I am now working 8 hours a day where I have to behave perfectly around everyone. I drive 1 hour to work and 1 hour home. I have to cook and clean and run errands. I need to shower and lay out my clothing for the next day, then try to get 8 hours of sleep. Where do I find the time to be an animal anymore? On the hiking trails, everyone is watching me. In my dreams, I'm a human worried about my finances and my social interactions. I feel lost a lot of the time as my animalistic behaviors are sometimes limited to a single hiss in traffic, wearing a tail while I cook or clean, or a very short nap in a hammock outside where my neighbors can still see me.

I'm trying to reconnect with myself, but there is little time and space. It is entirely possible to be an adult nonhuman, but I am finding that it can require dedicated time set aside in the day. If you're feeling disconnected from yourself, I think it's worth asking: when did the disconnect begin? Was it really a month ago? Or has it began decades ago when people told you you're not normal, that you won't fit in, and that you'll fail. How does a dog know what makes it a dog anymore if it has been trained to speak human, work like a human, spend time outside like a human, drive as a human, and so on.

Be gracious with yourself and give yourself dedicated time to be an animal. You are not broken or wrong or stupid. You need animal time as a therian to be healthy, happy, and focused. You need animal time to give yourself a break from a world not willing to adjust to your behaviors. You need animal time to feel like yourself, and to connect with your roots. You're nonhuman even if sometimes you wonder if you still are, if you struggle to stick with a label because you can't remember what you actually feel like, and if you can't find the time some days to be nonhuman.

You are still authentic. You are still real. You are deserving of joy and comfort. Be the little critter you are.

I'll probably make some self care idea posts more geared for adults and older teens sometime soon to directly address this issue. Even without a label, I still plan on being active online as much as I am active offline. ♡ When a label feels like it best suits what I'm experiencing or want to focus myself around, I'll announce it.

#therian #otherkin #therianthropy #therianthrope #adult therian #writing #alterhuman #nonhuman

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bilesproblems · 1 year

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Common mistakes made when arguing with exclus (and how to respond properly)

Hi mspec lesbians today I'm gonna talk about some things that exclus say often, the common responses that get nowhere, and how to properly respond (all joking btw)

#1: "Lesbians can't be attracted to men. If you're attracted to men in any capacity, you can't be a lesbian"

Incorrect reply ❌: Actually, I'm not attracted to men, I just recognize my attraction to multiple feminine and neutrally aligned genders as mspec

Correct reply ✅: (HEARTS, DIAMONDS,) I CAN DO ANYTHING!

Exclus don't care about reason. Make deltarune references instead. Especially if you are an mspec lesbian attracted to men

#2: "I just don't get it though how does that work"

Incorrect reply ❌: *An actual detailed response explaining mspec lesbians*

Correct reply ✅: The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a Multistage Aerobic Capacity Test...

There are dozens of resources on mspec lesbians. This reply is especially helpful for when you've already tried explaining. They just won't get it if they don't wanna.

#3: "Maybe lesbian USED to include nonexclusive attraction, but that's in the past now!"

Incorrect reply ❌: While some bi people did choose to leave themselves, a lot of us were forced out by Gold Star lesbians instead of just by natural language progression. If you guys wanted or needed your own spaces, you should have made your own. I have a right to be here.

Correct reply ✅: When single shines the triple sun, what was sundered and undone, shall be whole, the two made one, by Gelfling hand, or else by none.

When you explain things to exclusuonists, they plug their ears and ignore what you said. When you say cryptic shit, they have to think.

#4: "Why do you have to make everything so complicated with your identity?"

Incorrect reply ❌: I do not feel a single label properly explains my identity, and I feel all these labels fit my experience.

Correct reply ✅: Gotta catch 'em all

"Abro lesbian, I choose you!" *throws PokeLGBallT*

#5: "Just pick one!"

Incorrect response ❌: I can't just pick one. These labels all have a meaning to me and picking one feels like I'm picking between parts of myself.

Correct reply ✅: I don't have to. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. Vice Principal Nero likes me best and there's a special beef and bean burrito with a little ribbon on it just for me.

You don't have to just pick a single label. No one fits neatly into one little box, and those of us who like boxes anyway are building our box forts. You don't owe an explanation to exclus beyond "I don't want to."

#6: "Liking women and nonbinary people doesn't count as mspec!"

Incorrect reply ❌: Yeah it does. Way to be transphobic and biphobic in one sentence.

Correct reply ✅: I consider that a dignified argument. Not really, it was actually quite pathetic. *aggressive banjo sounds*

Self explanatory why this reason sucks. 2+ genders = mspec. Even if those 2 genders are girl and demigirl, you can consider yourself mspec.

#7: "Mspec lesbians harm real lesbians and erase the meaning of the word lesbian"

Incorrect reply ❌: I am literally just existing

Correct reply ✅: Oogalie boogalie bitch

You can't fix stupid and convince them we don't hurt anyone. Embrace being the destroyer of lesbianism.

#8: "Just say homosexual/homoromantic if you use the SAM instead of lesbian, because lesbian is exclusive to people not attracted to men in any way"

Incorrect reply ❌: Not only do you not really mean that, because you actually only draw the line at sexual and romantic attraction, but that's the most ridiculous level of gatekeeping. No other lgbt label in the world has a requirement on both sexual AND romantic attraction except aroace and other -rose labels, but those are specifically combos FOR romantic and sexual attraction. No one should have to call themselves homo- instead of lesbian just because their romantic orientation is different than their sexual orientation. Plus that definition means every aroace woman and nonbinary person is a lesbian.

Correct reply ✅: How about no. *then you waddle away, waddle waddle waddle.*

Again, you owe nobody an explanation. You don't have to. Just say no.

#9: "Mspec lesbian labels contribute to real lesbians being harassed, assaulted, and (r-word that I won't type until I learn how to censor)"

Incorrect reply ❌: You're beyond hope. Someone who would assault someone either doesn't care about their orientation or is doing it specifically because they think the person isn't attracted to them and needs to be fixed. It is their own entitlement, ego, and lack of care for other people that leads to that happening, not teens identifying as bi lesbians. Let's pretend all straight men think all lesbians will like men. Not even straight women like every man they see. No one will claim "well because I am a lesbian who likes men, you now have to date men." That's the single stupidest thing a person could ever think. You'd be smarter unironically believing 2 + 2 = 5, the Earth is flat, and MH370 was hijacked by Russians than believing unironically that a single lesbian who doesn't like men at all would be forced to date men because a different lesbian did. Some lesbians like nonbinary people and some only like women, and the ones who only like women aren't forced to date nonbinary people. You single handedly bring down the average intelligence of all humanity by a significant margin.

Correct reply ✅: For a clownfish, you really aren't that funny.

Anyone stupid enough to believe this can't be reasoned with and they will hopefully never be in charge of anything. Don't waste your energy.

I can't think of a 10th so that's all folks

#mspec lesbian positivity #pro mspec lesbian #mspec lesbian safe #mspec lesbian #bi lesbian positivity #pro bi lesbian #bi lesbian #bi lesbian safe #lunian #mogai positivity #mogai #lgbtq #lgbt #lgbtqa #lgbtqia #lesbian

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alien-above · 9 months

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My second coming out.

I think I was 18 when I came out as a lesbian. I don’t remember definitive moments of telling my friends. In many ways they knew before I did. Maybe it was all the drunk rambling about hot women when I lost my inhibitions. It must’ve been, because for all of my teenage years, I had been hanging up posters of male tv show actors and male band members and declaring they were attractive. I remember one afternoon where I was looking through a Kerrang magazine and I was gushing over how hot the lead singer of All Time Low was. Or maybe it was the guitarist. I really can’t remember. And at that time I genuinely thought that I was attracted to whichever one it was, and any other man that I had talked about. I really did. Because being attracted to men, being straight, was the norm and I had never questioned if I was actually feeling that way, or just blindly going along with what everyone else thought. And I suppose at 14/15/16/17 I had never experienced true attraction so I really had no way of actually knowing back then. And maybe that’s weird. Maybe I was weird. Or maybe, again, I just never had the time and space to consider the other gender or any gender, consider who I was.

But at around 18 I had sort of a revelation about women, without really understanding what it meant. Suddenly it was female actors and musicians I was obsessing over, talking about constantly and hanging up pictures of. And that felt right. It really did. I was finally certain about what attraction felt like. And when my brain and emotions caught up to what that meant for me, there just became casual talk in my friend group about me being a lesbian. Never any judgment or doubtful questions from their side. It just fell into my place. And I was so grateful and relieved to be accepted, that life just sailed on after that. But I also never did a lot of “soul searching” about it. Honestly the process of coming out seemed to happen completely without me in a way. Suddenly it just was. And that was it. I had a label now, and that would define my future. I really wish I would’ve given myself more time. Asked for more time, grown up a bit more before settling into something that in a way was just as much a directive of who I was supposed to be, as being straight had been.

I know many people want any lgbtq+ person to know their sexuality or gender when they start feeling and especially expressing being outside of the given norm. As if knowing a persons label restores the balance of things and the world makes sense again. It’s like they’re saying “well if you’ve gotta be different then you at least owe us an explanation of exactly what is so different about you”.

Fuck that. Whether you’re 5 or 12 or 25 or 50 or 90, you don’t owe anyone anything, you don’t have to explain, you don’t have to cram yourself into a nice little box with a nice little label, just so other people know where to store you.

I know that some people think that it’s ridiculous and attention seeking if a person decides to not label themselves, like it’s trendy to not only “want” to be different but also to “decide” that you’re so different that you’re not comfortable with these “perfectly well-fitted labels that everyone else can use so why can’t you, and just give us some peace”

Some people find power in labels and that’s amazing. Other people find just another set of expectations and dictations of who you’re supposed to be and who you’re allowed to be.

And without knowing it at the time, I had let myself be put into a box, before I had even come to terms with who I was.

I told my family in quite an unexpected way. As a protest against their generally homophobic talk. I wasn’t by any means ready to come out, I had barely been figuring things out, very barely confident enough to be myself. But I pushed myself to do it one night, because I was sick of hearing them talk like that, and a part of me thought that if they knew I wasn’t straight, then it would force them to have to reevaluate their thinking and speaking.

That night, that coming out, it wasn’t for me, it was for every other person out there, sat at a dining table feeling ashamed and rejected. It was a challenge in a way. One that I won, my family doesn’t speak like that anymore, they support me and I like to think that they’ve grown to see the world in a different way as the years have gone by.

But it happened. I was now out of the closet to the people closest to me. And I was a lesbian.

I was 18 or 19 back then. Now I’m 27. And I feel stuck and ashamed and uncertain. I’m hiding. And I’m so terrified that my closest friends will think differently of me, if I ever tell them that I’m not sure. I’m so scared that I will let them down, that they will feel betrayed or that they will think that I’ve been lying to them for all these years (and I guess that part is true), that I’m a fraud who was just desperate to be a lesbian.

I came out years ago.

But then 2 days ago I watched Red White & Royal blue, and season 2 of Heartstopper in the same day.

And I got this sort of pressing sadness in my chest, this overwhelming need to be able to be myself, because i knew and I know that I’m not free, I’m not out of the godforsaken closet in the way that is who I am. I think I’m bi, actually.

And what a terrible shame. Terrible, terrible shame. Shame on me. How dare I be the person who proves that every lesbian can be turned by a good-looking man? How dare I ask people to have to change their perception of me? How dare I be 27 and not know for certain who I am?

It’s messing with my head so much that I’m afraid I can never be honest. It’s messing with me so much that I feel like I’ve been slowly drowning in a cage for years and now there’s barely any air left. It feels like if I don’t get those words out soon then I’m not gonna make it. It’s so heavy.

And being openly bisexual, from what I’ve gathered, is not a fun rollercoaster to be on. You’ll be questioned and analyzed and doubted, you’ll have to constantly stand up for your own sexuality because it’s too fluid for pea-sized brains to understand, every romantic or sexual experience you have will be either a defeat or a success in the lgbtq+ community, you’ll be sexualized, you’ll be asked to cross your own boundaries because it’s “hot”, you’ll be seen as more promiscuous, and probably so many more things I can’t think of right now.

Part of the reason I also haven’t told anyone yet, is the simple reason that it’s easier to brush men off that you don’t want attention from, by saying that you’re a lesbian, so they’re wasting their time. It’s an easy out I’ve used many times. And I’ve felt so wrong about it every time because it’s simply not true. And what a fucked up world, that it’s easier to throw the lesbian card than it is to simply say no and have that be respected. But that’s an entirely different talk.

Am I really ready to face all of this, to have that conversation with friends and family, to admit that I’m not a lesbian and that I’m still figuring things out? To have to explain what to me is very personal, about how attraction works for me? To have to then also open up about the differences I feel with romantic and sexual attraction? To explain that I’m also not quite sure if maybe I’m somewhere on the demisexual spectrum as well? And is it too much to ask for them to understand that particular part as well? To have to lay bare every single moment of confusion and realization that has led me to have to speak up to be free? In a way it feels like I’m going to court and I might lose. Well I feel quite certain that I’ll lose and that for a very long time, I’ll be stuck in that courtroom until I’ve explained enough, to peoples satisfaction.

As if this isn’t about me wanting to be happy, it’s about making sure that the people around me are happy with who I am.

I just want to be me. I want to not have to be careful about what I say, I want to be able to gush as much about Henry Cavill as I can gush about Anya Chalotra, I want the freedom to fall in love with a person, without having to stress about whether or not it’s a woman. I want to be able to talk about attraction without hiding half of me, without suffocating myself in the process.

I want to be allowed to be 27 and still be figuring things out.

But still, I’m so afraid of what will happen. And it’s simply just not fucking fair that I have to be afraid. I have never even written about this before, too afraid to put actual words to how I’ve been feeling for so long, too afraid of making it real. But I’m taking a chance, and posting it here, hoping that maybe it will be a step on the way.

If anyone reads this, then please be kind ❤️

#coming out #sexuality #lgbtqa #heartstopper #red white and royal blue #bisexuality

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eaamon · 1 year

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Perspective | Part 1

Warning: It has spoilers from manga so don't read it if you aren't caught up.

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x Reader (Female)

Synopsis: Touya has become a hero, fulfilling his father's wish. He wanted Endeavor to be proud of him. Then why is this emptiness chasing him everywhere? Why can't he fit in with everyone else? Is this really what he wanted? All his thoughts and concepts about the hero society are left in chaos when he meets a certain villain.

Note: There is just Fuyumi in this story because Touya has achieved what Endeavor wanted.

Word count: 2.2k

He was on top of a high building staring at the horizon late at night. The city lights were bright and there was distant chatter. He stared at everything with a cigarette between his fingers as the world moved at its own pace. He became a hero just like his father wanted. His wish was to become a son his father would be proud of. He achieved all that but there was still emptiness that was slowly creeping closer day by day and he didn’t understand how to get rid of it.

He pressed the cigarette butt on the concrete in front of him and turned around to leave. Everyone was unbothered, living their life as he walked past them like a tiny speck of dust. Everything was in harmony but it seemed like his existence was insignificant. He just couldn’t bring himself to merge into this harmony. He was only capable of disrupting it. As a hero he had to walk the thin line to make sure he doesn’t mess things up.

Since he met that villain, his ideals were shattered. He no longer knew what is right and what is wrong. He was beginning to doubt the hero society. He wasn’t even sure what it really meant to be a hero and a villain. He found himself walking the same path he had been for the past few months. He had a few injuries scattering his body after fighting off some bad guys. That was the only excuse he needed to visit her.

He walked inside the big building which she referred to as facility. He found himself knocking the door to a familiar office. He heard those same footsteps coming closer. Soon she opened the door and was met with E/C orbs. He smirked while pointing at his bleeding nose and forehead. “Need some patching, Doll.” He watched her sigh while shaking her head and opened the door wide for him to enter.

She took out the first aid kit from the drawer of her working table. He sat down on the chair he always sat in and she began cleaning his wound. “You do realize these are simple injuries and you can take care of them yourself instead of coming all the way here.” He noticed her calculating eyes and stable hands as she spoke in a cautious tone. “Don’t forget you owe me this, Doll. Why would I do it myself when I got you?” He was trying hard to control the way his heart fluttered in his chest from the way she gently cleaned his wounds. “For all I know, you could be collecting information to rat me out, pretty boy.” He felt her aggressively spread the ointment over the cut on his forehead.

It made sense if he placed himself in her shoes. How she was labelled as a villain by the society, he didn’t understand. All she did was provide a safe medical facility to those who couldn’t go to a regular hospital for any reason. Even though medical facilities should be available to everyone. Most of her clients were villains. He hummed in reply and then smirked. “Why would I rat you out? I get free treatment from a hottie.” He watched her turn away from him to discard the waste and close the first aid box. “You should stop coming here, Touya. You bring danger to this facility and all those people who come here for treatment.” He quietly watched her fiddle with the box for a few seconds. “Okay.” His voice was low as he stood up and started walking towards the door.

“Just know that I don’t think what you’re doing here is wrong and there is no chance I would tell anyone bout it.” With a heavy heart he walked out of the office and the facility. He knew this was wrong to begin with but he just couldn’t help himself. This is how it played out every time. She would tell him to not come back but she would still treat him anyway. This time though, he actually agreed. One part of his brain told him that this was wrong but there was another part telling him that it was fine. He felt uncomfortable around her but it seemed like he was addicted to her at the same time. He didn’t understand what was going on with him. He wanted someone to diagnose him and treat the disease he was suffering from.

Touya hated doing paperwork which is why he would never go to the agency in the morning. He would just go out and about saving people here and there. Sometimes he would catch small fries but today he was sure he was going to find a big one. Just like the day he was debuted for saving so many lives by destroying a well-known villain within seconds. The only downside was that he was too focused on fighting the villain and eradicating him so there was a lot of collateral damage and it endangered the lives of people in the area. He has been lectured about that so many times but he would just groan in return and say “I saved their lives not endanger them! It ain’t my fault they shat their pants.” They would always counter him that he was being rude and saving lives has many aspects than just destroying the villains.

He stretched his arms above his head as he walked the familiar streets of the city. He didn’t visit her in the past week. He realized that his emptiness grew even more during this period. Everything was peaceful for now, until he saw the familiar H/C hair. His eyes widened and he started running after her before he thought things through. He only got a glimpse of her before she disappeared in to the crowd. He tried squeezing in but received a slap from some random woman who was calling him a pervert for touching her ass. When he focused on the last place he saw that girl, she was gone. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and walked away from the crowd.

Just then he realized he subconsciously walked to the same place where he first met her. He shook his head and decided to go to a different district. There was a small fry trying to rob a bank but he took care of it easily and handed him to the police. Just as he was walking out of the scene, he heard a familiar voice which made him grimace. It was enough to take away a few years off his life. “Toouyaaa!” Shouted his father from behind him. He was forced to slow down.

He was staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets when he felt Endeavor's arm wrap around his shoulders. “Touya, my boy. How are things on your side?” he laughed right after. “Cut to the chase, Endeavor.” Touya finally looked up. Just as Endeavor opened his mouth there was a loud blast right behind them. They turned around to see the bank which was burning and it was blown to smithereens. All heroes ran towards it, including them. Touya ran inside despite Endeavor calling his name and telling him they need to take out the fire and that the bank was evacuated. None of these wannabe heroes saw the shadow in the top floor window.

He didn’t feel that hot once he was inside. He was used to such temperatures. He was quickly navigating the building. He found the backstairs and started climbing up. He started coughing a little bit because of all the smoke as he went up. He covered his nose and mouth with his arm to reduce its exposure. He finally reached the room where he had seen the shadow from the window. He slammed the door open and was met with even more smoke which caused his eyes to water but he bulldozed inside.

His eyes widened when he saw a man lifting that same girl by her neck. Her small hands were resting over his much bigger ones. She was trying to say something but the lack of air prevented her to. He growled as he kicked that man on his back. He heard a cracking sound along with his screams of agony. They both dropped to the floor. The girl was on her knees and coughing as he looped his arm around her waist. “Ya’ gotta explain what the fuck just happened here.” He said while turning towards the window. He was planning to break it and jump out.

“No…you mustn’t be here…leave...” The girl’s voice was hoarse and cracking but he didn’t care about it. He broke the window with his elbow and just as he was about to jump out, he heard a shot. He groaned as his left flank seemed like it was on fire. He could feel the warm liquid trickling down his skin. He was losing his balance because of the smoke. One bullet shouldn’t cause enough damage for him to pass out, or so he thought. Suddenly it seemed like he was underwater as he wobbled trying to climb the window. “The spleen…” was all he heard her say before he toppled back and his vision became dark.

He groaned because it seemed like he hit his head somewhere and now it was cracked open. He placed a hand on his forehead and pushed his hair back. He tried opening his eyes but it was too bright. His nose was filled with the sharp smell of disinfectant. This reminded him about what had happened. He was about to sit up but a sharp pain shot down his flank and he hissed in pain. He looked up with bleary eyes when he felt a hand on his chest. “Don’t move around. You already lost too much blood. Your wound will open up.” It was the same girl he saw everywhere, the one driving him crazy. He was hoping she doesn't feel his heart beating loudly in his chest.

He groaned and laid back down. He watched her sit on the seat beside his bed. “What the fuck?” He said while placing an arm over his eyes. “No need to be stingy, Pretty Boy. I saved your life.” The girl replied and he felt a dip in the bed. He peeked from under his arm. He saw her feet resting on the bed. His elvis muscle pulled up and he closed his eyes once more. He was trying to get rid of this suffocating feeling. He always seems to make a fool out of himself in front of her. “I saved your life first.” He didn’t move from his position. “Yeah right. You passed out on me like some high school girl.” She countered back and he was once more tongue tied.

Touya removed his arm from his face and focused on her face. She was leaning back in the seat, her head resting on her hands as she stared at the ceiling. “Since when did Villains started saving heroes?” She scoffed at his question and looked him straight in the eyes. “You heroes have a distorted image of villains in your minds.” She spoke while standing up. She stretched her arms and back, then started to walk out of the room. She stopped at the doorway and looked back. “Leave once you have recovered.” That weird fluttery feeling from before was back in his chest. “You told me to stop coming here. They could have taken me to the hospital. So why?” He grimaced while pushing himself up on his elbow. He didn’t know why but he didn’t want her to leave his side. He couldn’t believe how desperate he had gotten.

“I only saved your life in return for saving mine. That’s all there is to it.” He felt his breath hitch at those words. He was suddenly feeling warm, as if his quirk was activated. Why can’t he behave normally in front of her? What was so different about her? He didn’t know. All he could do was watch her walk away…or so he thought. “Stay” It left his mouth before he could stop himself.

His body froze just as hers. He could feel tingling in his cheeks. He immediately laid back down and covered his face with his arm. He was sure she would just tell him to leave as soon as possible and walk away. She would stop treating him if he showed up unannounced. She would tell him to completely forget about everything that happened between them. He was already preparing himself to forget those soft hands gently treating his wounds. Those eyes filled with slight worry as she treated some of his serious wounds. Those times they drank beer together as she talked excitedly about her ambitions. Those times they badmouthed their parents together. That one time they were too drunk and leaned too close, with their lips brushing slightly. The way his hand rested so perfectly on her waist. The way her breath felt so warm and cozy over his face. The way she looked in to his eyes. The way he whispered sweet nothings in to her ear because she was having a bad day. He understood finally what he was suffering from but it was followed by a realization that it can never work out because he is a hero and she is a villain.

Note: I don't usually write fanfics or have much experience with posting them. This story won't have a proper schedule because I am busy with University. I haven't decided how many parts it will have just yet but I don't plan to make it too long. If you like it then leave likes and comments. I'd love to have some feedback before I post the next part.

#todoroki touya #dabi my hero academia #touya fic #dabi fic #touya x y/n #dabi x self insert #dabi x you #touya x reader #dabi x reader #touya x you #mha endeavour #rei todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #mha touya #bnha writing #villain reader

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aspecpplarebeautiful · 1 year

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last week i told my therapist that i think i'm aroace. i haven't used these exact terms but i described how i feel, and it was the first time i talked about it with someone. the only friend that i talk to about these things only knows that i'm questioning. it felt good and she didn't make me feel uncomfortable or judged. talking about it, explaining it was easier than i thought and i'm really happy that i did it, but it still feels weird to think about using labels. i wish i were one of those people that feels 100% sure of who they are and can live confidently in lgbt+ spaces. i can't seem to be able to do that and i end up feeling like i don't belong anywhere. i feel like i would owe people a convincing enough explanation as to why i'm there when i don't feel comfortable sharing what i think are very private feelings and thoughts. like, i wish to connect with people with my same experience but i never want to talk about my experience because i'm a very private person and i generally don't like people knowing my business. 😅 but i guess i'd like to try and open up more, online at least, and i was wondering if you know of any aspec community spaces online, even outside of tumblr? thank you so much.

Congrats on making that step, Anon. Being more confident with your identity, with using labels, and being more open are all a process. It can take work, but it can get easier too.

For online communities, you can find ace/aro themed servers on Discord by searching Disboard, and I'd recommend trying a few out, and if a server isn't a good fit for you, don't be afraid to move on.

There's Arocalypse, which is an aro-themed forum.

I know Pillowfort has a large ace population at lesat and a few ace/aro themed communities around. And they have open signups now, there's a wait-list but my understanding is that wait-list is very short.

All the best, Anon! Good luck!

I'll ask followers too, does anyone else know any online ace/aro communities they can recommend?

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psychomeows · 2 years

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UTMV Sexuality Headcanons

So it’s Pride Month and I’d figured I’d share my headcanons for everyone's’ sexuality. I figured it’d be fun and who knows maybe I’ll do more headcanon posts in the future.

Nightmare - Demiromantic pansexual. I just feel it fits him, he doesn’t really care about gender and love and romantic attraction isn’t really his thing. He thought he was aromantic until he grew close to Killer then was like “shit guess I’m demi.”

Dream - Demiromantic asexual. This is canon and I like it. I do headcanon him to be demi-panromantic and that might actually be canon because I swore I saw that somewhere but now can’t find it. I also headcanon him to be sex favourable, he enjoys it and does seek it out sometimes but he doesn’t experience sexual attraction.

Ink - Aroace. Again this is canon and I like it. I headcanon him to be sex neutral, he really doesn’t care but will do things out of curiosity. He’s in a weird kind of queer-platonic relationship with Error. They do love each other but everything about their relationship is weird since they are just weird people for many other reasons. (I also love that Ink is aroace because I am too and Ink’s one of my favs, although I’d say I was sex averse.)

Error - If asked for his sexuality he’d say he’s probably demiromantic and demisexual. He’s not really one for labels though and doesn’t really care. He’s not experienced any romantic or sexual attraction to anyone other than Ink and he has no interest in anyone else. Haphephobia doesn’t make exploring his sexuality any easier for Error since the thought of touching anyone (other than Ink under the right circumstances) makes him glitch out.

Geno - If asked he’d jokingly say he’s morosexual before saying seriously that he’s very bi with a slight preference for men. He’s very open about it and will fight anyone who is homophobic and/or transphobic.

Reaper - He’s not too sure about his sexuality and he feels he has bigger problems to deal with than figuring it out. He likes Geno and that’s all that matters to him. Although he does think about it from time to time and figures he’s some kind of multisexual. He’ll just tell some people he’s bi and others he’s pan making it very confusing for them if they hear him saying both. He gets a kick out of this because he doesn’t understand why they want to know so badly since it doesn’t matter and he doesn't owe anyone an explanation.

Blue - Panromantic asexual. Not really much to add to this one other than like Dream he’s sex favourable. I also see Blue as a very vocal activist for equal rights for all.

Cross - Bisexual. Again not much to add other than this is canon and I like it.

Ccino - Gay. He’s very much into men. Too bad his first “boyfriend” was just a really bad choice… He also falls in love very easily.

Colour - Bisexual. He doesn’t really have much of a preference but he feels he fits bi more than pan. It’s also just easier to explain that way since people tend to have more questions about pan than bi.

Killer - Bisexual. He loves using his sexuality as an excuse every time Nightmare tells him to sit properly in his chair. “Killer, don’t sit like that, you'll break the chair and end up with a sore back!” “I can’t; I’m bisexual!” “What you are is an idiot.” He also loves shooting up the peace sign in pictures and proudly announces he’s a peace sign bi. Basically he just loves rolling with the memes.

Dust - Demi-panromantic and demi-pansexual. He really needs to get close to someone before anything can happen. It took him a while to work out since getting close to people is very hard for him, with the ghostly Papyrus and the murderous tendencies.

Horror - He really doesn’t know and doesn’t really care. Like Error he’s not really one for labels. Horror says he’s simply just him. He will use queer if asked and doesn’t want to go into a long speech about it.

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akiyamastar · 11 months

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Just rambling to myself so I'm not tagging anything. Online LGBTQ spaces are... interestingly weird in how they work. Like it's the only place I can be "out" so I think that's cool, considering I can be around a majority of others like me and it won't really matter. But it's such a double-edged sword because there's also an obsession with labels and specifying what they mean to the point that people try to classify you as not "actually" being part of them.

The good part of these spaces is that our existence is recognized, but the bad part is the amount of infighting over things that seriously do not matter. Invalidation of people's feelings to affirm certain labels over others and create some status quo overtake hearing individuals out and understanding that if they are LGBTQ, they simply are. There is no need to label it. You can remain unlabeled and be perfectly fine. You don't owe anyone an explanation or need to tell anyone or "prove it" with your life experiences.

I think I especially see misconceptions with the community understanding those who arospec, and especially if you just consider yourself "aroace". People think that means, "You're not attracted to anyone. Therefore, you do not understand the struggles of the community." Others may think it's some default for het people, reinforcing the same mindset of assuming het as a default that the community had originally wanted to combat.

The funny part is that those who are aroace definitely feel attachments toward others. It's just not in a conventional way that one would feel a romantic crush, but the way they feel close to others is so misunderstood. They might love someone a lot, but just not be on the same "page" of that love as someone who has romantic love for them, leading to confusing and frustrating experiences for aroaces and anyone who's arospec. It's hard to word, but it's like there's something else besides crushes that can happen in a different font.

Undoubtedly, though, what aroace people go through is something that they are still shunned for. There are awkward conversations where they won't understand alloromantic contexts. They also go through struggles in trying to establish normal relationships, just like anyone else in the LGBTQ community. I'd say that if they feel the shoe fits, then it does. You don't need to try to label how you feel love either if you think it's hard.

Idk why I tend to say so much on tumblr for no reason. Hi

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cityinagardxn · 1 year

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asexuality. what is that nonsense. i will call myself asexual, but is that the truth? how broad of a label for the nuanced thoughts and experiences i am in possession of.

once again, brought back to the dumpster fire that are labels. can’t stand ‘em. but we need them. i don’t want them! agh!

everyone has their own opinion on what counts as asexual though. how terrible. some even deny that it means queer. even worse. is there any sort of validation? sorry, no.

so, have you experienced sexual attraction?

no. i mean, probably not. i don’t think so. damn.

allow me to explain, please. not once have i ever looked at someone and thought: “yes, that person is attractive in the way that makes me want to have sex with them.” no, that has never occurred.

so, have you ever desired sex?

yes, but not until relatively recently. does that disqualify my asexuality?

once again, allow me to elaborate. i never thought i would be able to be comfortable enough with a person to be sexually intimate with them. i thought there was nothing someone else could do for me in that way that i couldn’t do for myself. however, it appears i have been proven wrong.

you see, my dear, sweet, wonderful partner seems to have changed my view on all things sexual and intimate, not that i had much of a view previously. and it’s great, because he’s asexual too!

wait, he’s asexual too? then why are you guys even having sex? that doesn’t make any sense, you’re both disqualified. this is why asexual people are just straight people in disguise. someone call the authorities!

no, please. you’ve got this all wrong. his experience is almost the exact same as mine. the fact that we were able to successfully navigate intimacy for the first time in a way we were both comfortable with is probably a miracle. you really don’t understand.

physical closeness with him led to more sexual-ish intimacy, which eventually led to actually sexual intimacy. it was a progression! being asexual doesn’t mean sex can’t feel good!

oh please. so you’re both a little prudish. you aren’t a whore. good job. you “saved yourself for the right person.” nice. you still just want to be special.

listen. i am quite confident that if i attempted to have sex with anyone else, who i didn’t have the same connection i have with my partner, sex would be weird and uncomfortable and bad. sex without an emotional connection is worthless. plus, i don’t think that i’m sexually attracted to my partner in a conventional way. i wasn’t even aesthetically attracted to him for the majority of the time i knew him prior to dating. is that mean to say?

how can you have enjoyable sex with someone you’re not sexually attracted to then?

i am attracted to him in many ways. emotionally, romantically, aesthetically (more now), physically (non-sexual, just like to touch), etc. and the enjoyment from sex feeds off of those types of attraction. i am not repulsed by sex, like some people who are asexual. this does lead to question if i am actually experiencing sexual attraction sometimes, but i don’t think i am. and i never desired actual sex with another person until i had sex with my partner, and even now that desire is only projected onto him.

you don’t really sound like you’re fully asexual. you could probably define yourself as something more specific that describes your identity better.

yeah, see, that’s the thing. i’d really rather not. sometimes i think that comes from internalized queer-phobia at hyper-specific labels and how society as a whole views those. that very well could be a part of it. but it also just seems like so much effort and self analysis. which is ironic, as i love to self analyze. however, just because i may not fit your specific idea of asexual, does not mean i don’t fit on the spectrum. i am for sure sex positive, maybe i am demisexual, or graysexual, or whatever else. but i do not owe it to anyone to define myself in such a particular way that it makes them more comfortable in how to view the validity of my identity. i will likely continue to say asexual, because to me it encompasses the asexual spectrum, which is pretty vast. and then again, the asexuality is only part of it. i am queer for being asexual, and a big fuck you to anyone who says otherwise, but i would also date anyone of any gender, not that that should be a deciding factor for anyone to determine the validity of my queerness.

#my inner monologue of asexuality and the constant debate i have with myself #asexuality #sex positive ace #thoughts #this is very freeform

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personalblogsposts · 2 years

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Hard lessons learned:

- Threw a lot of people that I teached to walk over me out of my life. Which was basically... Anyone. Turns out most people that want to be friends with a insecure doormat yes-man aren't really that interested in you, but the attention and validation you give them.

- you can not be 'right'. There is no universal right or wrong, just do what you really want while keeping the people you affect in mind. Sometimes you will fuck up and you will learn from that.

- the feelings of others aren't universally right and you don't need to walk on egg shells around anyone. If they say you hurt them, evaluate that. You absolutly can and should tell people off when you feel manipulated and gaslighted. If the person is overreacting tell them off too. You help neither them or yourself if you enable their poor emotional management. Yes that will hurt them, but you deserve people you can have the relationships you need with. Yes you may be wrong. But you will learn from that too.

- you don't need to love yourself. Just be yourself, you'll be fine.

- your 'bad' parts are you as well. You don't have a higher self and you shouldn't convince yourself of such bullshit. Your higher self is just another unrealistic ideal you will never life up to.

- I need to stress this: Humans. Are. Not. Made. To. Be. Happy. All. The. Time. !!! Our uncontentness is the reason we are so successfull as a species. It's not biologically possible to be that rainbows-out-your-ass gaia hippie orange peeling mary oliver kindness girl you want to be. Be angry, be spiteful, be sad. Enjoy all the shades of human emotion and not just the stuff that's desired. By shutting out negative emotions you give them power to mess with your subcontious. You do not want that shit.

- self improvement is nothing but capitalist propaganda. Stop licking the boot, allow yourself to enjoy resting, living, breathing

- if you would rather be suffering and thin than emotionally thriving and overweight: get. Help. Gurl that aint normal

- instagram body positivity is honestly just as toxic as 'toxic beauty standards'. Your looks shouldn't matter to you, all bodys rule, abolish the concept of beauty

- there is absoluty no need for anyone to post their body and face online. Stop taking selfies, delete social media, thrive

- delete social media.

- you need conflict to grow and evolve a romantic relationship. if there is no fighting, someone is not being honest about their feelings

- you *really* don't need to safe anyone. most of the time the people that beg you to safe them are stuck in learned helplessness. helping them will actually enable them. don't play therapist, you're only playing yourself girl

- if someone in your life constantly complaines that everyone leaves eventually, there is probably a reason for that and it's probably them. If you are *that* person, yes, the reason is you (been there, done that). Try to see a therapist

- talk about your feelings but listen to the feedback

- sometimes you are the bad one in someone elses story and ther's nothing you can do about it.

- if any kind of relationship drags you down, leave. you don't owe anything to anyone actually

- balance is key, there is no one fit all approach, you'll always have to adapt and stay adaptable for what's actually happening. That's why there's no need for overplaning and overthinking anything. Just pick a direction and keep going

- check your ego. no need to kill it, but just check it from time to time

- stop comodifying yourself. You don't need all of those labels and aesthetic markers for someone to love you.

- twitter politics are so far removed from how real people think and feel it's actually funny

- it really doesn't matter anymore what anyone anywhere thinks about you if you start to value your own opinions

- trying to second guess all the time what others are thinking and feeling towards you isn't healthy. stay in your lane and get out of their business.

- the people who broke you cant fix you, don't let them in again

- some things you can't heal, but you can manage to live with them

- there is no magic fix, the beginning of healing is a long, dirty road that hurts more than being back on your bullshit

- your pain isn't anyones responsibility but yours.

- you've got to safe yourself

#recovery #mental health #growth

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free--therapy · 1 year

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Hello, it's 🌼 anon! I hope you're doing well.

This is something I've mentioned before but can i ask how do i learn to accept myself for my own opinions without comparing myself to the majority?

There are many things I've mentioned before, all the actions i regret doing and stuff like that. But sometimes when I'm around people i love, i end up thinking "do i deserve to be around these amazing people?" I mean, i feel like someone like me who has watched weird content online and has so many different opinions doesn't "deserve" to be around people.

I'm not sure why but i just sometimes end up seeing others (especially people who are nice) as "normal and good" while i see myself as someone who is "abnormal or weird" when it comes to certain things. so i feel like i don't have a place in a community where others are "good or normal"

It's like I'm believing some random past actions of mine almost like an "identity" or label of sorts and i treat/see myself based on that. Like "I'm a person who made so many mistakes or did some bad things or watched xyz content" so because of all this, i feel i am weird and not as normal as others so i end up thinking, "do i deserve to be a part of a community where everyone else is so normal? Surely they would've never done something like this?"

This eventually ends up making me think that "if these people were to know these things about me, they definitely wouldn't accept me either" and i end up feeling like i shouldn't try to fit in because they're gonna be disgusted by me.

Maybe I'm being too harsh on myself? Maybe I'm jumping to extreme conclusions again?

But what am i supposed to do? Is it more like...i should develop this pattern of thinking where i should learn to respect myself enough to truly believe that i don't deserve to be treated badly based on my past or my differing opinions?

I mean, it's not like i can go around people and whenever i feel like i don't belong, i can't really just go up and spill out my past to every single person i want to be friends with or something, right? But i feel like i keep them in the dark or like I'm deceiving them by not coming clear about everything. Obviously this is not practical though.

I feel like i need to learn and believe that I don't need to explain myself (my past, my opinions) to everyone just to be able to fit in with them or be liked by them. I don't owe anyone any explanations for it.

Like if i watched something weird when i was young, i don't need to explain it or come clear about it to someone just to be able to deserve their love right? After all, it has nothing to do with them. Yet i keep feeling "yeah it has nothing to do with them but think about it, if they did know, would they treat you the same way?" And this thought really messes me up sometimes tbh

But can i ask you something though? If a person changes the way they treat me or if someone treats me badly just because i watched something they are disgusted by, if i have opinions they think are weird and stuff, then does that mean that person is not right for me? I mean, if they treat me badly because of these things about me, then are they at fault? Or is it my fault that i am like this?

I don't know if they're wrong or if it's me.... in that case. I do feel like i don't need to explain myself to everyone because i inherently deserve to be loved by people without feeling like i need to come clear aboyt whatever. And to begin with, if they were the type of person who would treat someone badly just because of this then doesn't that mean that the person is not someone who i should be around anyway?

what i mean is, we don't need to be explaining all our faults or mistakes or even opinions to everyone and waiting for them to judge us before feeling like we belong among them. if i feel like maybe they'll be disgusted by me then isn't that simply just my anxious thoughts feeding me lies?

And i don't need to explain myself then? To anyone? Is it okay to enjoy what i enjoy, think what i think, get along with people without feeling like i need their or someone's else's permission beforehand? is it okay to not share all my shortcomings with people around me or on the internet and still believe that i too "fit in" or "belong" to different communities just the way i am now?

i mean, there will always be people who understand my opinions too or who share my opinions or even people who might not understand but still decide to respect me regardless?

so instead of feeling like i need to be coming clear about everything to everyone and waiting for them to judge me or pass on their judgement on whether i belong in the community or not, would it be alright if i just decide that "whatever. i want to belong in this community and i want to be part of it so i will. i don't need someone's permission nor do i need to confess everything i think is wrong with me because nothing's wrong. i am my own person and i'm okay the way i am, with all my mistakes and opinions. who i am now is important and even then, it doesn't mean i need someone's approval to feel good about something. If i like it, i do and no one can tell me i don't deserve to "like" something just because i did some mistakes or just because i have different opinions than their own.

i still deserve to love what i want to love and belong where i want to instead of always overthinking it so much.

right now how I'm combating these thoughts is when i feel like "they wouldn't treat me nicely if they knew" i tell myself "but there's nothing wrong to begin with when it comes to my opinions, they're just different from the majority maybe. as for my mistakes, they don't need to know because it shouldn't matter either way."

"I deserve to love what i want to love regardless of ANYTHING" is this okay?

Sorry if this doesn't make sense, and thank you for reading!

Hey Anon 🌼

It's nice to hear from you. I have been doing fairly well, thanks for asking :)

You just have to learn how to stay true to yourself and your beliefs. We so badly want to fit it with other people or seek validation from other people when we hold certain beliefs because we want to know we have the right opinion on something, but in reality, there is not a single thing in the world that 100% of the people can agree on…not even the things you'd think everyone should know as fact. Give yourself the permission to be okay with being different. It doesn't make you a bad person to be different.

You most definitely deserve to be around the people you love! I'm sure even they have done things in their lives, whether past or present, that they're ashamed of. The great thing about family and friends and loved ones is that their love is generally unconditional. You also have no idea what kinds of shameful things they're involved in or have been involved in in their past that they would think you would probably shun them for if they brought them up. It's so easy to think we're so much more different than the people around us, when so many of us are guilty of similar things. It's very easy for people to hide things from you to make you think they're normal. Regardless of whether or not they have their shame and dark secrets, I'm sure you'd still love them regardless. Why not grant that same unconditional love towards yourself? No one is perfect and there will always be things people won't want to talk about. Doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

I think you're definitely being more harsh and critical of yourself. But so many of us do this, so it's not surprising to me that you'd think that way about yourself. You most definitely have to work on your self-respect as it'll help you develop your sense of self-worth. It's a process and a journey, but it starts by not betraying yourself by thinking you don't deserve this or that because of your mistakes.

Yes, you definitely don't owe anyone an explanation for anything you've done. If people reject you because of your past, then they're not worth being around or being friends with. Like I said, no one is perfect and if people can't forgive or accept people because of things they've done in the past, not only are they hypocritical, but they also lack the concept of unconditional love and sooo many people fail at this too unfortunately!

"But can i ask you something though? If a person changes the way they treat me or if someone treats me badly just because i watched something they are disgusted by, if i have opinions they think are weird and stuff, then does that mean that person is not right for me? I mean, if they treat me badly because of these things about me, then are they at fault? Or is it my fault that i am like this?

It just means that they lack the ability to be understanding and compassionate. A lot of people jump to conclusions because there's a lot of stigma around taboo subjects. It doesn't make the rejection easier, but if people aren't willing to understand why you did what you did and love you regardless, then yea, maybe they're not right for you. If they treat you badly or differently because of it, then that too shows lack of compassion…but that being said, we can't expect everyone to accept us. That's on them to figure that out and not ourselves. I think if they took the time to understand that it's something you're aware of as being something unfavorable by people and that you feel remorse or regret because you were just being curious, then they'd have no reason to have to be so harsh. It's really not any of our responsibility to live up to the perceptions or ideas people have of us in their heads. If they can't accept you, flaws and all, then that's their problem. People can and should still be friends with people, even if they disagree on certain things.

if i feel like maybe they'll be disgusted by me then isn't that simply just my anxious thoughts feeding me lies?

Yes. You're using the cognitive distortion of jumping to conclusions/fortune telling or catastrophizing. It's so much easier to assume things negatively than positively, so it's natural for us to assume people wouldn't be so understanding.

Absolutely, 100% it's okay. If people can accept and respect you for your unique differences, then those are the kinds of people you want to be around.

You definitely don't need anyone's permission or approval to be yourself. You're allowed to exist and take up space in the communities that you wish to be a part of. You will eventually find your tribe of people who love and accept you exactly for who you are, flaws and all. It may feel like you'll never find these people, but you will! Just never give up because people reject you.

You most definitely do deserve to love what you love and find joy in it, regardless of what other people may think of it. You have to follow your own journey and maybe one say you'll naturally find that it's not resonating with you anymore so you'll move onto something else. But for now, just embrace what you love, even if others may not agree with it.

#ask #answered #anon #shame #guilt #mistakes #fear of rejection

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ssa-sugar-tits · 4 years

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No One Special

Request: this one

Spencer x female reader where she’s a celebrity and they’re dating (secretly ofc) you can make it fluffy, angsty, whatever! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: You say in an interview that you aren't seeing anyone and inadvertently hurt your boyfriend, Spencer.

Content warnings: angst, swearing, insecurity, self-depreciation, crying, arguing/yelling, knife mention

Pattering, fitting rain adds to your gut turning mood as you try to figure out what you could possibly to say to Spencer. Deep seated guilt begs incessantly to make everything better but you just can't find the words good enough to fix what you caused a fragile crack in. You feel like there's a locked door in front of you and not a single key works.

"Here we are with Y/N Y/L/N!" Applause filled the room like a real life movie. You beamed and waved, showcasing your wide smile before you sat down.

"We are so happy to have you here with us." The interviewer, Missy Lakewood, grinned and turned to the eager audience. "Aren't we?"

More thrilling excitement showered the room, much to your appreciation.

"I'm happy to be here!" you chuckled at the sweet enthusiasm.

"Your last project was a big success and I'm certain your next one will be too." Smiling and allowing a lovely heat rise to the apples of your cheeks, she continued. "There is however one thing we don't really know about you. Is there a lucky someone charming our starlight sweetheart?"

Your bare feet pace around the floor of his empty apartment, sending chills to your core despite how warm it always is. You used the spare key to get in, planning to wait for him to come home. Spencer hasn't returned any of your calls or texts since the interview and it's leaving an intolerable burden on your back. But more importantly, you can't stand the thought of him being alone with his thoughts. He's never been good with his emotions-- he takes knives and stabs at his own gushing wounds. It had been his decision to keep your relationship private and you respect that but you took it too far this time. He must know how sorry you are, right?

"I see we're getting personal right off the bat," you joked. "If you must know... No, there isn't anyone special in my life at the moment.

"Well that is just everyone's loss, ain't it?" The belle joked. It didn't hit you until much later that you said what you said.

The door lock finally jingles and you jump with a horrible mix of anticipation paired with profound relief.

"Spence, I've been..." you trail off, your jaw dropping slightly when you see him. His usually dancing, filled with life but now red rimmed eyes look down to the floor.

"You're just letting yourself into my apartment now?" He exhales coldly. Taken aback, your lip quivers and you swallow the growing urge to cry.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You whisper.

"Did you mean it?"

"What?"

"When you said I was no one special. Did you mean it Y/N?"

The inescapable, sour taste of fear engulfs you. Opening your mouth to speak, you take in a sharp breath of air. And that's all it took, a split second of hesitation.

"Spence, how could you possibly think that?"

You're not even sure if you're audible, your avoiding words hovering in the air like a child afraid to step on glass.

"That's not an answer, Y/N."

Spencer was finishing up some paperwork when JJ strided into the bullpen, her new set of bright blue earrings swinging in the air, joyfully.

"Guess. What." She was smirking with eagerness and Emily gave in to her antics instantly.

"What is it JJ?"

"You owe me $40 and I'm getting a new pair of shoes!" She cracked a smile and awaited the brow-furrowed woman's response.

"Do I get to know why you're taking my money?" She retorted playfully, knowing it had to be one of the many bets they've placed.

"Y/N Y/L/N isn't dating anyone!"

Spencer stopped mid-breath and perked up to the women conversing, a lock of wild hair framing his face.

"What did you two bet on?" He asked, knowing the answer but wanting more explanation. He knew it was his decision to keep you a secret, there were too many threatening risks that came with his job and too many spotlight distractions that came with yours.

"Whether Y/N Y/L/N was dating anyone or not. Looks like JJ put me out $40," Emily explained, rummaging through her wallet. She turned to the still silently celebrating blonde. "So how exactly do you know this?"

"She was on that morning show, Good Morning with Missy, and Missy asked her if she was seeing anyone." She takes two twenty-dollar bills from Emily, going on with the story. "Y/N said, and I quote, 'No, there isn't anyone special in my life at the moment.'"

With eleven words, you managed to rip his fast beating heart out of his chest and crush it between your fingers. Of course he was no one special.

Your eyes widen and you spit out a ridiculously useless retort instead of reassuring your hurt boyfriend.

"Don't profile me, I am not a fucking suspect." Watery drops try to well up in your eyes but you strain to hold them back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N." Thick, angry sarcasm coats his escalating words. "I wonder what it's like to be labeled something you aren't. I wonder what it could possibly be like to be hurt by something that someone you love said!"

He's the one fighting hot tears now. A dam breaks loose in you and yell back at him, feeling a rush you know you'll live to regret.

"What the hell did you want me to do?! I thought we agreed on protecting each other! No one can come after me if they don't know about me and no one can stop you from doing your job with shallow fame related bullshit, so tell me Spencer, how else am I supposed to answer a question like that?"

Reasoning jumps out the window onto a trampoline of bitterness.

"This isn't going to work out. Get out of my apartment." He screams internally at you, don't go. I don't mean it. You hear it in the back of your mind, rising from your heart.

Don't go Y/N.

You can work this out.

What you have is special.

"If that's how you feel, then okay. Goodbye Spencer."

It shocks you both to your core when you slam the apartment door behind you, not looking back as you leave. Each footstep on the stairs mirrors the deafening beating of your aching, remorseful heart. You arrive to your car and gasp loudly, hoping to halt the storming tears leaking from your scrunched eyes. How could you leave?

"So stupid!" you mutter, sinking your head into your shaking hands. "Fucking... hell...!"

Your sobs grow louder and uncontrollable without his kind soul to hold you. He'll come for you. He has to. Just another minute, it can't end like this.

The minute turns to ten.

Ten to thirty.

An hour.

"Oh my god," you finally whisper. "It's over."

You take a hand to the door handle, almost going back and telling him you love him. Telling him that he's worth staying for. He is someone special.

But you take back your hand, take a long deep breath, and drive away.

Who were you kidding? Two vastly different people like you-- two broken people like you.

Some things aren't meant to be.

masterlist

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x you #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

WandaNat x Reader : Kiss The Chef

Summary: Food is the way to the heart! In this case at least.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,883

* * * * * *

“I said minced, this is chopped.” You resist the urge to shout, instead choosing a mild anger.

The man frowns, eyes glancing at the garlic on the cutting board and back to you.

He clearly doesn’t know the difference.

A deep sigh wracks your body before you fan him aside, picking up the chef’s knife and a fresh garlic clove. Then mincing it yourself and making sure he sees the difference.

“Now you certainly don’t sound like someone who loves their job.”

Setting the knife down, you wipe your hands off on your towel, and turn to your long time friend and pain in the ass, Mister Tony Stark.

“Why are you in my kitchen Anthony?” You ask, passing him, and stopping at the sauce station to taste test.

Tony feigns hurt, hand over his heart,“ that is no way to greet a friend.”

You simply look at him, a bored expression on your face. In short telling him to get on with it because you have a kitchen to run.

He nods,“ alright alright. I’m here to cash in that favor you owe me.”

“Did you not do that already? Cause I’m pretty sure I catered your second wedding my friend.” You remind him.

Clicking his tongue, he tells you,“ you got paid. That was a job, this is a favor.”

The urge to groan is high but you don’t. A deal is a deal.

“What is it?”

* * * * *

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you eye the large facility, before heading inside with a sigh.

Tony is waiting at the door for you with an all too familiar smug grin on his face. If you were the violent type you would’ve smacked it off.

“Don’t look so proud.” You huff.

Chuckling, he throws his arm around your shoulder and begins the tour of his compound. He takes you around to the gym, shows you his lab, and the living quarters where your temporary room is, then finally shows you the way to the kitchen.

As you walk you memorize where you’re going, since this’ll be the route you take most often for the next month.

Once inside, you survey the room with narrowed eyes, checking all of the equipment it’s fitted with. It’s all state of the art, which Tony brags about, and it’s not a problem but it does mean you’ll have to get acquainted with it all.

Tony also informs you of F.R.I.D.A.Y his fully automated A.I. He let’s you know how it works, how to order fresh ingredients, and how to pull up recipes(mainly his favorite meals but also those of his teammates.

“And the pièce de résistance.” He jokes, then grabbing a f/c fabric and shaking it out.

‘Kiss The Chef’ is written across the front of the apron in white and Tony happily places it around your neck, despite the blank expression on your face.

The man always finds your stoic and aloof personality amusing. Especially since, while cautious, he proves to be the exact opposite. Still you two are friends.

You’re expecting Tony to leave. With it being well past six you decide to prepare dinner and the man knows you’d rather he not hover. But he does.

Still you move through the kitchen with the same grace as you do your restaurant.

With this being your first day as their chef, you want to make a good impression, so you fix a meal you’d perfected long before you’d become a professional chef.

All the while you’d had to stop Tony from dipping into the food you made. Snapping at him more than once and slapping his hands away from the food. Until eventually you kicked him from the kitchen with a task to go get everyone.

Using that time to set each plate on the table, with white wine as it’s a compliment to the pasta dish. Making sure they all look presentable and that the table looks nice but not cluttered, you go back into the kitchen to give them their space to eat.

You don’t even try to hide your proud grin when you hear their reactions to it. First their awe at the set up and then the silent chatter about how much they enjoy the meal.

As you wait, you nibble on the leftover food and drink a beer. Until Tony comes in to bring you to meet everyone.

“Guys this is a friend of mine, Y/n. Y/n this is Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha, Carol, and Rhodey.” You nod to everyone, eyes lingering on the brunette Wanda and the red head Natasha.

They look familiar you just can’t place where you’d seen them, so you move past that.

“Y/n is the chef who prepared this meal. As a favor to me, she’s agreed to be our chef for the next month, hopefully by which we can have the position filled permanently.

Everyone nods at his information and the man you now know as Rhodey speaks up,“ well thank god for that. This was incredible. I’m assuming you have experience as a chef.”

Nodding you tell him,“ I’m head chef at a restaurant in Manhattan called-”

“Pezzo di Paradiso.” Wanda interrupts with wide eyes.

Beside her, her redhead girlfriend holds the same expression.

How had they not noticed? You work at their favorite restaurant. And this is a dish they’d thought tasted familiar.

They’d seen you more than a few times there. They even considered asking to thank you after a meal on more than one occasion but always became flustered at the idea of having an actual conversation with you.

Mainly Wanda. The young woman had developed a crush on you that grew with each visit to your restaurant. A crush that Natasha had continuously teased her about, despite her own attraction to you.

Now you’re to be in their home for an entire month.

That seems to fly by quicker than anyone liked.

Over the next couple weeks the team finds themselves loving absolutely everything you cook and growing to like you as a person in general, which admittedly takes a moment since you’re pretty closed off.

Some nights were spent teaching one of them a certain recipe or valuable techniques. Your two main “students” being Wanda and Natasha.

At first the women weren’t sure about invading your environment as you worked but you’d assured them you didn’t mind showing them some stuff. Especially since you allowed their teammates to learn from you.

What everyone had begun to notice was your approach to the women. While with everyone else you were stern and slightly frustrated, you were much more patient and forgiving with them.

On more than one occasion Tony found you smiling or chuckling softly at Natasha’s mistakes with meals or Wanda’s curiosity toward the meals you made.

He’d teasingly asked you why didn’t snap at them for hovering or being in your space and when you stumbled to answer him he knew. Your month in the compound had lead you to develop feelings for the women.

Which had ate away at you.

The women are in a relationship. Clearly in love with one another. You knew that your feelings for them would amount to nothing as they are obviously happy together.

But that doesn’t make leaving any less hard.

Your month is up. Tonight is your last night as their chef. So you plan to go all out, as both a thank you and a goodbye.

Using F.R.I.D.A.Y, you pull together everyone’s favorite meals. It’d been a while since you yourself cooked eight different meals but you still give it your all. Even when you set the table.

You have F.R.I.D.A.Y call everyone down after you’ve set name cards around the table. You know there’s a chance that you’ve overstepped, having left red roses at Wanda’s and Natasha’s spots.

It’s your way of telling them that they are indeed special to you, without the risk of saying the words to them and having that blow up.

As had become usual, you hear their excited chatter as they sit down, and even their comments pointing out the difference in their spots to Wanda’s and Natasha’s.

You present them all with a three course meal. Starting simply with salads for everyone, again being special with Natasha and Wanda as you give them soups from their countries of origin.

The second the smell of the Shchi hits Natasha her mouth waters and while she is mesmerized by the food, she finds herself mainly focused on you as you place a bowl of Zöldségleves in front of Wanda.

Both women then look at you.

It’s clear you’d paid more than enough attention to them as they spent time with you in the kitchen. And you’d noticed the few times the women mentioned missing the taste of food from their homes.

Which is further proven when you serve them their favorite meals from their home countries. Chicken Paprikash for Wanda and Pelmeni for Natasha.

By the end of the night everyone is stuffed, not leaving though until they toast to you and thank you for your services.

Natasha and Wanda, set on one particular goal, wait for everyone to leave, before going into the kitchen.

They find you putting away the leftovers from each dish, named sticker labels pressed to the side of the tupperware. As always they’re flustered and attracted to the sight of you moving in the kitchen so elegantly. Like this is truly your element.

“Oh,” you finally notice them, taking a hardly noticeable step back in shock,“ is there something I can help you ladies with?” You ask, ignoring the heat that’s begun to rush up your neck at the realization of your situation.

“In fact there is.” Natasha says, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You’re almost positive this is the moment they tear you a new one for leaving the roses and obviously making their meals more special than the rest of the teams.

“We were hoping we could give our compliments to the chef.” Wanda speaks slowly, a small purposeful step forward.

Fighting a confused frown, you nod,“ um, well, compliments received.”

The women take notice of your nervous state. It isn’t often that you act this way. As you usually keep a cool and collected air around yourself.

And unbeknownst to you, this gives them every bit of information they need. Their thoughts that you are attracted to them as they are you had just been confirmed by you.

“Actually, Wanda and I believe our actions could speak much louder than our words.” Natasha’s voice drops to a flirty tone.

You aren’t sure if you heard her right, but it’s clear you did when Wanda nods and takes yet another step forward.

Hesitantly, she reaches for your hand, and releases a breath when you let her take it.“ We’d really like to show you are gratitude.”

Her innocent words hold a suggestive tone and you swallow, glancing at Natasha who simply smiles reassuringly. So you nod and let them pull you from the kitchen.

You aren’t sure if this will be more than it’s implied to be but you’re eager to find out.

* * * * * *

#wandanat #wandanat x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #asks #request #reader insert

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mercurysstars · 3 years

Text

The Shadow Thief (part 4)

Summary: what happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing

A/n: I apologize for the late chapter! :)

"What the fuck." Peter said wide-eyed.

Peter quickly parked the car and unbutton his seatbelt. He opened the door and stepped out in front of the car. The Avengers compound was destroyed, all of the windows were busted through, the doors were broken and even a few walls were missing.

Peter felt as though his stomach was twisted into 10 knots. It was like some sort of sick joke. Could they really be gone? They were the earth's mightiest heroes, right? He clenched his fist, Peter felt tears weld up in his eyes but he never let them fall.

Y/n got out of the car and walked next to him. When she approached him, he didn't say a word, he just stood there and stared. After a few moments of silence, Y/n gave him a little nudge "Let's see if we can find anything inside."

Peter didn't say anything to acknowledge her but he followed her. Y/n stepped through the broken glass door. The electricity was cut so the elevator didn't work. She found the stairs so she began to climb.

The first floor they enter was the laboratories. They were all a wreck, it looked like they all had been scavenged through. Desks were flipped, papers were scattered, glass was everywhere.

Y/n looked over to Peter. His face was blank void of any emotions but she sensed he was still stuck in a state of shock. They needed to leave. She figured by now that who it was attacked them earlier had found where they were and sending another load of soldiers.

"Peter, where is the Avengers weaponry?" She asked. He didn't say anything or point anywhere. Y/n cursed him and herself.

Not knowing what else to do Y/n began to search through the lab to see if she could find anything that could help them. Y/n noticed a random bookshelf along the wall. What were the chances that could be a secret door?

Y/n walked over to the shelf. With all of her knowledge from cliché movies, Y/n began to pull on random books. Every time one didn't work she would throw it backward.

Finally, Y/n pulled on a book about ants. She heard a noise and the bookshelf moved backward. She mentally high-fived herself. Y/n looked over to Peter "Stay there." She told him. She figured he probably wouldn't have moved anyway.

Y/n walked down a flight of stairs and pushed open another door. When she opened the door her jaw nearly fell slack. It was a lab but 100x nicer. It felt like something out of a movie.

There were huge screens and holograms. There were long desks with pieces of different robots on them. Y/n figured this is where Tony and Bruce did their work.

There was a big cabinet labeled spider-boy. She tried to open the cabinet but it was locked. She tried again but ultimately failed. Y/n grabbed one of the screwdrivers off of the table and stuck it in the lock. She balled up her fist at the end and hit her palm against her fist. The lock gave Y/n a shock "Fuck."

The cabinet swung open revealing tons of different equipment. There was a bag at the bottom that Y/n assumed was Peters. She grabbed the bag and began to shove everything that could fit. She grabbed web fluid, web-shooters and she might have even grabbed one of his suits.

Y/n zipped up the bag a knife caught her eye on the other side of the room. She walked over to the knife. It was black with a few gold lines running through the middle. Y/n picked up then knife and a screen popped up.

A video began to play with a shaken up Tony Stark "Anyone who watches this SOS. You are in danger meet—."

The video paused and a voice interrupted "Vehicle approaching. Click to watch surveillance footage."

Y/n clicked on the button a video popped up of several SUVs pulling onto the road leading to the compound. Y/n was confused. Why would this pop-up? She looked at the corner for the date. The footage was live. She swore she felt her heart leap out of her chest.

Y/n tucked the knife in her pocket and booked it up the stairs. Peter was still where she left him and she ran over to him. "We need to go." He stared at the wall

"Peter we need to go like right now." He still didn't make a move.

Y/n decided to say fuck it and take matters into her own hand. If he didn't want to move she would make him. Y/n took a deep breath and slapped Peter as hard as she could. "Get it together."

Peter's hand flew to his cheek and he glared at her "Ow! That hurt." Peter shrieked.

"Good. We need to leave. They already found us again."

"Tony told me about a few safe houses just in case something ever did happen."

"Good enough for me." Y/n took the bag off her bag and shoved it into Peter's hands. What was he good for if not super strength.

They ran down the stairs, sometimes skipping two or three at a time. They ran through the door and to the car. Right as they got 10 feet within the car it exploded and caused them to fly backward.

"Son of a bitch." Y/n exclaimed. Her ears were ringing from the loud noise.

"That was our only ride out." Peter groaned. He was sure they were going to die. He figured he had a good enough run. He was surprised he lasted this long anyway.

"Maybe not."

Peter followed Y/n's line of sight to a motorcycle "Are you crazy?" There was no way in hell he was getting on that. He rather take his chances with the SWAT team.

Y/n gave Peter a look. One that over the few times he's meet her he's grown to know almost too well. She was going to do something risky, stupid, but not necessarily unnecessary.

Y/n gave Peter a wave before she broke into a full sprint toward the bike. She was going to get herself killed. Peter clenched his fists before running after her.

Shots began flying toward them and Y/n hopped on the bike. Peter got on the bag, she quickly started the bike and pulled off before he got the chance to argue.

After 30 minutes of riding in a random direction into the woods, Y/n pulled over. Peter unwrapped his arms from around her waist and got off the bike.

Peter walked over to a tree, bent over, and threw up. Y/n grimaced and quickly looked away. He may be strong but his stomach surely isn't. Of course, she didn't say that she figured he was occupied enough for the moment.

When Peter was done he walked over to Y/n and threw his hands up in the air "What in the actual fuck. You could've gotten us killed."

Y/n had to suppress the urge to laugh. She noticed whenever Peter got mad his face scrunched up and got red. "I just saved your ass. You surely could have stayed back there and tango with the death squad."

"Jesus Y/n. Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?" Peter shouted.

"Well actually no." He had gotten her there "My fight or flight had kicked in and that's good enough for me." She put her hands on her hips.

Peter let out a long sigh. She was crazy. Actually fucking batshit crazy. "We need to get to a safe house, and figure out a plan."

Well isn't he just a bright one? "Well, Mr. Parker be my guest." She pointed to the bike "Unless you're too scared." She challenged.

"I'm not scared." Okay so maybe he was a little scared but he wasn't going to tell Y/n that. He walked over to the motorcycle and swung his leg around. It was just like riding a Bike. Right?

Y/n swung her leg around the back of the bike and sat behind Peter. She wrapped her arms around his waist "How Are We going to get there? Does your Spidey sense show you the path to follow?" She teased.

"It doesn't work like that." He grumbled as he pulled off.

They drove for what felt like hours. Y/n was pretty sure she dozen off a few times from the lack of scenery. Her arms were starting to ache and her but were starting to get sore from driving on the gravel road.

Finally, they pulled in front of a big cabin. It was huge, it looked like a place someone would go to get away for a weekend. The cabin was surrounded by trees and behind it was a lake.

Peter turned off the bike and they both got off. They walk up the stairs to the porch. Peter punched in a few numbers. There was a camera above the door. Peter walked through the door. A voice came through a speaker "Welcome, Peter Parker."

When Y/n tried to walk through the door the voice came through again "Unauthorized personal."

Y/n looked over to Peter. He had a clueless look on his face and he shrugged. Not knowing what else to do Y/n looked at the camera "Y/n Y/l/n."

"Access granted. Welcome, Y/n Y/l/n."

Y/n walked through the door "I wasn't sure that it would work." Peter laughed.

Y/n looked at Peter and narrowed her eyes "We came all the way out here when you weren't even sure if I could get into the damn safe house."

"I took a calculated risk." Peter crossed his arms.

"Oh so when you take a chance it's a calculated risk but when I do it's stupid and reckless."

"Before I take a risk I weigh all my options but when you do it's always spontaneous and mindless."

"Well, my spontaneous decisions saved your ass more times than I can count."

"Can you stop swearing for like 2 seconds?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Peter. Does my fucking swearing bother you?" Y/n seethed.

"I can't with you." Peter sighed pinching the bridge of his nose "I'm going to take a shower there should be some clothes for you in one of the rooms." He walked upstairs and out of view.

Y/n let out a long breath of air. Peter was such a stick in the mud. "Can you stop swearing?" She whispered to herself in a mock voice. God, he really did manage to get on her nerves.

Y/n finally took a chance to look around the cabin. If she could even call it that. It was nicer inside than it looked to be outside. It's looked like a normal modern house with the exception it had the Stark touch.

Y/n walked upstairs and entered one of the random rooms. It had a queen bed and a nightstand. The closet was huge and full of different clothes and shoes. She found a pair of open-fingered gloves. If she had to guess she'd say this was the scarlet witch's room.

Y/n suddenly felt dirty and decide that she needed to take a shower. She grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt she thought could maybe fit. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, she hoped Peter didn't use all of the hot water.

She peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She lets the warm water run down her back. It did wonders for her sore muscles. She quickly scrubbed the rest of her body and turned off the shower.

Y/n dried off and got dressed. She stepped back into the room. She saw Wanda's bed. It looked more comfortable than it did before. It was basically calling her name. Y/n decided to say fuck it and hop in the bed. She decided whoever was trying to kill them could wait for tomorrow.

Part 5

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

#peter x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter paker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n

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rpbetter · 3 years

Note

I'm so tired of roleplaying with people who don't put half the commitment I do into our threads and muses. I'm so tired of feeling like I'm a weirdo or like I don't belong for that. Any other hobby and people wouldn't care if I took it seriously. Why is roleplaying different? How can I keep going like this if I'm getting rudeness from all sides? I can't even go outside my already tiny bubble and find more partners, because I always see people putting roleplayers like me down and it's exhausting.

"Why is roleplaying different?"

Well, Anon, I know that was a rhetorical question, but I have some thoughts on that. To the surprise of no one!

I strongly believe that this is an issue with how fandom has come to dominate roleplaying. As I've said before, it really wasn't always like that. Of course, you always had canon characters and almost all RPers were invested in a fandom or two. The difference was that online RP was once viewed much more like tabletop RPGs are.

When the RPC became a near-total offshoot of Fandom, a lot of shit changed and very rapidly...and within Fandom, a lot of shit was changing very rapidly as well at that time.

RP has always been something looked down on (though, at least no one ever accused written RP online of being literally demonic like they did DnD, or made correlations to murder sprees like they did LARPing, so there's that) as strange, not the good, understandable sort of dorky.

Part of that is almost certainly because of the difference in the way society views writing vs the way it views hobbies like gaming - writing is seen as an intellectual pursuit and a job, gaming, even at its most negative points of view in wider society, has been seen traditionally as a downtime activity only.

But. RP was not looked down upon from within Fandom or in roleplay communities themselves like it is now.

When the whole experience of fandoms themselves became extremely mainstream and open, it welcomed in a ton of shit ideas and behaviors that were not previously prevalent. It changed RP, too, along many of those same lines.

When your hobby is considered objectionably weird by people within the fandoms you love and RP in and that makes you a sort of lowest-tier fan, the viewpoint of RP to RPers becomes something lesser than a valid hobby. When RPers are the same people who engage with Fandom monetarily, anything not monetized is passively consumable content, including RP. And RPers are trying to both deflect shame and struggling with wider society's mixed messages, that now hit them everywhere online as well. Shit like, "you don't have to monetize your hobby, it's okay to just make really good cross stitches of memes for yourself" and "if you're not paying me, you have no control over me."

We seriously do not view RP as a proper hobby anymore, that's why. There are many factors to that, those are just few, but that's the ultimate answer. It's not seen that way because it's not valued in the same way.

I think much of the problem with muns losing their entire shit over anyone else approaching the hobby differently, dare I say...more seriously, is related to a lot of complex psychology about self-esteem, control, and anxiety. So many people here struggle with serious self-worth and confidence issues, and I think to many of them, whether they realize it or not, when they see serious RPers, they feel like that's an inherent judgment and a danger to their own enjoyment. Because RP, as writing, is a skilled hobby - the more you practice it, the more skilled you become with it. Meaning that someone who approaches the writing seriously is going to be at a higher skill level.

Enter the way we're training to think about writing again - when they see someone who is very practiced, skilled, and confident with their writing, the learned idea is that they're somehow superior in a nasty, personal way.

I most certainly do not think that makes it alright, it isn't, and I'm not very tolerant of it.

It's absolutely alright to engage with RP in any way you see fit. If that's extremely casual, it's a minor hobby for you, that's great! I'm so happy you're enjoying yourself, and I mean that in no facetious way. But not when that is the only form of it respected and accepted. It's just as alright to have RP as your primary, serious hobby!

The only way we can all enjoy a hobby with such great variance within it is by respecting each other's variables, not by vilifying them. It's recognizing that, no matter how much you enjoy the mun and/or muse, they're not engaging with the hobby in the way you are, it's not a good fit to write together. (Please, begging y'all to be friends with those who are different, not enemies, shit's sake. You've not got to write together to be friends!) Instead of labeling them and being hateful. Different =/= a threat.

And, to go off a bit lol y'all demonizing serious RPers really don't get that there are some intense tones of ableism and more going on in that narrative of yours, huh?

Not that anyone requires a reason to be serious about any hobby, but when people pick a hobby like RP as their primary one...you should probably have the maturity to consider why that is. Could it be that they focus on a hobby they can do from their homes and that requires low physical involvement, and has a degree of separation from direct socializing, for a reason?

Serious RPers tend to be limited in their ability to pursue other hobbies. Mental and physical health, region, finances, and ability to spend time outside of the home are all very common limits for those who "take RP too seriously/are addicted to RP."

Maybe take five seconds away from your own issues to consider that the person you're shitting on for something so minor as a difference of importance of a hobby might be the full-time caretaker of a special needs child, having to remain home and on a very small income. They might be chronically ill or suffer from agoraphobia. They might live in an area with no hobbies of interest, affordability, or at all...or they might live somewhere that is incredibly dangerous for them.

I honestly do not know where these people have been that they've been aggressed at by serious RPers, but that's usually the excuse. (I'm not saying it has never happened or does not happen, before anyone goes there.) The idea that serious RPers are extreme elitists who are demanding that other muns do what they do, how they do it. That they expect other muns to be online and RPing all the time, that they be "available for entertainment at all times" at the cost of real-life matters. Having the expectation that threads not be dropped constantly or that a writing partner not leave for months with no contact is neither of those things.

In over two decades of RPing across almost every platform type that has existed, I have literally never seen that be either a singular RPer-type problem or one that serious RPers are even more likely to deal in. I've seen the opposite, actually. Which is not a condemnation or a statement that all casual RPers do this, just what my experience has been. And one that actually stands to reason based on the way they view and engage with RP - quick replies, quick entertainment, and very low commitment to threads, muses, or other muns. Of course, it's annoying to them when a more serious RPer is unwilling to do rapid-fire style quick, short threads from an ask with them, but is writing the lengthy replies they already owed instead.

That's probably a factor as well, in here among a plethora of misunderstanding/unawareness of differences - for many serious RPers, it's not easier and more fun to write short, quick threads. So, what a casual RPer is seeing is that they're willing to put all this extraordinary effort into a massive reply to someone else while their easy, fun, quickly done thread is waiting in line.

Misunderstandings and unawareness breed hostility, period. And there is a hell of a lot of those things in the RPC.

What serious RPers are expressing are either boundaries/expectations or frustration. Not a demand that you be around all the time, but an expectation that you leave them alone if you're not also a serious RPer who will be committed to threads and muses. Not hostility and elitism, the frustration that it's already difficult to find muns who will work out before you add in the majority rule of casual RPers.

It's incredibly disheartening, frustrating, and honestly, a bit anxiety-inducing to constantly be the weird one, always have few choices, and to be at risk of being Problematic purely because you take the hobby seriously. You can't vent without someone jumping on your ass to remind you (even if you said numerous times that "real life comes first" and "people can do what they want") that omg, people have lives, people can do what makes them happy, it's just RP.

It's so upsetting when you think you might have found a good writing partner, then, you see a PSA they've reblogged about how it's a "hobby, not a jobby," and "no one owes anyone anything, ever." Excuse me, as that last one is a direct quote, let me redo it so it is verbatim: "no one owes anyone here anything - EVER !!!"

I said I wasn't very tolerant :)

But seriously, exactly what you've expressed is why I'm not...it's another form of controlling others instead of trying your best to control your own experience, and it's often extremely hateful. I'm not tolerant of anything like that, it's no longer supporting preferences at that point. When your preference is the only one that will be tolerated in the community, it's not a preference anymore.

It's something that makes others feel isolated, afraid of harassment, and depressed. It is a hobby and it isn't supposed to make you feel like that!

And, no, absolutely the fuck not lol the "answer" to this isn't that you're taking it too seriously and need to take a break. I'm so tired of seeing that shit tacked onto RPH responses and vents and PSAs. You're not saying that RP is making you feel this way, "just take a break and come back when you agree with everyone else" isn't a solution.

Of course, if you do feel like your time here has become so upsetting? Yeah, obviously, you should try to find some other things to supplement your downtime that make you feel happier again. Engage in some other forms of writing just meant for yourself, or that can be published as fics. Spend some more time on a game you enjoy for a while, or get invested in a new one. Learn to shape bonsai or make no-knead rolls. Whatever would make you happy as a hobby when you're not here.

Other than that, however, well...we're not going to be implying on this blog that you're too serious and need to take a hiatus until you have no emotional investment in your hobby. That's insane. I'd not say it about hiking, martial arts, dog obedience competitions, hobby farming, or painting either.

I wish I could think of some solutions as to where you could look that wasn't like this, but it's definitely the majority of the RPC. It doesn't help that, due to this, serious RPers have a tendency to quietly stick together and not venture out into the RPC. They're just not incredibly easy to find.

I will say that they tend to be:

novella - if you're not here for serious RP and sticking around for a while, you're not going to invest the time and energy into particularly lengthy writing

older RPers - I would say that twenty-five is probably the youngest, with early thirties to late forties being the majority

in fandoms with a large adult base of fans - even if it's a franchise friendly to, or even meant for, younger fans, if it has a particularly active adult fanbase, it's a better chance of finding serious RPers in it

as above, old fandoms - fandoms that have been around for a long time tend to have more serious RPers in them

fandomless OCs - tend to have a higher chance of being written by serious RPers than canons or heavily fandom-involved OCs

RPers who do not do a ton of advertising for their muse(s), but when they do, they don't advertise them based on activism points or trends

slightly more likely to not have an emphasis on highly aesthetic blogs, graphics, icons etc. - they use a modified basic tumblr theme, low on graphics, their aesthetics are not on-trend, for example

anti-content policing/"write what you want" style muns

muns with more extensive rules pages - they plan to be here for a while, they take writing, RP, and their muse(s) seriously, so, it's a bit more important to them to head off problems before they start

those with older characters/FCs - be that literally in age or the character being one that has existed for a long time

"stay in your lane" style muns - if they're opining on fandom or the RPC, they must really be angry about something

those with numerous and detailed headcanons - for example, their response to a HC meme ask like, "what's your muse's favorite ice cream flavor?" is going to be treated seriously, not simply answered with "mint chocolate chip because my bby is gross"

As usual, not a complete or perfect list. I don't fit some of the things on there! It could give you some things to look for when trying to find other serious RPers, though. It's based on observances from someone who was never a casual RPer, even as a minor (me, obviously), and maybe it could at least keep you from continuously running into hostility about your approach to RP.

I've honestly considered making a list of some sort expressly for RPers who are on the more serious end of the spectrum, but...in a RPC back when things were dominated by serious RPers, I did that sort of thing with a RPH I had, and it still got labeled as being a list for and by Elitists. I don't know that anyone would want to put themselves out there for potential harassment on tumblr, you know? It was a joke then, just having a group of RPers label you as an Elitist. Here, you get told to kill yourself, and none of us need more of that shit, right?

Try to hang in there, Anon, I know it's upsetting, and I'm so sorry that something fun has gotten to be like this.

Try to understand that these people are coming from a place of irrational defensiveness, often in response to bullying themselves at some point or feeling bad about themselves. That doesn't make it right, but it does make it easier to not take to heart.

And keep at it! In my experience here, once you find a group of people you fit into, it really is...A Group. Especially among RPers who are ostracized, they stick together, they promote each other, and they're very happy for their mutuals to become your mutuals. Once you find them, it unlocks so many opportunities for the interactions and type of RP you've been missing!

#answered #anonymous #serious rpers #rp problems #rp advice

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blinder-secrets · 4 years

Text

Patching Up - Arthur

‘I would die for you.’

arthur x fem!reader, 3,300 words

prompt list

ao3 link

The betting shop is empty, cold and filled with that pale, blue light that only the moon can give. If it weren’t for Arthur, pilfering through the forms and sheets on Polly’s desk, it’d be silent. Instead, his grumbles fill the space. His careless searching cushions the room with enough noise to make it feel busy.

‘A fuckin’ mess,’ he says, to no-one. His rings catch against the wood of the table as he discards another folder. ‘Where the hell is it?’

When he can’t find what he’s looking for, he sighs heavily and collapses into the chair behind him. His feet go onto the desk, crossed at the ankles, and his hands go under it, reaching for something that will be found. Something that’s there every time. He grabs the neck of the bottle and Pol’s wine is brought to the surface, uncorked and at his lips before he’s even paused to read the label. It’s sour, fortified, and it stains his tongue but does the job. Makes his efforts seem somewhat worthwhile. He leans back in the seat and sighs again, sitting the bottle on his stomach. The desk’s a mess after him, but he tells himself it was like that before, she won’t know any different. He straightens the paper nearest to him like that’ll guarantee it.

As he takes another drink, there’s the sound of the door, the fall and creak of it opening and shutting again. Then his name, barked and rounded in John’s tongue. His footsteps chase him as he moves through the shop. His voice is nearer when it comes again.

‘Arthur? You ‘ere?’

‘Yeah, John,’ he drones, talking through the catch of wine in his throat, ‘am here.’

John appears in the doorway, coat open and out around him like it’s only just caught up. He frowns at the sight, at his brother reclined in Polly’s office, drinking Polly’s port, but blinks it away again. ‘Right,’ he says, ‘you better come see this.’

‘What is it?’ He gestures outwards, bottle in his palm like it’s stuck there. ‘I’m doing… stuff. Things. Work, John.’

‘It’s [y/n]. She’s lost it, Arthur.’

‘Ay?’ That’s caught his attention. He drops his feet to the floor, heels slapping against the boards, and sits upright. ‘Lost what?’

‘Lost it. Pissed out her head.’ He’s panting between his words; he’s run the whole way. ‘She’s in the Garrison, saying she’ll burn it down before you’re back again. S’fucking messy, Arthur, I couldn’t get her to stop.’

‘Alright, alright.’ The bottle’s abandoned on the desktop, his hands reaching to smooth his hair back, and then back again. ‘Alright,’ he repeats.

‘Fucking madder than Danny whiz-bang.’

‘Shut up, John.’ He stands, the chair rocks back on two feet. ‘You make her bloody worse,’ he scolds. Then he’s in motion, around the desk and past John through the shop, only pausing to grab his coat and cap from the stand by the door.

‘It’s not like with you,’ John warns from behind, ‘it doesn’t come from nothing.’

He doesn’t get a response. Arthur shuts the door before he can follow him out.

It isn’t raining but it may as well be, the noise behind his skull fills the street, smothers his ears from the inside. Static like sheeted-rainfall. He isn’t built for mending, for putting things together. He can barely keep his own strings tied. All it takes is one edge to fray, and then he’s unwinding, spiralling and twisting ’til he’s unrecognisable. When she goes, she takes him with her. It’s hard to stay whole when someone’s falling to pieces beside you.

It’s something he’s had to learn, though. She’s needed it from him. Since they got back, she’s been different, and he’s adapting to it still. He doesn’t like it, and he’s not the best at it, but if he manages to calm her without losing it himself, it’s a victory. A battle won is a battle won, no matter how small or how local.

He sets his cap in place and dips his chin as he walks. His gait is quick enough to disturb the surface of the road, grit spitting behind every time he lifts his foot. If she was drunk enough to send John running, he doesn’t have long before it gets out of hand, before she’s too worked up to come down again. Under his breath, he curses her — for picking him to rely on, for being too like him to pick anyone else. For expecting him to come back from France whole. She’d wanted him and she’d gotten this, these pieces, this tarnished copper. That’s what had set her off, left her fraying like he is. If he didn’t feel responsible for it he wouldn’t be on his way to her now. There’s loyalty in heartbreak, a kind that can’t be shaken.

When he reaches the Garrison, the outside’s quiet. The street’s dark, and light glows through the mottled windows, but he can’t hear anything that he shouldn’t, no raised voices above the hum. At least she hasn’t started any fires yet. That’s one thing, one threat that was empty and wasted. Pace unfaltering, he pushes on, opening the double doors with both palms extended. Meeting the warmth with the same steadiness he intends to keep.

————————————————————————

You’re barely conscious when you hear your name, loud and rattling into the pub. The bar is cold, topped with copper, or brass, you don’t know, don’t care. It’s cold and so your cheek is against it. Your eyes are closed but if you opened them you’d be looking straight along it, through the glasses and the ash trays. Over hands and owed-money. Your gaze would go right to the end and into the wall where there’s nothing at all.

‘[Y/n].’

It’s your name again. You know who’s saying it, but you can’t face him yet. Too loud, he is, too loud and too right about everything. You just want to wait, and rest, and let your eyelids be as heavy as they like. The barkeep was angry before, but he hasn’t said anything since you sat and put your head down. What harm could it do to stay a little longer.

‘Mr. Shelby,’ he says, from somewhere near the top of your head, speaking from outside the buzz. ‘I think she’s asleep, sir.’

He’s chosen to betray you, then, to point you out. It only takes a minute for his decision to ruin your peace. He says it and then you aren’t alone anymore, and the bar isn’t cold against your face because there’s a hand on your shoulder, dragging you upright. You go to complain but it comes out as a whine, sticky and clinging to your throat.

‘Nah,’ Arthur says, ‘not sleeping, are you, love?’

‘Trying. Wishing.’ You’d shrug him off but his hand is glued to your jumper, you think. Or your shoulder’s too lazy to listen to your brain. ‘Go please. Go, go.’

You may be upright, but your eyes are closed still, and he’s talking to you like you’re there. Like you’re conscious enough to answer him.

‘What’s this I’m hearing, ay, about you wanting to burn down my pub?’

Your head drops to the side, away from him like he pushed it. When you don’t answer, he hums and shakes your shoulder. You wince. Your brain rattles against itself.

‘Get us a water, Harry.’

‘Don’t want water,’ you say. You’re ignored. Of course you are, you hear the glass clink as it’s set down in front of him.

Before you can argue again, it’s in your face, cold and fresh and dripping down your cheeks. Your eyes open and the brightness hurts, and the water stings, and Arthur is staring at you with the empty glass in his hand.

‘What the fuck?’ You stretch your sleeves over your wrists and dry your face, limbs moving quickly in the unwelcome burst of sobriety.

‘You weren’t listenin’,’ he states, setting the glass down. ‘Now you are.’

‘I was, I just wasn’t talking.’ Once they’re dry, your cheeks are hot again. Flushed, like the water had wiped a layer of drunkenness from you, just to reveal another beneath. ‘You’re so fucking…’ You don’t finish the sentence, you just wipe your eyes with the heels of your palms.

‘So, what have you got against my pub, eh?’

You scoff. If you’d said it, you don’t remember doing so. You don’t remember anything past John telling you to drink, then telling you to stop, then telling you that you had to grow up. That you had to stop complaining about fucking love, and fucking futures, and fucking Arthur. That it all had to stop, ‘cause it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your thing to complain about.

‘He started it,’ you say, under your breath so he might not hear.

‘Started what, hm?’ His voice is loud. Close. Accent round and familiar and nice, but annoying. So annoying when your head’s where it is. ‘Why am I fucking here?’ he asks.

Because John starts arguments he can’t finish. Because you got drunk, and then drunker, and then everything was fast and blurred. And problems started climbing over each other to get out of your mouth, to spit into the air at anyone who’d listen.

‘You can’t keep doing this,’ he says. ‘How does it look, ey, to have you shouting up the pub every week?’

‘Oh, who gives a fuck about reputation, Arthur.’ You turn to him scornfully. He’s inviting them up again, the words that sting as they escape. ‘As if anyone fucking comes here expecting grace. As if I don’t fit right in with the rest of you.’

His hand drops from your shoulder. You hadn’t realised it was still there. ‘It’s a fucking business, love. Can’t I hope for a little improvement?’

‘Only if you start with yourself.’ You watch his jaw tense then look away. There’s a glass to your left, half-full with something clear and inviting. You reach for it but he stops you, pins your wrist down, leaves your fingers curled and yearning for it.

‘You’ve had enough,’ he warns. He’s above you slightly, standing to lean across and keep you still.

’Are you here to help?’ you ask sweetly. Falsely. ‘Or to make my night worse?’

‘I’m here,’ he starts, lifting your wrist and bringing it back as he sits again, ‘cause John said you’re like Danny whiz-bang.’ He puts your hand down in front of you, close to yourself, and not the alcohol.

You tut, shaking your head. You want to abandon the conversation. They don’t get it and they won’t, no matter how many times you go over it. No matter how loud you shout it.

Arthur drops his head, finding your gaze and keeping it, holding it with that stare he has. ‘What fucking war have you got to go bang over?’ he asks, harsh like he’s whispering, loud despite it. ‘What is it? Cause I can’t fuckin’ get in there to find out.’

He’s pointing a finger to your temple; you wave it away. ‘Ask John,’ you quip. ‘He knows everything, apparently.’

Arthur scoffs, rocking back in his stool. ‘Like fuckin’ kids, you are. Bicker worse than Tom and Ada did.’

You watch him sigh. Watch him wipe his brow, and flatten his moustache, and smooth the crease from his pant-leg. Watch him attempt to brush away the stresses before dealing with you again.

‘You’re sick of me, aren’t you?’ you ask, though accuse is a better word for it. ‘Y’know, I didn’t ask for you to come. I told him not to get you.’

‘Sick of ya?’ He wants to laugh, but he looks confused. His eyebrows pinch. ‘What the fuck goes on in your head, lass? Eh?’

He hums, like he expects you to answer, like he wants a concise list of it all.

‘I’m fucking here for you,’ he says, ‘always.’

‘And when you weren’t, gin was.’ You face him, turn your body so it’s matched to his. ‘Whiskey was. I never drank before you—’

‘So, it’s my fault.’ He nods. It isn’t convincing, and he doesn’t mean it to be. ‘Yeah, yeah, alright, you tell yourself that, love. See how it helps ya.’

You drop your head back, let it fall slack between your shoulder blades so you can stare at the ceiling. It’s always the same conversations, over and over. It was all he did, all any of them did. They’d rather talk in circles before they go anywhere else. Before sense is made, before things are heard.

‘I’m not. Fucking. Saying that, Arthur,’ you groan. Your words go up and then down again. From your lips, into the air, then back into your throat. They meet the liquor and strengthen. ‘Am I not allowed to be fucking frustrated? Ever? Can I not just be mad and then stay mad?’

‘Depends,’ he grumbles. ‘I don’t even know what you’re fucking mad about.’

You sigh, heavily, and the breath catches a whine as you set your head straight. ‘You honestly don’t see it?’

He shakes his head. You’ll have to spell it out for him. You’ll have to pick apart the stitches, and lay it all flat, right here, right in the fucking Garrison.

‘When you went to France,’ you start, slipping from the stool to stand in the small gap between you. ‘When you went, you were in love with me, and when you came back you weren’t.’

’S’not true,’ he says, his answer too quick to be a considered one.

‘You only want me when it suits,’ you say. Your finger hits his shoulder, your voice raises and twists bitterly. ‘Only pay attention when I’m being too loud, or too drunk, or too fucking—‘

‘Alright,’ he barks, grabbing your wrist. ‘That’s enough.’

A laugh comes out of you but nothing’s funny. Nothing invites it. ‘That’s my fucking point, Arthur. You don’t even care. You don’t even let me explain.’

‘I care.’

You scoff and tug your arm but he doesn’t let you go.

‘I care,’ he repeats. His eyes are soft, like he might cry, but his voice is sharp. Striking. ‘I would die for you,’ he says, ‘fucking die. Alright?’

‘That’s all you know, Arthur, everything’s death. How to die, how to kill.’ You pull away again and this time his fingers break apart like worn-leather. His hand falls into his lap, you leave it there. ‘What happened to love? Where did that go?’

His chin drops. You know you should stop but you don’t, your words are slick, boozy. Honest but too cruel for him.

‘Do you even remember it?’ you ask. ‘How we were?’

‘Course,’ he answers. ‘Course I do.’ He’s holding his voice tight, quiet, close to his chest. If you were anyone else he’d be shouting. He’d be drunk and falling apart like you were, wanting people to listen like you did.

‘I just…’ You sigh but it feels like a whimper. ‘What did I wait for? What came home?’

It wasn’t him, not as he was. Wasn’t love as it had been. You knew to expect it but it still stung. It still made all the longing and the worry feel useless, pointless. Terrified of losing a man that had already gone. Every time you remember it, every time you think about how he used to be, and how he used to care, it gets too much for even the gin to cover. You don’t want to go off like a whiz-bang but there isn’t anything to wet to fuse. All you have is Arthur to gather the ashes.

‘I miss us.’ You force the confession weakly, push it through the cry that’s waiting to come out. ‘I really miss us.’

His head lifts slightly. He finds your hand to squeeze it. ‘I know, love. I know.’

‘I know it’s hard for you,’ you babble, words sad and tumbling now they’ve caught momentum, ‘and John says it isn’t fair for me to whine about it, but I can’t say nothing.’

‘Don’t listen to him.’ He shakes his head. ‘He dun’t know what helps, just says things and hopes.’

You sniff, and nod, attempting to will the tears back from your waterline. John never means what he says, you just have be sober to realise it. ‘What if he is right, though?’ you ask. ‘I didn’t go to war.’ You stayed home and they went instead. All you had to do was wait, and welcome them back, and love and care and keep going in all the places they’d given up. Surely, that’s the easy job. Surely you can do it better than you have.

Sighing, Arthur stands, and you’re already chest to chest before he puts his arms around you. ‘It weren’t just us,’ he says. Then he pulls your head to his shoulder, his hand flattening your hair, and you let him. You sink into him like you’d begged for it.

‘It’s all learning, alright. We’re all learning.’ He rubs circles on your back. You want to tell him you had enough time to learn, but you know it’s a lie. You know he won’t hear it. ‘Let’s get back, ay?’

‘You’re working,’ you mumble, losing the words behind his lapel.

‘Nah.’ He pushes you back and then brackets your face in his hands.

You’re weighted, fixed down and lazy. Alcohol sagging you now the fire’s gone out. You look at him, blinking, bleary-eyed from it all. He takes it in; checks you over and finds peace in the wreckage. How he does this time and time again, you don’t know, you can’t work it out. It should scare him off but he stays anyway. His hands drop from your face to rub your arms, pushing comfort into the cotton.

‘Bloody work,’ he says quietly, ‘I’ve had enough for today.’

‘I know you care,’ you answer, like he’d asked for it.

He smiles but it doesn’t show past his cheeks. ‘No more alcohol, alright, least not as much. Not when you’re sad, love.’

You nod. You’re always sad.

‘What are we like, hm?’ His hand touches your cheek. You want him to kiss you but he doesn’t. ‘Too bloody similar,’ he says, and you don’t disagree.

————————————————————————

Afterwards, Arthur takes her home. He wraps her in his coat and pulls her, lagging, to Watery Lane, to his house, to his bed. She’d burnt out by the time he’d got to her. It feels selfish to admit it, but he’s glad she did. He wouldn’t have lasted otherwise. He would have fought her and hated himself for it, or maybe hated her for it. It was better not to know.

When they get back, she’s quiet, and she lets him put her together again. She doesn’t complain when he offers her water, barely comments when he warns her of the headache she’ll get in the morning. They change, and wash, and he does all the things he wishes someone would do for him when he’s bad. He knows she would, but then he never lets her see him like that. Not since the first time.

After it’s all done, they go to bed. He puts her there ‘cause it feels safest, furthest away from the things that worry her, close enough to him to make them both feel easy. He reaches for the lamp on the bedside, turning the dial so the light dims. So it feels like just them.

‘Arthur,’ she starts, gently, softly. ‘Are you sure you aren’t sick of me?’

He’d thought she was asleep. She’s lay down already, curled on her side. Now her body pulls around him as he sits on the edge, her knees against one thigh, her chin against the other. Her eyes are closed like she’s dreaming.

‘I’m sure, love.’ He puts his hand to her head, running a thumb across the cheekbone he can see. The other’s hidden against the mattress. ‘Couldn’t ever be sick of you,’ he tells her. He’d only ever get sick of himself.

#Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #we love a bit of arthur dont we gorlies #prompt fic #this was soooooooooo angsty and self indulgent lmao #melodrama perhaps?#also really fluffy at the end #ALSO i tried something knew and flitted between POVs a bit so.... hope that goes down well #anyway enjoy love you

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