#i'm just talking about me. my experiences are not normal.

[megamindsecretlair]

hey i just need something real nasty between husband and wife with mr.aaron (i say it key and peele😂😂) with some angst before the actual plot🤭

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, beautiful.

Made You Fall For Me

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem and male receiving), PIV, oral (female receiving), Reader is able to be picked up, use of pet names, angst. Mentions of death of a loved one, trauma. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: It had been two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death and Terry still beat himself up over it. Tired of Terry not letting you in, you join him in the shower and show him that he has a life to lead right here and now with you. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog

Word Count: 5,371k

AO3 Link

A/N: Thank you so much for dealing with my hiatus. I'm stronger mentally than I have ever been. Definitely worked on myself and stopped being so hard on myself. The kind asks really helped me find my way back, so have this smutty fic as a giant thank you! Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry sighed as he entered the bedroom. You looked up from your phone to watch your husband. 

His tall frame moved fluidly around the space, taking off of his pants and his shirt. It was soaked through having just finished at the gym. He sat on the edge of the bed to fling off his socks and toss it in the knit hamper. 

“Hey babe,” you said. 

“Hey baby,” Terry sighed.

You stared at the back of his head as his shoulders drooped the longer he sat on the bed. He looked so…dejected. Like someone sucked the air from his tires. You leaned up and let your powder blue throw blanket fall from your shoulders.

This was the second week in a row that your husband was still in this funk. Two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death where it seemed like Terry relived it all over again. It started with a dream, the very moment he ran into the hospital carrying Summer. Hopped up on adrenaline, a bullet in his shoulder, and him looking for the next threat. 

Then he would slowly withdraw mentally, checking out of conversations. Floating through the motions of going to work and getting back home. You were worried that he would get into an accident but he was able to operate on auto-pilot, navigating the world just as he normally would. 

It was both sad and amazing that he was able to do so. But this wasn’t your husband. This was a guilt ridden man who sometimes realized that he had no family. You were his family, of course, but he had no living blood relative alive. Mike was his one and only connection and that was severed by hate and pride. 

“Baby, will you please talk to me?” You asked. You fiddled with the edge of your phone. He wasn’t facing you, but you were still nervous to look at his face. You didn’t know which would be worse. Hearing you and choosing not to speak or not hearing you at all because he was lost somewhere you couldn’t reach?  

“I-I’m trying,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. You longed to comfort him, hold him, console him in some way. But every time you reached out, he would stare at you as if he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel you. 

You didn’t know how to help him through this. You’ve lost people, sure, but you always had enough family and friends to fall back on. You didn’t know what it was like for him and he was too stubborn to let you take some of his pain. 

You moved forward and crawled on the bed towards him. He stiffened as you got closer and you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You held on and placed your hand over his heart. It beat rapidly beneath your fingers and you inwardly sighed in relief. He was still in there. His heart still beat.

“You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself forever,” you said. You kissed his back and rested your cheek on his skin. He was always so warm, like your own personal fire pit. But due to the sweat, he was cold and clammy. 

“I was supposed to protect him. That was my one and only job,” Terry said. 

“You were supposed to love him. But what happened was out of your control,” you said. 

Terry sighed and stood up, breaking your embrace. He hung his head as he walked to the bathroom. The door closed decisively and you flinched from the harsh sound. The light turned on underneath the doorway. The shower turned on and you didn’t hear anything further. 

Some days you wanted to knock your husband’s teeth in. His overprotective instincts went into hyperdrive, past the point of what was healthy. He refused to think of himself and the consequence be damned. Other times, you just wanted to wrap him in a floofy blanket and never let him out of your sight. You couldn’t very well fault him for wanting to keep you safe when you were the exact same way. 

But this…it varied on when he’d be able to pull himself out of this. Sometimes you’d say or do something to bring him back. Sometimes he’d take a deep breath and release that dark cloud. And sometimes, he’d disappear for a whole day and return back to the sweet, loving man you married. 

But fuck this. You missed your husband. And you were tired of seeing him walk around like a zombie. You got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom.

Steam rushed out and passed over your exposed skin. You closed the door behind you and noted the discarded underwear on the floor and a red towel on the edge of the sink. Terry’s silhouette moved just behind the foggy glass doors. 

You quickly stripped, flinging your lavender sleep set to the ground with his briefs. You stuffed your bonnet beneath a shower cap and slid the glass doors back. Terry looked over his shoulder at you and you entered the spacious shower behind him. 

The custom shower with tiles painted in different shades of brown was roomy enough for about three people comfortably if they were all intimate. Water cascaded down from a waterfall shower head, pouring down over Terry’s strong body. Water dripped from the edge of his wide nose, his full lips, and his well-defined chest. You followed the trail of water down his belly and over his long, thick dick. Water fell down in his long legs and huge feet. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m taking a shower,” you said. You shoved past him and grabbed your wash cloth, pulling it under the spray of water to get it wet. 

Terry huffed. “Had to be now?” He asked.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. Instead of grabbing your favorite soap, you grabbed his and lathered up the wash cloth. 

“C’mon,” Terry said. He tugged on your arm for you to turn around. 

You did so and slapped the wash cloth against his chest. “I miss you,” you said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He closed his mouth and grimaced, jaw flexing. 

You flattened both of your hands against his chest and stepped closer. Water hit your back at a lukewarm temperature. You had no clue how he could shower like this but that wasn’t the point. “I miss my husband and I need you to come back, right now,” you said. 

Terry closed his eyes and his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His mouth worked like he wanted to say something but the words never came. Whatever he wanted to say lodged in his throat and he couldn’t choke it out.

“So after this shower, you better step out of it and remember that you did everything right for Mike. And he made his own choices. That’s not your fault. It has never been your fault. And it’s time you accept that,” you said. 

You moved the wash cloth over his skin, scrubbing him down. Soap transferred to his body in thick suds, falling down his skin. He watched you and shut his mouth as you scrubbed him all over his chest and moved on to his arms. 

His eyes never left yours as you massaged the cloth between his fingers. He sighed and hummed as you found tense spots. You rubbed him deeper in those areas, working out the tension. 

You maneuvered behind him so he could rinse and then washed his back, creating big circles of soap. You moved down to his ass, teasing him a bit. He grunted and then chuckled. Well, that was a good sign. If he was chuckling then at least he was starting to relax. 

You washed down his legs, tickling him in areas. He danced out of your way and you warned him to be careful in this slippery ass shower.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back and kill you again,” you warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smirked. 

You worked your way back to his front. His dick twitched and bobbed in your face. You looked up at him and his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at you. Fuck, he was pretty like this. Above you, staring at you, and in all his naked glory.

He needed to walk around like this more often. For your eyes only. That beautiful male body needed to be on display 24/7. 

You looked at his dick and then slowly dragged your eyes up his body and back to his striking ocean eyes. He took in a deep breath as his mouth curved upward. The rise and fall of his chest had an answering throb in your clit. You dropped to your knees on the hard flooring but it barely registered in your mind. 

Your husband worked his way back to you in the best way you both knew how. Sex was everything to the both of you. The one way you knew you were on solid ground. From the moment you two met, it had been electric and consuming. Always finding ways to touch each other or be near each other and breathe each other’s air. 

You dragged the wash cloth over his dick. At the first press of your hand, he hissed and jerked his hips towards you. You steadied your left hand on his hip and then stroked him with your right. 

He lifted his head towards the showerhead and let the water run down his face. Since he leaned back, water fell on top of your head and face but you kept looking towards him and the look on his face. 

He was hands down the most beautiful man you had ever met. And the kindest. He wasn’t always nice. He had more than enough words to say about folks that crossed him. But he was always kind, always treated people with respect. And he was a gentleman on top of it. Always opened your doors, always stood on the side of the street closest to danger. Every day, you found new ways to fall in love with your man. You only wished he’d forgive himself. 

“I love you. And I miss you. I need you to come back,” you told him. You increased the pressure, giving him long, slow strokes. All the way down to his base, squeezed, and then worked your way back to his tip. 

He groaned and rolled his neck, moving his hips. Your pussy throbbed seeing cum leak from his tip. He leaned one hand on the side of the shower, fingers pushing into the grooves. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have to let me in when things get dark, Terry. I don’t like feeling like I’m on the outside,” you told him.

Terry nodded his head and his eyes turned darker. But he didn’t look so far away now. His eyes were clearer, more present. “I hate feeling like I failed,” he said. His jaw flexed and you matched him stare for stare. 

“You did everything you possibly could. You deserve a life too. Not to punish yourself for the life Mike doesn’t have,” you said. You paused stroking and let the sound of the shower fill the room. 

Steam rose to the ceiling in wispy clouds. Soap and water rushed down Terry’s body. His chest rose and fell in heaving sighs but then evened out. Once his breathing returned to normal, you began stroking him again.

He groaned and dropped his head as you increased your strokes. You watched his face and watched the emotions play across his features. His lush lips parted and he moaned, deeply and guttural. “I’m gonna bust,” he moaned.

“Give it to me,” you whispered, just loud enough to be heard above the spray of water. You kept your same pace and three strokes later, Terry’s dick throbbed and his cum splashed onto your neck and titties. 

Terry’s moans were sweet music to your ears. You grinned evilly and kept stroking. He jerked and stuttered with chuckles and reached out to still your hands. He huffed and chuckled, giving you a saucy wink. 

He pulled you up by your arms and crushed his lips to yours as soon as you were within reach. He grabbed the cloth from your hands and hung it on the lip of the shower door. He cupped your neck in both hands and angled your face to meet his rough kisses. You moaned into his mouth. You missed this. You missed him. So damn badly.

The ache in your chest finally lifted now that your man was back. He healed and soothed with every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, every caress of his thumb on your wet skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he harshly whispered between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

Terry pulled back and looked into your eyes. He narrowed his and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I will call and get help later today. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting. You deserve better from me,” he said.

You tilted your head and kissed his wrist. “I do. But I also know we’re in this for life. So I need you to let me in more,” you said.

Terry nodded. “I promise. Thank you, for sticking with me through this shit,” he said.

“That’s what wives are for,” you said with a giggle. 

Terry took a deep breath and then a mischievous gleam made his hazel eyes twinkle. A smirk curved his lips and he began to massage your neck. You hummed and your eyes drooped. “Husbands are for protecting you and taking care of you, right?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said slowly, eyeing him. He was up to something…

Terry flipped you around and pressed your chest against the glass shower doors. You cried out from the sudden cold on your nipples as he pushed until your titties flattened against the doors. He kicked your legs wider to spread for him and your body shivered from his casual roughness. 

“T-Terry,” you sighed. 

Terry locked your arms behind you, hooking his arm around your elbows so that you were unable to move. Terry licked the shell of your ear and you shuddered. He slipped his free hand around your throat to pull your neck back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna make up for my bullshit,” he promised with heat laced through every syllable. 

“Terry, you don’t–”

Terry cut you off by moving his hand from your neck to his dick. He ran the tip through your dripping folds and then plunged inside with a rough thrust. “Oh shit!” You cried out, twisting your hands to try and slow him down. But because he had your arms trapped, you had no choice but to take his dick.

He angled your hips into a more comfortable position and then he slipped his hand back around your throat. He grunted with every deep thrust, filling you up, and making you take it. 

“Too much, too much,” you whined, trying to lean away from him. Terry pushed into you harder, pinning you to the door, while he continued to fuck you. Your forehead leaned on the doors and your breath fogged up the glass with your moans and sighs. 

“You can take it, baby,” he said, sinking you deeper and harder onto his length. He kissed your neck, licked and nibbled in areas, and moved upwards to your ear. “I love you so much. And I know I’ve been an ass. I haven’t been fair to you,” he whispered in your ear while he continued to dig into your guts.

You weren’t quite prepared for him to be so sweet and so nasty all at once. He gave you no time to fully hear his message or fully focus on his dick inside you so you were stuck in a twisted limbo. Suspended between absolute pleasure and your heart swelling with emotions. 

“That ends today, okay? I’ll prove that I’ll do better,” he said. He grunted and cursed under his breath. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned. 

“That’s my job as your husband. And it’s a job I take seriously,” he said. He smiled against your neck and then pulled you into a rough kiss over your shoulder. Your lips danced and played with each other as your orgasm rushed to the surface. 

You began to cry and stutter as it washed over you. Terry moaned as you squeezed around his dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he panted into your ear. 

When you came down, Terry let your arms go. He slipped out with a grunt and stepped back. You missed the heat of him instantly. He rubbed the feeling back into your arms from having them bent back for so long. He grabbed the discarded wash cloth from the top of the shower and rinsed it out.

He lathered up with his soap and then carefully washed down your back and your ass. His finger slipped between your cheeks to tease as he washed you down and you giggled with him. 

Terry turned you around and washed down your front. Washed the cum from your chest that didn’t rinse off from the water. You smiled at each other, finding your way back with every swipe of the cloth across your titties, your tummy, and down your thighs. He ran the cloth between your legs, careful not to get soap in between, and you moaned just from having his hands on you again.

His lips on yours. His eyes seeing you again after weeks of zoning out. Hints of your husband poked through that barrier he erected and now you were let in behind the wall. You grinned at him and leaned on your toes for a kiss. 

The kiss was meant to be innocent and sweet, just something to show that you loved him. That you were there and never letting him disappear again. But Terry kissed you deeper, grabbing you about the neck once more and crushed his lips to yours. 

His tongue slipped inside and then he gently nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth. “Terry,” you sighed. Your stomach flipped with desire. Pussy throbbing. Once wasn’t nearly enough. 

“I know,” he said. He lifted your chin and brought you in for a sweet kiss. He deepened the kiss even as he maneuvered you towards the shower wall. He lifted you by the ass to wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Fuck,” you cried out. It never ceased to amaze you that he was so strong. He worked hard in the gym to take care of himself but also to lift every pound you had. He lifted without effort, without strain, and grinned when he caught the look on your face. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Terry said. He stared into your eyes as he pushed back into you. Back into your warm, wet heat and you both groaned as he pushed in slowly, all the way down to the base. 

Your nails dug into his back and shoulders, clutching on for dear life. He was huge and thick. Long. He pulled back and then sank in once more, repeating this over and over to make you feel every last inch of him. Feel his mushroom head push against your soft, spongy walls welcoming him in. 

Your mouth dropped open, needing to release something. A cry, a moan, a word. Nothing came as he stroked into you, increasing with each one. Soon, he was slamming into you. His wet, loud strokes echoed in the tiled shower and your cries soon joined it. 

“You feelin’ me?” He asked. 

You nodded. You adjusted your arms around his neck and he dropped his forehead to yours. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. You locked your eyes with him and it somehow made his strokes even more intense. He throbbed inside you. 

“You feel me. Right here and now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going away again,” he moaned while he stroked. 

“Terry,” you sniffled. 

Fuck, this was all you ever wanted. You didn’t need him to be perfect. You didn’t need him to be a textbook definition of a husband. You just wanted him present and with you. Sharing his pain and his joys. Sickness and health. Better and worse. Those were the vows you swore before a room full of your close friends and family. 

“I feel you. I feel you right here,” you promised. 

Terry switched up his strokes, getting deeper than before and bottoming out. You both groaned and threw your heads back, getting lost in the sensation of him filling you up. Connecting the both of you. As close as you could possibly be to another human being. 

Terry leaned down and kissed you, playing with your lips, even as his hips slammed into you over and over. Pressure built in your belly, making your thighs quake and your arms tremble. “Terry, please, I can’t,” you begged. It was too much. It felt like you were out of control, out of your norm, unrooted. 

Terry only continued exactly what he was doing. “You’re taking me so well, baby. You can keep going,” he said. 

Your eyes swam and your vision turned blurry as you clung to him and came undone on his dick again. Your cries were loud enough to echo and bounce off of the tiled walls and ceiling, giving you a feedback loop of your own pleasure. It amplified your orgasm and you shut your eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming feeling. 

Terry kissed you all over your face, neck, and shoulders. He pumped you into you until his own hips stuttered and shot loads of thick cum into your pussy. You whined and shivered as he fucked his cum deeper and deeper. 

He slowed to a gradual stop and you stayed connected like that while you both recovered. Water still pelted the both of you and you kissed on each other, soaking up the moment. Terry leaned over and turned off the water, still holding you.

He smiled and kissed your lips. He nuzzled your nose. “Missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” you said. You kissed his cheek. 

Terry carefully stepped out of the shower with you still wrapped around him like a spider monkey. You were glad. Because now that you had him back, you weren’t ready to let him go. As if you would keep him here with you by sheer force of will. 

He moved the towel from the edge of the sink and placed you down, slipping out of you. You kissed and loved on each other while he dried the both of you off. Greedy for more, you reached between you to play with his heavy balls. 

Terry groaned and tilted his head down at you. “You sure you wanna do that?” He asked.

You continued fondling his balls, rubbing them between your fingers, and making him moan. His hips canted towards yours and you bit your lip, needing him back inside. Two orgasms weren’t enough. No number would satisfy you. 

“It’s been too long,” you pouted and looked at him. 

He chuckled and kissed you, taking possession of your poked out lip. He suckled on it and you moaned, feeling your pussy respond and ache from just this small action. 

“Get that sexy ass on our bed. Let me clean up in here and I’ll take care of that,” he said. 

You pouted again and whined but he bit your lip. “Now.” He deepened his voice and arched a perfect eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes and his eyebrow lifted higher. You grinned and hopped off the sink. While being punished for your attitude would be fun, you just wanted him right now. No extras, no games. You wanted to enjoy him and enjoy his body. 

He smacked your ass as you walked out and he chuckled after you shrieked and hid your ass behind your hands. You skipped to your bedroom and laid down on your bed. Cool air blew across your damp skin but it wasn’t freezing or uncomfortable.

The temperature was just right to make you hyper aware of your body. Of the feel of your skin and the thorough fucking Terry just gave you. Your pussy was still sensitive but you couldn’t resist teasing your clit. You ran your other hand along your skin, your belly, and your titties. Squeezing your nipple between your fingers and moaning from the dual sensations. 

“Terry…” you called out, drawing out his name. If he didn’t get in here soon, you were about to take matters into your own hands. 

The afternoon sun was setting low, rich oranges and golds slanting through your curtains and casting a warm glow about your room. Most days, you hated that your place faced east and west, but on lazy days like today, it was perfect. 

Terry moved about the bathroom, you had no clue what he was doing. So you closed your eyes and continued to play with yourself. You grew wetter by the second, your mind filling in with images of Terry’s broad chest. His narrow hips. That monster he had between his legs and the unbridled pleasure he managed to provide every single time. 

God, you loved that man. In every which way you were able to get him. You didn’t have the words to convey it but you’d spend the rest of your life trying to find them. 

You moaned as your imagination took over. Replaying what happened in the shower, the look on his face, the fire in his hazel eyes. You sighed as Terry entered the room.

“Oh, you bold,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. 

You didn’t stop though. You spread your legs further and shifted on the bed so that he could get a clearer view. “All warmed up for you,” you teased. 

Terry’s eyes dropped to the core of you, at the way you held your pussy lips open. Your other hand teased around your clit in figure eights, dipping into your pussy every so often to gather up more essence. 

Terry’s tongue swiped out to lick from one side to the other. Your fingers lost their rhythm. “Keep going,” he commanded. 

You whined and started up again but you couldn’t think straight. Not with him leaning against the wall looking at you like you were a five course meal and he was a starving man. When you just couldn’t find that spot again, Terry smirked and walked closer.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You,” you said. 

Terry smirked and took his time kneeling at the edge of the bed. He grabbed your thighs and pressed his thumbs to your inner thighs, massaging them. “Fuck,” you moaned and twisted, trying to close your legs and trap his hands there.

“Naw. Open back up. That’s what you get for trying to handle it yourself,” he said. 

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” you said and smirked. Terry lifted an eyebrow but his eyes were still on your throbbing pussy. He had to see how you were clenching around nothing. Clenching and reaching for him. 

He leaned down and kissed your clit. He retreated too quickly for your blood and you whined, pushing your hips back towards his face. 

“I’m still apologizing so I won’t make you beg this time,” he said. Without further ado, he dragged his pink, juicy lips through your folds, hunting for your clit. His tongue darted out and teased, dragging the tip through your folds. His tongue was warm as it flattened against your clit and he licked.

“Fuck!” You screamed out. 

Terry smiled between your legs before getting down to business. He suckled and licked and nibbled while he feasted on your pussy. Your pussy throbbed and ached while he slurped up your essence noisily. 

“Fuck, baby. Right there,” you moaned.

Terry locked in to the spot and swirled his tongue around in tight circles. You clutched to the covers, nails digging in for dear life as you twisted and jerked. You reached down to grab onto the back of his head and push his head deeper. 

Terry placed his hands to your thighs and pinned them to the bed while he ate you out, never stopping for breath. He just ate like a man possessed until you were twitching and crying out on his tongue, reaching your climax in record time.

Terry continued to eat you out through it, whispering into your pussy how perfect and sexy you were. How much he had to make up for. Your throat was scratched raw from all the moaning you were doing, too spent to respond. To tell him that he didn’t have a damn thing to make up for. His pain was valid and he had a right to see it through, but he had to see it through. Not just disappear into his head.

None of that came through. Your vision swam as you looked at the popcorn ceiling, too blissed out to form a coherent sentence. Terry replaced the view of the ceiling, leaning down on his fists, as he smirked at you.

“Still with me?” He asked.

“Always,” you sighed. 

He chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. It dipped beneath his weight, jostling you a bit. His knees pushed your legs on top of his thighs. His eyes sparkled as he slipped into you, meeting no resistance from your pussy.

“Shit,” you grunted. You pushed feebly at his chest. Not necessarily to make him stop, but fuck, you needed time to recover. Time to catch your breath. He stole the motherfucker, the least he could do was let you gain it back.

“Nothing feels better than this,” he said. He sank deeper into you, making you curl into him and squeeze his hips with your legs. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, poking your chest out for his lips to capture your nipples.

He suckled on them, going back and forth between the two, while he fucked into you lazily. Unhurried. Like he managed to pause time long enough to focus on delivering you pleasure. His eyes found yours and he smiled, his dazzling grin turning you stupid and pliant.

He groaned as he felt your body relax and he dug into you, harder, deeper, faster. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” you moaned.

“Cum with me, baby,” he said.

You whined and focused on cumming with him like he said. You could feel him throbbing inside you, close, oh so close. You panted, sweating, legs trembling, back bowing. He leaned to one side so that he could slip his free hand between your legs to play with your clit.

Your moans increased to a near panic as your orgasm came running at his beck and call. You cried out and your squeezing pussy milked him. He moaned and dropped his head as he spilled into you over and over, his body trembling from the force. 

He kissed your cheek but you otherwise laid there and enjoyed the feeling of him crushing you to the bed. Who needed oxygen anyway?

Your stomach rumbled, breaking the beautiful silence after such a powerful moment. You both laughed as it rumbled again. Terry released your hands and you covered your tummy. He pushed your hands away with his chin and then kissed your belly. 

“We’re gonna need another shower and then I need to feed my wife,” he said.

“Feed your wife or feed your wife?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows. You were spent and tired but you could find another round in you for him. Always for him. 

“Both, nasty ass,” he said. He stood up and then pulled you with him to stand as well. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss and promised over and over with both his tongue and his actions that he would become a man worthy of your love. 

The end.

I love you all. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[angelofthenight01]

The witch's secret

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

genre: fluff  ||   �� warnings: none

Summary: You're best friends with Pietro and Wanda is avoiding you as much as possible.  Little do you know that the reason is that the witch is falling in love with you.

The stale, recycled air of the Avengers training room hits you like a damp rag as you step inside. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the corner of your shirt, already feeling the familiar ache in your muscles. It’s been a long morning, dodging energy blasts and deflecting vibranium projectiles, all courtesy of your best friend, Pietro. He’s leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he examines his nails like some haughty prince.

"Took you long enough," he crows, pushing himself off the wall and stretching his arms high above his head. "I was starting to think you’d finally given up on keeping up with my god-like speed."

You roll your eyes, already used to his theatrics. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Quicksilver. Some of us need sleep." You grab your water bottle, taking a long swig. You’ve known Pietro since… well, since forever. You met at one of those weird, half-way houses run by the government when you were kids. You’d bonded over shared experiences and the inability to understand why everyone was so obsessed with being “normal”. You’d been inseparable ever since. And, naturally, that meant you’d gotten to know his twin sister, Wanda, very well too.

She’s… different. A chaotic storm wrapped up in a quiet demeanor. She’s a puzzle you’d gladly spend a lifetime trying to solve. However, lately, solving her has been like trying to catch smoke with a butterfly net. She’s been avoiding you, and not in a mild, subtle way. This is avoidance of Olympic proportions. If you’re in the kitchen, she’s suddenly urgently needed in the library. If you’re on the training floor, she’s busy meditating on the roof. It’s as if you’ve suddenly become radioactive.

"So," Pietro says, breaking your thoughts. “What’s the workout for today, oh, mighty planner of our pain?”

You shrug, pulling out the tablet and swiping the screen. "I was thinking a bit of hand-to-hand, maybe some sparring. What do you think?"

"As long as it involves me winning spectacularly, I'm in." He flashes that trademark grin, and you can’t help but chuckle.

You spend the next hour getting pummeled by Pietro’s ridiculous speed and impressive strength - but you also get some good hits yourself. You know, he may be fast, but you have been learning from the best. As you’re catching your breath, you hear a door open behind you, and your heart skips a beat, just like it always does.

It's not Wanda. It's Kate Bishop. She's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a look on her face that spells trouble. You like Kate, she’s funny, quick-witted, and a total bad-ass with a bow and arrow. She's also Wanda's best friend, which is why you’re sure she’s about to deliver some cryptic message or distraction.

"Hey, guys," she says, her tone a little too casual. "Wanda needs my help… with… uh… quantum physics equations."

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "Since when does Wanda dabble in theoretical physics?"

Kate's face is a picture of forced nonchalance. "Since… now? Yeah, she’s on a real quantum kick. Anyway, gotta go, quantum stuff, you know." With that, she’s gone, leaving you and Pietro alone again.

“Quantum physics,” Pietro says, shaking his head and chuckling. “That girl is so awkward. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s trying really hard to avoid you.”

You almost choke on your water. “Avoid me? Why would she avoid me?” you ask, trying to sound casual, as if you hadn’t noticed.

Pietro shrugs. “Beats me. Maybe you smell.” He wrinkles his nose dramatically, making you laugh.

The next few weeks continue in the same vein. Every time you try to talk to Wanda, she vanishes as if she's a figment of your imagination. You find yourself increasingly frustrated, not just because you have no idea what you did to annoy her, but because you really miss her company.

One afternoon, you’re attempting to meditate in the common room, hoping to find some inner peace when you hear footsteps. You open one eye to see Kate Bishop walking towards you, a determined set to her jaw. You see the mischievous glint in her eye, and brace yourself.

"Okay, look," she says, grabbing the cushion next to you and sinking down. "This whole thing has gone on long enough."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if she’s finally about to let you in on what’s going on.

"Wanda likes you," Kate blurts out, her cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Your eyes widen. "Likes me? Like… as in a friend?" you ask, even if you already know the answer.

Kate groans. "No, as in, she’s completely head-over-heels smitten with you. She’s been losing her mind about it ever since you saved her from that rampaging Ultron drone last year."

Your stomach does a backflip. “Wait, what? But why is she avoiding me?”

Kate sighs. "Because she's Wanda. She’s not good at this whole 'feeling' thing, especially when they're feelings of the lovesick variety. She's terrified you’ll find out, and then laugh at her or reject her, or whatever other dramatic scenario she's conjured up in her head. So, she decided the best course of action is to run away."

You shake your head, a smile playing at the corner of your mouth. "That's... incredibly Wanda." Something warm blooms in your chest, partly from the revelation, partly from the fact that, if Kate is to be believed, your feelings for Wanda are reciprocated.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Kate grins, that mischievous glint back in her eyes. "Now, we set a trap. She has got to face this. And maybe… she could actually go on a date or something? She’s been miserable, poor thing.”

The "trap," as it turns out, involves a suspiciously placed book in the library, a strategically timed fire alarm, and a very confused Pietro. You find yourself facing Wanda by the garden, which, somehow, you’d been guided to under the pretext of a "minor training accident".

She's standing by the rose bushes, her back to you, her shoulders tense.

"Wanda," you say softly, approaching cautiously.

She turns, and her eyes are wide. She’s beautiful. As always. And your heart is about to burst.

"I… I…" she stammers, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

You take a deep breath. "I know," you say.

Her brows furrow. "You know?"

"Yeah, Kate told me. About… everything."

Her cheeks flush a vibrant red. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I’m so embarrassing. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just… you're so… I…" She trails off, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You step closer, reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Wanda," you say, your voice a low hum. "I'm not uncomfortable, I'm… I’m glad. Because… I feel the same way. I’ve been… completely, overwhelmingly, kind of in love with you since forever.”

Her eyes widen further, and a small, hopeful smile flickers across her face. "You… you do?"

You smile, nodding. “I do.”

The silence stretches between you, charged with an energy you both feel. You lean closer, and she does too, and then you’re kissing. Her lips are soft and sweet, and the world disappears around you. It’s perfect, and magical, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

As you pull away for air, you hear a snort behind you. You turn to see Pietro standing nearby, his face a mask of exaggerated disgust.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy," he groans, putting a hand over his eyes. "I’m going to be sick. My best friend and my sister? It's disturbing, revolting, and completely not acceptable. I need to go drink something and forget I ever saw this.” He is clearly overdoing it, and you end up bursting into laughter, which is soon joined by Wanda's giggle.

You look at her, and your heart flips over again. This is it. This awkward, beautiful mess of a romance. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[creature-wizard]

I'm gonna post my controversial thoughts about Jesus 'cause they've been stewing in my head for awhile and I gotta let 'em out.

This isn't going to be me just hating on Jesus for the sake of it. However, it's also challenging to orthodox views of who Jesus is, and I can't say it's all going to be flattering.

Read ahead or don't; but if you do, don't say I didn't warn you.

So. My controversial thoughts on Jesus basically come down to: I think he was a complicated human being, living in a complicated time, responding in a way that made sense to him.

I've read the Gospels with particular attention on Jesus's character, and... in terms of his overall personality and behavior? He reminds me a lot of self-styled spiritual leaders who have a lot of wonderful high-minded ideals where some things are concerned, but are also kinda up their own asses at times. Like the way his followers will ask him some normal question or respond to something in a completely normal way, and he treats them like they're stupid because they didn't manage to clock his quite frankly incomprehensible headspace.

Of course, the narratives are on Jesus's side, so we're supposed to believe that if these guys had just read the Scriptures a little better or had been in a holier headspace, they'd have immediately figured it out. But lots of life experience has taught me that this isn't how anything works. I've also met people who act like this, and I have learned that they are often best avoided, and never to be taken seriously as spiritual teachers.

Also, some of the stuff the Gospels have him doing and saying suggest to me that he may have been prone to mood swings. Like he says a lot of great things about love and compassion! But then he also says a lot of stuff that's just... kinda mean, if not vindictive. Which, that's a characteristic shared by a lot of spiritual leader types that I have come to learn are not the kind of people you want to get too close to.

When I look past the miracles (a number of which are very easily demonstrated to have been embellishments of somewhat less glamorous historical fact), the overall picture I see is someone who had the same kind of charisma as a lot of the people I research. These people also want you to believe that their odd, erratic, and even mean behavior is a manifestation of their divine or enlightened nature.

Do I think this means Jesus was incapable of having good opinions, or that he never said anything worth our attention? No, absolutely not! Again, I think he was a guy, living in a time, doing his best. Sometimes he was a dick, sometimes he threw out bangers. I think love and compassion are supremely important, but I also don't think he has a monopoly on it. (I also think Christianity thinking it knows love better than anyone else and believing it can provide the best access to it is kind of an ego issue.)

And of course, I don't expect to talk anyone out of being Christian with this, nor is that even my aim. These are just my personal opinions based on my observations, that's all.

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm transfem but boymoding in public. I have HRT on my shelf waiting for me, I'm getting more tired of hiding myself every day, but so many of the trans women I see, especially online, just seem miserable?

I tried talking about community building and creating trans normal and trans contentment at an event and got told that people are tired of trans joy and community building and there needs to be more trans anger.

I can deal with bigots. It's literally my job to deal with bigots, but I feel like I'm being put off at this point because so much of the community defines itself by suffering and I do not want to suffer.

I feel like if I start HRT I'll be too trans to be accepted in public but won't be able to find community among trans people because I don't believe in TMA/E divisionist bs

thank you so much for taking the time to send this, i really appreciate you. thank you for taking the time to share your story

I tried talking about community building and creating trans normal and trans contentment at an event and got told that people are tired of trans joy and community building and there needs to be more trans anger.

holy. fucking. shit anon i am so, so sorry you were told that. how the hell are people "tired of trans joy and community building"? what the FUCK does that mean? how jaded and bitter and disenfranchised do you have to believe that "everyone" is "over" being... happy about being trans? trans anger has its place but how is anyone "over" being happy? that is the most defeatist shit i have ever heard in my life. that honestly sounds EXACTLY like the bullshit negative headspace you get into when you're VERY depressed that just makes you hate literally everything. you don't just have to roll over and be miserable because things suck. you don't have to consign yourself to a life of misery just because you're transfem. what the hell. how the hell is that supposed to empower anyone?

thank you for pointing these things out. what a lot of trans women and transfemmes are doing right now is wallowing in their misery. misery does not keep you safe, it keeps you trapped in your pain. focusing on how miserable you are is keeping yourself stuck in the past. you will never progress beyond misery if you refuse to try to break free of it. yes, we suffer. yes, our lives are hard. but why are we focusing on the bad all the time? you can have trans rage and experience trans joy at the exact same time. they're not mutually exclusive.

I feel like if I start HRT I'll be too trans to be accepted in public but won't be able to find community among trans people because I don't believe in TMA/E divisionist bs

that hurts me deeply to read, i am so sorry. i was just standing on my porch having a similar thought, which is i feel more alienated by the queer community right now than i do the general public. i get less flak from cishet people than i do other queers. isn't that fucking sad? we've made the community hostile to our own, each other, not even outsiders who are genuinely trying to oppress us. we're more hostile towards transmascs and men than we are cops trying to enter our spaces. we kick masc nonbinary people out of queer spaces, but then gladly let rad fems in.

i'm glad to hear that you also don't believe in the TME/TMA bullshit, but it sucks so bad that you feel like you will be alienated from other trans women because of it. i really want a lot of the transfems and trans women who do these things to understand that they are hurting other trans women and transfems, NOT just trans men and mascs. like this behavior affects more than just trans men and mascs- it's alienating you from your own community. literally where you belong, and you feel alienated. you're not the only trans woman who's reached out to me about this. how is this behavior supposed to uplift and empower trans women if all it's doing is alienating us from our own communities?

take care of yourself, anon. i hope things improve for you. you have every right to not want to continue suffering like that. you're not obligated to sulk and focus on how bad you have it every single day just because you're transfem, you literally KNOW how bad transfems have it. you don't need to be repeatedly reminded how bad we have it. you don't need to constantly be thinking about it. you don't need to constantly remind yourself that you're miserable in order to be a transfem.

that's your reality. you don't want to stay trapped in the parts that suck, you just want to be yourself, and that's what transness is all about. i hope you're able to start HRT soon and stop hiding and just be yourself. you deserve that. there are still plenty of kind, open minded transfems and trans women who don't behave this way, and i hope some make their way into your life so you can talk to people who get you without fear of being made to feel bad for no reason. if you have any questions about it or need any help, please feel free to come by and ask any questions you may have, we'll be happy to help! you've got the right approach, other people just need to catch up. thanks for stopping by, feel free to come by again any time

[freakydeaky6969]

Training officer Leon Kennedy x Fem Rookie Reader

WARNINGS: PROFANITY, IMPLIED AGE GAP, AWKWARD SITUATIONS, Litterally nothing else but part 2 is a little friskier

Word count:

I have part of part.2 if y’all want it just lmk😛

Oh and this is NOT proofread so sorry🙃

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

The mindless buzz of the radio echoed through the dirty policed issued junker. Street lights illuminating your face through the dusty windshield. The pitch black darkness of the outside blanketed the ground casting darkness around the light of the streetlights on the sidestreet where you and your TO were parked.

Yet another long houred stakeout you and your training officer had to babysit. Being a rookie meant long grueling hours and staying in a shitty motel paid for by the department.

You and your training officer’s shift was from 5am to 9pm. Usually your shifts aren't this long but your TO, Officer Kennedy volunteered the two of you for the long shift without you knowledge, of course. He is always looking for more hours to teach you the ins and outs of police work. He really is passionate about his job.

You take the hand your head was resting on and bring it out in front of your exhausted eyes to check the time on your watch.

8:56

Only 4 more minutes of this awful silence before you can sleep in some shitty motel bed to do this all over again.

It’s not that your training officer is boring, quite the opposite actually. The two of you can talk for hours on end about everything and nothing at the same time. Talking about things from life and philosophies to stupid things like movies and tv shows. However, he was very passionate that stakeouts are supposed to be silent.

If he wasn't your training officer and ahead of you in your chain of command you’d totally ask him out. Not only did the two of you instantly click the day he was assigned to be your training officer but he really is gorgeous. He has a sharp defined jawline, sandy blonde hair pushed back out of his face, pretty pinkish lips that look so soft, and piercing blue eyes that you could stare into for hours and never get bored.

“You done daydreaming rookie, our shift is over” Kennedy says with a tired smile, already out of the car holding your door open waiting for you to get out.

“Oh shoot sorry” you say sleepily apologetic, hurrying out of the vehicle before he shuts the door, letting out an awful creaking noise. “Is this junker the best they can afford?” you say staring judgefully at the beat up dirty black sedan you've been sitting in for the past 17 hours.

He huffs out a breathy laugh, “Oh this is nothing, you should've seen the trash they stuck me with when I was a rookie. You should be glad I'm your TO, we got one of the better ones”. He says while starting to walk towards the gas station you were meeting up with the next shift at.

He looks back to make sure you're catching up to him as you lagged back looking at the dents on the car.

You hurry up to his side, continuing a normal pace to match his.

“I can’t wait to take this uniform off and go to sleep” you say sighing whilst walking on the sidewalk just inches away from Kennedy.

“Me too, I'm exhausted, that had to be the longest shift of my career. But if it gives you valuable stakeout experience I'm all for it” Kennedy says, turning his eyes to meet yours with a sleepy smile. “And you're not horrible to be around y’know” he says staring into your eyes so strongly you think he must see your soul.

‘God if he was someone, anyone else, I’d be with him right now’ is all you could think when he gave you that sweet genuine smile. And you know he cares about you, he's gone in the line of fire to protect you countless times, but that's just his job, right?

You smile back at him and stare back into his icy blue eyes that were anything but cold. You’d swear that coworkers don't look at each other this way, but you have a tendency to be a little delusional. ‘We’re just two coworkers who flirt a little, that's normal’, you tell yourself.

After breaking eye contact your mind starts wandering. Maybe you aren't being delusional?

Kennedy looks over seeing you lost in thought staring off into space as you approach the brightly lit gas station. A red and blue “Open” sign flashed in your eyes catching your attention at the same time as his words “You okay rookie? You spaced out on me there” he says with nothing but concern on his pink face.

You immediately become flustered and feel your cheeks heat up so much they must be steaming in this bitter cold weather, realizing that you were daydreaming about the man standing right next to you. “Uhh yeah” you say hoping he doesn't pick up on your blush.

“You daydreamin’ about me or something” he says with a sly smile after he spotted your cheeks warming.

Your eyes shoot open before slapping him on his arm “shut up, you wish” you say with a scoff so he doesn't notice you internally screaming at yourself.

He chuckles and opens the door for you gesturing for you to walk in infront of him.

‘Ugh at this point I'm gonna fall in love with him before I become an actual officer’ is all you can think as he walks beside you to the employee break room of the gas station, opening the door for you once again. You catch yourself staring at the way the cuff of his shirt gets tight on his thick bicep when he moves it.

You enter the room and lock eyes with the night shift. A pale brown haired man with a 5 o’clock shadow standing stiffly in an isolated corner. The screen of his phone lit up his pale face highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. A stereotypical night shifter.

Kennedy tells him what we’ve learned over the course of our shift and the pale man nods before walking out of the room without another word.

Kennedy grabs a backpack and the cash on the table left by the department to use at the nextdoor motel for us to stay at until our next shift since it's so early, and this stakeout is particularly far. He opens the doors for you, as usual, and starts heading to the motel.

The flashing red light from the broken motel sign lights up Kennedys face beautifully. Painting every crevice of his face in deep red light. The red mixes with the blue of his eyes making them appear to be grey, and more beautiful than ever.

When you get inside you walk up to the older lady wearing a brown blouse sitting at the stand. “Hi, could we have two rooms please, preferably with anything bigger than a twin bed” you say with a polite smile.

“Sorry sweetie we’re fully booked, only got a room with a full” the lady says in a thick Appalachian accent.

“A room?” Kennedy asks from a step behind you.

“Yup, ‘ts all we got” she says with an unbothered shrug.

You and Kennedy exchange glances and you sit in silence trying to come up with a win-win solution to your problem.

He brings his hand up to place it on the back of his neck looking at you in an awakened silence. “Why don’t you take the room, my car isn’t too far, I can slee-”

You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence “Hell no it's freezing outside, im not letting you sleep in your car”. You say like it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard before turning back to the lady at the stand. “We’ll take that room please” you say with a smile and turn back to Kennedy. “We’re both grown adults, we can share a room” you say insistently.

He shrugs and grabs the room key from the lady and heads toward your room on the second floor. While going up the stairs you notice him look at you with a sly smile “Jeez rookie if you wanted to share a bed with me this badly you could’ve just asked”.

You whip your head over to meet his, giving him a dirty look and rolling your eyes. “I did not” you say with a blank face.

“You sure? Seemed pretty insistent on me sleeping with you” he says smirking at his carefully chosen words.

“Gross, we’re sharing a bed not having sex. This is real life not one of your little fantasies” you say chuckling at your remark when you see his face drop.

Kennedy tries to come up with a comeback but is left blank. He scoffs “Whatever” before arriving at the door to your room reading ‘206’. He opens it and ushers you inside and out of the frigid cold.

When inside he plops down his small black and grey backpack he had kept at the gas station. He unzips the bag you didn't even realize he had, and starts pulling out shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in. He looks over to see you staring at him when he realizes you didn't have a bag with you.

“Did you seriously not bring a change of clothes?” he asks, looking genuinely shocked since you’re usually quite prepared.

“I completely forgot” you say slapping your hand on your forehead, closing your eyes and groaning at the thought of sleeping in your uniform.

He chuckles at your moping before throwing a shirt and some boxers at your head. “Here” he says with no elaboration.

You feel the slap of fabric on your face, looking at his clothes now at your feet. “No way, i'm not making you sleep in uniform” you say while picking up his clothes from where they had fallen on the floor. Walking up to him holding them out.

“Don’t worry about it, I brought shorts i'll just sleep in those” he says innocently like it's nothing.

You hesitantly accept and head to the bathroom to change. ‘Sleeping in a small bed with Leon Kennedy. In nothing but shorts. What could go wrong’ you think nervously while staring in the bathroom mirror. You change and stare at yourself in the mirror. Dressed in his clothes that smell just like him has you feeling all kinds of things. You walk out of the bathroom and stop in place when you see leon on his phone standing by the bed in nothing but shorts. Your eyes trail from his biceps, across his chest, down his toned muscular stomach, and a trail of sandy blond hair leading down into his shorts. Realizing where you are staring you snap your eyes back up only to see him staring at you dressed in his baggy clothes.

“Wow uh, you look good” he says almost out of breath.

“I'm just in a t-shirt weirdo” you say, feeling your cheeks heating up at his staring. You walk over to your side of the bed and plop down on your back and shut your eyes. Letting out the deepest breath you feel like you’ve been holding on to all day. You seriously were so tired you could fall asleep in seconds. Instead, you chose to force yourself back up to turn off the main light. You’re feet hit the cold floor jolting you awake. You turn off the light and turn around, going back to the bed you see Kennedy already under the covers. Part of you is a little sad you don’t get to stare at him just a little longer.

You follow his lead and climb under the covers and get comfortable. You lie on your back staring at the ceiling ‘why can't I fall asleep? I just worked way too many hours to be restless’ you thought to yourself. Too deep in thought to notice Kennedy in the same position but staring at you instead of the ceiling.

You look back over at him, finding his bright blue eyes through the darkness of the stuffy motel room. He was almost analyzing your face. Every feature, every freckle, every mole, every perfection.

“You’re so beautiful y’know” he says out of the blue. It’s not unusual for the two of you to flirt by any means, but this felt different. Felt real. Like everything we’ve said before was just jokes up until now.

[funnier-as-a-system]

Hey, um... This ain't exactly.. An easy thing to say but, uh..

.._I SCARED OFF MY HEADMATES._

I JUST REFERRED TO THEM AS "THE VOICES" BECAUSE. WELL. I DIDN'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT THIS STUFF THEN!! AND ALWAYS DISREGARDED THEM WHENEVER THEY SPOKE [THEY ARGUES A WHOLE LOT. LITERALLY COULDN'T DO ANY WORK FROM THE SOUNDS OF 0NI, D AND COMPLEXITY ARGUING ALL THE TIME-]

Ok.. Calm calm.....

So. I never ever listened to them and sometimes also arguing with them tried my best to ignore them.. Yelling "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" repeatedly usually got them to... Well, _shut up._

But just. We had another argument together. After _STARSCREAM_[don't even ask me how she got in here I don't fucking know] decided to act all mighty and shit another yelling match started that I just.. Couldn't take it anymore.. I had some.. Uhm, "quite the words" to say the least. They silenced for the day after that..

And then the next morning they just.. Weren't there when I woke up. At first I was, well, glad! It was finally quite for once! I could do things that normal people did! But uh.. After the second day it was far too quiet for my liking.. And.. It's been a month now. It's still too quiet.. Starscream[why HIM instead of others I have no idea] came back for 20 minutes a week ago.. I was glad to have at least SOMEONE back but she went away again..

I learned about this whole "system" stuff thanks to a follower saying "oh this is such a funny post as a system!" on a reblog I've done. --Which led me here. I've been... _Learning_ the past few days.. And. Well. Things really do fit me well and.. I'm not sure if I hate that or not...

I.. The reason for this _ask_ is because.. I wanted to know if others had this.. Well, "_experience_" too? Like.. I.. I miss them, alright? It suddenly went from 7 to 1 in here and it's far too quiete!!! I just.. I wanted to know if there was possibly a way to bring them back..?

I understand if this isn't the way to go for this typa stuff but... I.. I really don't know _where else_ there is.

Welp. Thanks for.. Having this account and all I suppose. Were a real help in things and, the posts are quite funny as well..! [Sigh..]

- @blog-bites-eats-u-violently

Hey, there. It sounds like you've been having a rough time lately. You have my sympathies for that. I won't give too much advice on this situation you're in – I don't feel equipped to do that – but you're not alone in this experience, anon. We went through a very similar situation a few years back, actually.

At the time, we'd just recently made our then-host (as in, the headmate who was our host at the time) aware that they had others in their head, that they were part of a system. We had... a rough few months after that, filled with fear and doubt. And at one point, our then-host became overwhelmed, and ended up driving away the headmates who were talking to them.

The silence lasted for about two days before another headmate of ours stepped up to talk to our then-host, helping them work through their issues and reconnect with those they'd run off. From what they can remember of the event, it was mostly a matter of mentally "reaching out" – consciously trying to connect to the ones they'd driven off so they could apologize. None of us are sure how it worked – best we've got is that we've always visualized our communication difficulties as walls that we have to get our internal communication/messages past – but it did, and we're all chill now on that front.

So, yes, others have had this experience before, and your headmates will likely come back to talk to you again. I can't promise anything, but if my-our story is anything to go off of, even situations like this can be recoverable. It just may take a while for all the hurt to be worked out.

[radioactive-dazey]

ADDING THIS HERE BECAUSE IT GOT LOST IN MY DRAFTS FOR A FEW MONTHS: HI! NOT SURE WHY I DIDN'T POST THIS BEFORE, THESE THOUGHTS ARE FAIRLY WELL WRITTEN IF NOT A LITTLE INCOMPLETE but I don't want it in my drafts anymore. Still think they mostly hold up, not sure what else I would have added, but one or two things seem random or weird seeing as I am, once again, trying to engage with the fandom less, but onto my thoughts!

I think I'm pretty fair: valid criticism about my post/this line of thinking and brings up quite a few things I didn't give myself a chance to consider xD

As I said in my post, I don't like the representation in which I am defending. I try really hard to disassociate myself from interpretations of remus that do water him down: after a certain point, it's just not Remus

I should mention a last point I gathered: while this is more of a point explaining why people don't write intrusive thoughts (and less about them being able to get away with doing so) it comes from a deep misunderstanding on what intrusive thoughts are. This comparison could be said about the way Virgil was characterized in the early days of the fandom. While I think it's safe to assume the intention with DWIT was to educate and (so to speak) "normalize" the existence of intrusive thoughts, it would be harder for me to say that that message was well recieved. While I have gained better understanding and patience with my own intrusive thoughts as a result of the episode, I feel it has also fueled such misunderstanding, ESPECIALLY with more recent episodes and fan integrated content.

In reference to what I said about the fandom having better things to talk about, I should elaborate: I've noticed that many people don't engage with my posts criticizing Thomas +Co., and that bugs me. There is so much value to having more people engaged in that discussion, but too many people are either trying to water it down by minimizing his actions, ignoring them entirely, or are rallying to defend him. I only more recently joined in the critiquing side of things because I only more recently came back to the fandom. I took a several year hiatus (honestly about 4 years) where I didn't engage with the fandom beyond liking the occasional post on Instagram. I had even unfollowed Thomas and unsubbed from his YouTube for a period of time because I really stopped watching his content as a whole. I think my only REAL interactions with the fandom was when people engaged with my fics (I was still writing then throughout this time lol)

Another point I'd like to elaborate on: escapism. To be honest, this was my biggest fumble with writing my initial post. I should have elaborated on this further as well as I communicated ineffectively. What I meant by this, is more of escapism from real life stressors and NOT intrusive thoughts as a topic as a whole. While I think it's easy to reach that conclusion when I mention points such as "not writing intrusive thoughts as I experience them." I really just meant the world at large.

Let's Talk About "Watering Down Characters" (& Very Specifically Remus Sanders)

I am responding to THIS POST, "Why I think people should be allowed to “water down” Remus", by @radioactive-dazey and creating a discussion around this topic. I feel like the idea of changing a character's personality is heavily talked about and done within every fandom aaannd with this post being talked about, I want to step in and say some things because I have Many Things To Say.

And before anyone says shit: I am a ts criticiser, yes, but I criticise everything about the fandom and show— not just Thomas. IDGAF that we have "better things to talk about", I've been talking about those things for like 4 years now and now I'm criticising the fandom. I can do it all.

Feel free to respond with your own opinions if you're replying to me. Can't say I'll reply to them all, but I like hearing what people have to say.

I am very aware that watering down characters is an inherent part of fandom. No matter what fandom you join or what media you get into, there is always a huge part of that community that waters characters down, changes their entire personality, or writes them differently. I do agree that this is just What Happens when you are in fandom. Not everyone understands source material, not everyone has the same opinions when analysing a show, and not everyone cares about it that much.

Personally, I don't get why you would talk about a piece of media and change everything about it, because then you're not enjoying the media, you're enjoying something completely different. But this is fandom and people have fun in different ways and I agree that you need to learn when to look the other way and let people exist.

However, I run a critical blog and my fun is criticising.

"It can be hard to write intrusive thoughts in a respectful way, so people avoid it."

OP brings up that writers may not know how to write intrusive thoughts and so they avoid it, in order to not "writing wrong". Which is alright to do! You don't have to write about serious topics... BUT... if you are voluntarily choosing to write about a series that includes the topic that you don't know how to write about, maybe... you should take the time to learn how to write it.

If you don't want to write about intrusive thoughts, I don't think you should be forced to, but if you are writing a character that controls intrusive thoughts, it makes zero sense to completely remove that aspect when you simply should not write him.

It's brought up how mischaracterising Remus leads to the misunderstanding of intrusive thoughts themselves and stigma surrounding them. Changing Remus' character is fun and all, until we remember that he represents something very serious and important. It's something that actively impacts people. Which is my issue with "escapism" within fandom (touched on later in this post). When people actively ignore real issues happening within the fandom, or in this case, the real issues the series itself is about, by ignoring Remus' character, watering it down, or completely changing it, you are causing more harm to intrusive thoughts and the disorders that are connected to them.

Let's bring up an example: Jimmy from Mouthwashing.

Mouthwashing is a game about a very heavy topic: sexual assault. You play as Jimmy, the main perpetrator, though all the men in the game have a role to play (bystander affect, toxic masculinity, etc).

The fandom is already watering down these characters and topics. Introducing shipping to a game with characters that shouldn't be shipped; making the characters all sweet, perfect, stupid angels who didn't know any better; implying that if Anya had told someone else then she would've been saved, and it's her fault she told Curly in the first place. I could go on and on.

Obviously, Sanders Sides is about different topics. Obviously, Remus is not the same as Jimmy. This isn't a perfect comparison.

But it'd be completely strange if someone told you they were using Mouthwashing as a way to escape real-life issues. That they're writing Jimmy differently, or completely removing the sexual assault entirely, because it's "hard to write".

This is at best super fucking stupid, and at worse actively harmful (which it is). If you can't write the topic of SA, simply do not write for MW in the first place. The same applies with Sanders Sides, and any other piece of media.

"Writers use writing/fandom to escape real life and may not want to talk about those topics."

This is not an inherently wrong statement, but it does ask a question:

If you are joining a fandom to "escape real-life topics", why are you joining one that talks about those real-life topics?

Sanders Sides is a web-series that discusses morality, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, catholism, and other heavy-hitting topics. With the introduction of the dark sides, with certain plot points and arcs— Sanders Sides is very much about those "real-life topics". If you are trying to avoid writing about intrusive thoughts, writing for a show that talks heavily about intrusive thoughts and has an entire character that controls intrusive thoughts isn't... a bright idea.

I know there's this entire talk about using fandom to escape, which is something I have talked about repeatedly on this blog, mainly when we talk about racism within fandom. When you bring up serious topics, people flee and get upset because this is their "safe place", when in actuality, it's a safe place for them and no one else. They are using the phrase "escapism" and "safe place" as a way to spout racist rhetoric without consequences. We all know how I feel about the idea of "escaping through fandom."

The statement "I don't write Remus in character because I'm escaping real-life" makes me raise an eyebrow, because.... the entire show is about that. You're escaping through something that has exactly what you escaping from— that's like if I said I was avoiding my triggers by watching something that included my trigger.

The better answer is just don't watch.

It's the same sentiment I held throughout the fandom after Remus was introduced. "Can you please tag 'duke dont look' or 'remus tw'? He squicks me out." I respect your triggers and squicks and I acknowledge that sometimes they can stem from strange places and be "irrational", but... if your trigger is an entire character, it makes more sense to simply leave the fandom instead of ask everyone to collectively keep in mind your feelings.

If you don't want to write intrusive thoughts, that's okay and I respect this, but maybe you shouldn't be writing for Sanders Sides in the first place if you "can't handle" what the series is about.

I know Sanders Sides did not start off like that, I understand if it was a way to escape at the beginning stages of season one, but it is more serious now. If it's including topics you cannot handle, then you need to take care of yourself and leave.

This mentality of "this makes me uncomfortable, so I don't have to partake" is such an interesting one. Mainly because people think their uncomfortableness always stems from a good place, a place that isn't allowed to be questioned. You can't get mad when someone is feeling bad, because those are their emotions. "If I am feeling uncomfortable, you should respect me and let me be."

But the issue with this is that sometimes (a lot of the times) the things that make you uncomfortable aren't inherently an issue. Sometimes it is an underlying thing you need to work through. Sometimes it's good to step outside of your comfort zone.

I have agoraphobia, which is the fear of leaving my house and going outside. If I was constantly letting this fear control me, I would never leave my house. This feeling doesn't stem from a good place. I need to be comfortable leaving my house and I need to force myself out.

You don't let uncomfortableness or fear control your morals. Just because something makes you Feel Bad, doesn't mean it is Actually Bad.

Which is why I think this debate is brought up. It's always talked about how one feels about Remus, how one feels about intrusive thoughts.

"What if they don't like writing about it?" "What if they don't feel comfortable writing something they don't know?" "But Remus makes me uncomfortable, I can't accept him."

Your feelings, while okay to have, are not always "valid."

You can feel how you want about Remus, but no one is forcing you to write him. When you write fanfiction, you are voluntarily writing it. You are choosing to create content within the media.

If you don't like the content in Sanders Sides; if you don't know how to accurately write intrusive thoughts; if you won't learn how to accurately write them; if you can't handle the topics that are in the series, itself; then why are you here? Why are you choosing to write it? Why are you in the fandom?

Change him all you want, but a better option is simply don't write him in the first place. You have no reason to mischaracterise him when writing him is a chose you actively chose to do.

Sure, it boils down to personal interpretation and "what you want to write", but if your interpretation is going completely against what is represented in Sanders Sides, then what are you here for? Which wraps all the way around back to my own personal opinion on mischaracterising characters:

If you're changing the characters completely, then do you even like them or their story or source material?

[feferipeixes]

vent

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[lunarharp]

post that reads like a mood swing

[calypsolemon]

Everyone on this website talks about the choice to not have children to end the terrible cycle of familial abuse or whatever but I feel like nobody on here wants to talk about the more mundane and pressing reality of wanting children but being paralyzed by the understanding that bringing them into our current society inherently means traumatizing them in some small way simply because there are no good options.

Like. Dont want to put a child through public school because public school sucks, but homeschool is isolating and private school is not an option for ppl with no money. Dont want to raise a child with a forced gender but attempting to raise a child neutrally may socially isolate them or cause authorities to question your parenting methods. Don't want to raise a child in an isolated suburb where they have nowhere to travel independantly but affordable housing with ample room for families in city environments are basically nonexistent.

It can be hard not to feel judgemental of yourself for wanting to bring a child into the world at all under these conditions. Unlike with refusing to continue the "cursed bloodline" or whatever, there's just no personal pride one can take in deciding not to have kids because the world would force me to make choices that hurt them irregardless of my desires.

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[carouselunique]

Is it true that there's no animosity between you and... you know, you know who. You never talk about her in any way. I guess I'm curious. You guys seemed like really close friends and then just weren't friends at all. And there was some stuff she said that seemed very targeted at you...

I don't know if she feels any animosity toward me or not any more. Our mutual friends have said she doesn't and I take them on their word in that regard, assuming that if they have an answer for me it's because they're aware how she feels. I wouldn't know and it's not my place to put words in her mouth.

I haven't spoken to her/about her in a long time and the only time she even crosses my mind is when people bring her up to me. As for me feeling any animosity? I'll admit my feelings on her these days are complicated and way too nuance-core for people who aren't my friends to hear about but I wouldn't call them animosity in any way. I inherently want people my friends care about to live well because I care about my friends, and anyone my friends care about by proxy and I still share friends with her. I would never wish ill on people my friends care about so animosity doesn't fit into that by definition. I'd say I'm hurt more than anything and even then I've worked through a lot of it with trusted friends who have helped me deal with my emotions in a healthy way.

(Besides, my own life struggles keep me from even being able to invest time into animosity. I have to expend that energy loving my family, doing my best to support them during our struggles. And I've never been a hateful person it isn't in me. I would rather play 'Hot To Go' by Chappell Roan and teach my dad how to do the hand gestures to help him strengthen his muscles again than focus on hating anyone...)

I try not to think about her because it hurts. I often think that people forget that I'm a real person outside of her sphere, and that I wouldn't want to talk about what happened because I truly did consider her a friend for a long time. And when someone I consider a friend appears to not regard me with care any more suddenly and I don't even have closure on that... well... it hurts... A lot. Of course I never talk about it.

And I'm not stupid, I have seen some stuff she's said that I've gathered was about me. I remind myself that she has a right to vent in her own spaces and I truly mean that... it's just a shame that her own spaces have people who then have taken these things to me to show me (after all, I wouldn't have even seen these things myself if not for third-party anons going 'this u?') saying it is my own fault because I was a terribly cruel friend or my own fault for not listening to warnings about her when I had the chance and that makes me a stupid gullible bitch. You lot haven't seen some of the awful shit about me from some of her more ravenous fans and haters I've seen over the years that I've had to let roll off my back in the fear it would bring backlash - not even to me, to her. I don't want to be the cause of any hatred going to anyone.

Also I'm just not going to ever talk about the details of our fallen friendship or our fallen relationship. That's private. She might be a public person to some extent but I never was, even if I do gain some measure of small fandom for my work one day I'm just private about personal matters especially raw ones. I almost deleted this ask entirely but Idk I never stated that it bothers me when people talk to me about her from my own mouth, so I guess that's what this ramble is.

If you send me anything about Lily Orchard it will not be addressed. I am not a part of her life not even through our mutual friends. I do not know or care what's going on with her public/personal life. I haven't kept up. I will never keep up. Don't treat me as an extension of the situation because I am not in the situation. In the most plainly stated sense of the word: Leave me the Hell alone. (...pretty please.)

All I've wanted this entire time was to be left alone to process everything in a healthy, peaceful way. I'm workin' on it.

[genderqueerdykes]

Up until very recently I thought I was cis. But then I actually met some trans/NB folks (growing up in a very small town says hi) and came to the conclusion that my relationship with gender was probably best summed up as "meh, I'm not a boy?" And, overall, I'm fairly content with that but in the last couple months I've started seeing posts from you more and more and...well...today one of your posts showed up where you were responding to someone talking about wanting both a penis and a vagina and...that's...normal? Like, I'm not broken for being a woman who wants both while also wanting to be sterile? I just...I don't know what to do with this information now that I have it. Also, I'm very glad that you do what you do. (Sorry if this is a bit disjointed. It's very late at night and I'm sitting in my bathroom trying not to have, yet another, identity crisis...)

hello there! i'm very sorry it took me so long to get back to you! i hope you're doing a bit better by now! thanks for taking the time to stop by!

today one of your posts showed up where you were responding to someone talking about wanting both a penis and a vagina and…that's…normal? Like, I'm not broken for being a woman who wants both while also wanting to be sterile?

you're not broken at all! there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, so many people also want that as well! there's nothing wrong with wanting to be sterile, either! if you'd rather not have surprise kids, hey, power to you, that's taking your bodily autonomy into your own hands! i was told that i was sterile when i was diagnosed as intersex and i was like "YESSSS" LMAO. if i ever actually get bottom surgery, i would like to have both, as well! i don't want to get rid of my vagina, i just want to add a penis.

there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting that. your body is your body, and you're allowed to decide what's right for you. you know your relationship with your body and your gender better than anyone else, don't ever let someone else tell you that it's not okay to want that. its your gender, and your body, nobody else gets to tell you what you do or don't do with your genitals

i know there's a ton of people who relate, so if you do, feel free to add your experiences in the replies, tags, comments, etc.! this will probably help anon feel a lot less alone

i hope this helps somewhat! please feel free to ask any more questions you may have, i will be happy to help! again sorry for the delay, large influx of asks recently!

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

'...you know jokes like those actually hurt me, right?'

"who said I was joking?"

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'oh.'

[sherlock-is-ace]

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