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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

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Heaven in Your Eyes|| Arthur Shelby x OC!Reader

Summary: When Arthur comes home with his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, willing to introduce you to the family, the reactions are lukewarm. Some love you, some are wary, and others do not really care. But when it comes to Thomas Shelby, things are different. After meeting you he comes to two conclusions: first, Arthur is madly smitten with you to the point it worries him. Second, he does not like you. Not at all. That's why he tries to scare you away.

Words: 4,5k

TW: smut, non-protected sex, p in v, age gap (reader is in her late 20s), typical canon violence, mention of suicide attempt, mention of drugs, Tommy being a dick,

Notes: ✞ All chapters can be read as stand-alones but it's obviously better if you read everything.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Bloody Hell.”

That was all John could say when his vibrant blue eyes fell on you. The night Thomas told him Linda and Arthur had divorced, he could not believe it. He, more than anyone else, was well aware of his older brother’s tendencies to kowtow under his wife’s authority. Hence his reluctance to believe in such an improbable event. Once he processed the information, John thought about the whole ordeal over and over again. At first, he genuinely thought Linda was the one who left for she had already threatened Arthur to do so countless times. Let alone the fact their relationship had been hanging on by a thread for a while. Somehow he could not blame her — dealing with his brother’s mental illness and tantrums was overwhelming, he could get it, but if there were positive traits among Arthur’s troubled behaviors they were certainly his loyalty and the gigantic amount of love he could give to his significant other. That was why he was persuaded Arthur would never leave his wife, as much as John and the Shelby women warned him she was not a good person.

— And here he came today after weeks of absolute ghosting, the fairest creature he has ever seen snuggling in his arms. For sure, no one expected it.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell.” He reiterated, standing in the doorway with his hand still on the knob and his eyes wide open. Astounded, John looked at you from head to toe for probably the tenth time in a row.

“Are ya going to stand there like a dumbass or can we come in?” Arthur growled. He tightened his protective embrace around you, ready to bounce on his little brother’s throat at the slightest inappropriate comment. You bit your lip, not really sure what to do or say — maybe meeting the Shelby family was not a good idea after all.

“Is she really your woman?”

“Fuck off, John! Let us in.” Arthur said louder. He did not want to throw a brutal fit in front of you but you could feel his body shaking against yours, for John was about to cross the very short limits of his patience. One of your small hands gently stroked his chest in an attempt to calm him. Luckily for John, the sensation of your cold skin, which he could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt, was enough to tame his fire.

John Shelby blinked again and, this time, his thin adorable lips stretched in a teasing smile. You did not know him, but you felt he was about to say something stupid. Very stupid.

“How could such a stunning young girl like her be interested in an old and ugly ass dog like you? Fuck, is that your real hair color tho?”

The flip in Arthur’s brain switched - it was too much for him not to react.

“YOU LIL PIECE OF —“

“Arthur, dear.” You said with an indescribably soft voice, stepping in front of him to block his path. You pressed your hands on his chest a second time to gently keep him from fighting with his younger brother and probably knocking him out with his bare fists, “It’s alright. He is just messing with ya, you know?” You looked at him, a loving smile flattering your juicy lips. Letting a long and noisy exhale out of his quavering mouth, Arthur looked dagger at his brother one last time with a threatening gleam burning in his iris before shifting his focus on you. As soon as his steel blue eyes caught sight of your adorable pout his face relaxed.

“Alright. Alright.” He whispered, feeling his rage evaporating at the sole view of your holy smile, “Ain’t going to smash his face in front of such a delicate little lady, eh.” He said. The gravel in his voice never failed to make you burn with both love and desire. Then, he leaned over you for a kiss, his mind finding its peace only when your lips crashed together.

John watched the scene with vivid interest, for he had never seen someone handling his brother with such genuine care. To be honest, he had hated Linda since day one — not only for the power she exerted on Arthur but also because of her irritating and condescending nature. She had always walked among the Shelby family as if she had been irremediably better than them, both morally and socially. John could not help but see all her sweet gestures being tainted with a will of controlling Arthur. That, along with the muzzle and leash she had put on her brother, strengthened his deep aversion for Linda. But you were different — he could sense it. There was something about the way your fingers laid upon his brother as if you were not afraid of his destructive fire but did not want to extinguish it either. Also something about the way you looked at him, with both love and admiration, to the point he could not say if you were his guiding light or if it was the other way round. And when he saw the sudden shift in Arthur’s behavior, immediately calming down at your angelic voice, he knew you were the one.

“Moreover” You added, slowly pulling away from the kiss to press your forehead against his. Arthur looked at you with eyes half closed, bewitched by your enchanting tone.

“Hmm?”

“I only see one ugly ass dog here and it’s chewing on a toothpick.” Your smile turned into a cunning smirk and your precious aquamarine eyes glanced at John.

“Hey! Hold your woman.” John retorted, pretending to be vexed — truth was he liked your wit, “Alright you can come in,” he said, stepping away from the doorway to invite you inside the Shelby’s house.

“Ain’t holding shit, I love it when me angel bites,” Arthur stated with one sharp, almost carnivorous grin on his face. As he passed by his little brother he punched him right in the shoulder in a typical sibling way to avenge himself. The younger one swore.

You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, trying to find the necessary courage you needed for this first encounter. Admittedly, you did not know what to expect, but one thing you knew was that the Shelby family was not people you wanted to mess with.

A relieved sigh escaped from your lips as you filled the teapot with water, all alone in the family kitchen. You enjoyed this quick moment of calmness, soothed by the pleasant smell of freshly baked cookies Esme had taken out of the oven minutes ago. The wooden floor creaked when Arthur entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. As soon as you left the table following Polly’s comment he had followed you.

“Yer okay?” He asked, his hoarse voice highlighted with sincere worries.

“I’m fine dear,” You glanced at him above your shoulder and offered a light smile to reassure him even though you both knew you were hurt, “You should go back to your family, I won’t be long.. Just needed to take a big breath. And we are running out of tea.” You added, waving off his question.

Arthur shook his head in disapproval and walked toward you with his so-specific yet adorable gait, swinging both arms at the same time. You had always found this detail absolutely endearing, which had surprised him at first — you never mocked him for the way he walked, nor made the slightest snarky remark.

Your smile, flickering and fragile at first, soon widened in comfort knowing he’ll keep you company during this life-saving break.

“I’m sorry for what Pol said to you. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Pretty sure she did mean I was a Devil and that I’ll bring woe to this family, but it’s fine.” You said before shifting your attention back to the teapot. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in a tight and reassuring back hug. As soon your bodies collided together, his warmth alleviated all your doubts and you found a well-deserved comfort in his presence. Worries vanished in smoke, annihilated by his protective demeanor.

Each time you touched was a reminder that everything will always be fine as long as you were together.

You wiggled your nose like a little bunny for his musky perfume tickled your nostrils. And its familiar fragrances were enough to chase Polly’s unpleasant comments away from your brain. If you had not been busy making tea, you would have buried your face in his chest and never moved again.

“It has nothing to do with ya,” Arthur broke the silence first, “it’s your hair.”

“My hair?” You asked in a half-convinced tone, one brow raised.

“Yes, your hair. She thinks someone cast a spell on ya when you were young or something, and she’s afraid the spell will harm her too if she sits next to you. Like it’s bloody contagious. It’s some kind of superstitious shit, not that she had really felt something evil in you.”

At such a revelation, you brought your small hand to your mouth to cover it and tried your best not to laugh. If her words had hurt you, painfully reminding your troubled life in France, the idea of a strong woman like Polly Gray being afraid of you only because of the color of your hair had something hilarious.

“Esme too. She told me she’d personally kick me in the balls if her fookin’ baby comes out with white hair. But that woman is batshit crazy anyway. Pretty sure she’ll kick me in the bollocks for free.” He growled, his arms tightening around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Arthur was holding you firmly as if he was afraid you might run away from him after the disastrous encounter with the two Shelby women. After waiting all his life for a woman not to flee from him, he would break into a million pieces if you would do so. Fortunately enough, Ada seemed to like you. She fancied your wit and your curiosity. Most of the afternoon had been spent chatting with her and John under the judging eyes of both Polly and Esme. Usually, people would shut Ada down each time she would talk about politics, especially about her communist ideas, but you did not. Quite the contrary, you listened to her carefully and questioned her with a genuine will to learn — even though you had never been good with politics. At least the conversation had been stimulating. And just like John before, she had also noticed the indescribable care and love with which you blessed her older brother, never controlling him, and always showering him with signs of deep affection. Maybe that was why she did not tease you when she noticed that you and Arthur were holding hands under the table.

As for Finn, he had been too busy staring at Arthur with eyes wide open to even bother interacting with you. He could not believe that you, a tiny young white-haired girl with an angel face, were in love with his violent brother.

“So they think I’m contagious.” You might have been too confident about your ability to remain impassive because you suddenly snorted with laughter as you understood the true nature of their rude behavior. The crystalline laugh that escaped your mouth sounded like the most delicate music to his ears — he would listen to it with delight each time, his sick brain momentarily forgetting the booming canons and cacophony of war. Arthur, relieved by your reaction, allowed himself to chuckle along.

“They do, eh.” He admitted, his lips gently brushing your neck, irremediably attracted by your fragile porcelain flesh. His breath, slow and peaceful, caressed your sensitive skin as he exhaled, sending shivers down your spine. Arthur closed his eyes for a second and let the delightful scents of your perfume intoxicate him. Way stronger than any drugs, your fragrances made his head spin — he was losing touch with reality but, this time, he was more than allowing it to happen. Because instead of being sent into a violent craze, he would drown in a blissful haze.

“You should flee from me, I might infect you too, and you’ll be under my spell.” You teased, your heavy French accent adorning your words.

“I’m already under your spell, love.” His arms freed your waist from their grip only for his strong, calloused hands to run up your sides. How much you enjoyed the sensation of your body flickering under his touch as his soft fingers left trails of fire in their sillage until they finally cupped your small breasts. A blazing desire awoke in your belly and spread like wildfire through every inch of your flesh.

“Arthur — no,” You looked around you to make sure no one had discreetly entered the kitchen.

“Why not say Arthur yes?” He grunted in your ear. His raspy voice caused an earthquake in your whole being — it shook you so strongly that your legs were now trembling, ready to give up under your weight. Your lips parted to say something but words got stuck in your throat as his hips pressed against yours to keep you trapped between the kitchen counter and his tall, lean body.

“I’m serious, we could get caught. And half of your family already distrust me so I’m pretty sure fucking in their kitchen won’t do me good.” You managed to say quickly before biting your lip, trapping its juicy flesh between your teeth.

“It will do good, love. Fookin’… Good…” His thumbs gently rubbed your perky nipples, which were already pointing through the thin white fabric of your dress. A feverish and liquored sigh escaped from his lips, as he started moving his hips against the sinful curve of your butt cheeks, “I crave you so much Heaven, ” he paused his sentence to lay myriads of hungry kisses on your neck, “You make me lose me bloody mind…” An excruciating heat pooled in his body, so insufferable he could have ripped his skin apart. Arthur growled again at the overwhelming sensation of lava flowing through his veins

— “I. Need. Ya.”

You don’t understand. He did not only want you, he needed you.

You were his missing half, and he could only feel complete with you.

You were his light, and he could only find a way out of the darkness if you were here.

You were his saving grace, his redemption.

You were his breath, his blood, his heart.

You. You. You. You.

There was only you.

You could not help but moan in a frail and aroused whine: his hands had left your breasts to travel everywhere they could on your body, almost a bit too eagerly for you to keep up with what was happening. At that point you had to hold onto the counter, nails digging into its worn wood.

“Arthur.” You whispered, eyes closed and head down. As the arousal building within almost suffocated you, Arthur kept invading your pale and fragile flesh with both his daring hands and mouth. You whimpered at the pinching sensation of his teeth that had just bit the base of your neck. You were usually not timid when it came to sex, but not when the family of your man was taking the tea in the room that was right behind the door. But Arthur could not care less about getting caught. All he wanted was a taste of his angel.

He was everywhere — on every inch of your body, his lips kissing and biting. His hands rubbing and grabbing. He was overwhelming your senses with his unquenchable need to touch you again and again. And how good it felt to be desired as he did.

To be desired "À la Folie".

“Say you want me, eh. I wanna hear it.” The gravel in his voice sent tremors in your belly. You exhaled, your breath shaky, for one of his hands had just lifted your dress. Doing so, he disclosed your garters and the beautiful lace panties you were wearing. The fear of getting caught was still pounding in your chest, but the way he touched you was too good to resist. You gave in, ready to pay the consequences.

“I want you Arthur, “ You finally admitted, your lips stretching in a smirk, “ I want you,” You repeated, arching your back and spreading your legs to show how eager you were to feel him inside you, “Only you.” You had uttered the last two words with such tenderness, such a comforting tone, that you felt him smile against your neck. His mustache was tickling you at each word, each movement, which only contributed to the hurricane of sensations and feelings he provoked within your soul. Right next to you, the teapot had started to let out a faint and continuous whistle as the water boiled inside. At one point you were convinced it was not the kettle, but your scorching desire that made such a sound.

With one skillful movement, Arthur’s fingers shifted your soaked panties to the side and he unbuckled his belt with his other hand.

“Please…” You bent over the counter and begged, for the clothes that separated your bodies had become a far too heavy burden to bear. The only moment you felt a twinge of satisfaction was when his hard shaft pressed against your dripping pussy.

“Bloody hell, woman.” He grunted, his voice raspier than it usually was, as your delightful warmth and wetness welcomed him.

Arthur grabbed your hips fiercely and, unable to wait any longer, sunk into you in one slow but determined trust. A gravel moan, far from being discreet, echoed in the kitchen at the dizzying sensation of your warmth swallowing him. Struck by a moment of clarity, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your whimpers of pleasure. Stars dangled behind your closed eyelids, along with the melody of beating hearts and snapping flesh. In that risky situation, you were both well aware it was not time for a languid and intimate moment, but rather for a quick and torrid fuck. Hence, Arthur started to pound you with a fierce and quick pace as soon as you had adjusted to his size. Your legs quivered even more for his cock was thick, so thick your walls were stretched all around him.

“So… Tight…” He stuttered, breathless.

“Oh my — Arthur, Arthur!” You chanted, as a poor sinful soul chanting for God to set her free. The way his name melt on your tongue only made his thrusts rougher, for he loved how it sounded in your mouth. Especially with that adorable French accent of yours. There, with his cock buried deep in your heavenly cunt, he felt like a proud man — not some kind of rabid animal, or a lonely lunatic anymore. He just felt like a good man, giving pleasure to his good and beautiful little wife.

His pulse quickened. His pupils dilated, and you felt him going faster. Muffling your screams, you lost yourself in a fire of lust. You were not you anymore, but a wet mess of desire.

The pleasure you were giving him sent a shot of dopamine through his brain. Arthur threw his head back, grunting louder, and let his whole being sink in the high you were causing him “So — good. Yer so good, Angel. Keep pleasing your ol’ Arthur, will ye?” His hips jerked for he felt his climax coming. Yet, Arthur put his own pleasure on the back burner, refusing to come if you did not. He kept fucking you on the counter and slipped one of his hands between your legs to rub his fingers against your swollen clit. This time it was too much to handle: your walls clenched around him and you froze, all your muscles tensing at once. A cry of release would have echoed in the kitchen if you had not choked it with your hand. A tsunami of pleasure crashed against your bones, leaving you panting and shaking like a leaf, still bent over the kitchen counter with your dress lift and Arthur deep inside you.

As you cum, your glistening love juice dripping along his shaft, Arthur allowed his own pleasure to overflow. He slammed his hips one last time against yours -- his cock throbbed, at the edge of climax. But as much as he wanted to fill you with his semen, he still gathered all his remaining will to pull out in extremis.

You sighed with ecstasy when warm and milky ropes of cum rained down on your ass.

“Aah yes, love.” Arthur’s hoarse moan echoed in the kitchen. How long did you stay there? You could not tell, for you were still dizzy with the orgasm he had just given you. Arthur slowly came back to his senses, the fog of pleasure in his brain evaporating.

"We should get back to the living room, eh."

That was at this moment of intense relaxation, the two of you catching your breath and sharing post-sex smiles, that the door slammed open.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your heart missed a beat. In one movement, Arthur pulled up his pants while you strengthened up and smoothed the folds of your dress before turning to the newcomer.

“Fuck off Tommy. Can’t you knock?!”

“This is no bedroom. I don’t need to knock because I am not supposed to find anyone having sex here.” A freezing and quiet voice, also blessed with a seductive and hoarse tone, retorted.

The infamous Thomas Shelby stood in front of you, arms crossed in his back and cold blue eyes staring at you. If you had the ability to disappear right on the spot you would have used it without hesitation. Yet, you remained silent, slightly hidden behind Arthur who ran his hands through his hair to slick back the rebel strands that had fallen on each side of his face. The older Shelby quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue before talking.

“Erm, can I help ya Tommy?” He asked, still panting from your quick but intense fuck. You took advantage of their conversation to wipe the sweat from your forehead and briefly redo your hair.

“I am afraid you can’t, brother. However, I am pretty sure you charming woman can. I’d like to talk to her if she allows me to.”

You frowned. Why the hell did he want to talk to you in private?

Arthur nodded and wrapped your shoulders with one protective arm, his surprised expression turning into a smile. He could not wait to introduce you to his little brother, filled with pride at the idea of showing him his magnificent woman. It was important to him — even though he would have preferred him not to meet her in these conditions — “Of course, I've been waiting to…”

“Without you.” Tommy cut him off, and his words broke Arthur’s dawning grin. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions you just had, you could not help but open your mouth.

“He’s your older brother. He has every right to remain here while we talk, hasn’t he?” You argued, unhappy with the way Thomas Shelby acted. Arthur had waited the whole afternoon for Tommy to come so that he could introduce you to him, and when his little brother finally ought to show up he sent him off. That was painful to watch, “or if you really want to talk to me in private I think you might ask politely.”

A heavy silence fell in the room. How dare you speak to him with that arrogant tone? He thought. Tommy inhaled through his nose slowly, and moistened his lips, “Well, Arthur would you please leave me and your charming lady alone for two minutes?” He reiterated with a more polite phrasing. In spite of his unshaken placidity, his bleak winter eyes were looking daggers at you. He had certainly killed you at least three times in his mind. Slightly confused, Arthur looked at you, then at Tommy, before nodding, “Right,” he mumbled, his eyes fleeing his brothers’. He kissed your cheek and reluctantly left the kitchen, already aching from your absence.

You sighed, wondering what was going to happen now that you were all alone with the fearless Peaky Blinders’ boss everyone was talking about. Rather than starting the conversation, you took a cigarette from the small silver case that was on the counter and slipped it between your full lips, still swollen from the countless times you had bit them when you and Arthur had sex. Thomas Shelby remained silent too— all he did was walk to you, his soles hammering the floor, and lit up your cigarette with his zippo. But you were not fooled by his gentlemanly appearance nor by his undeniable charm. You took a puff from your cigarette until the tip ignited, and you stepped back from him as quickly as you could. Contrary to what people could think when watching Arthur and you, you did not like people entering your personal space without an invitation.

“I’ll go straight to the point, Miss Lavey. How much do you want?” He asked, his low and quiet voice undisrupted by the slightest emotions. While Arthur was made of fire, Thomas Shelby was surely made of ice.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brows furrowed , for you had not understand what he meant.

“How much money do you want to leave my brother?”

His words were so violent, so unexpected, that you were unsure if he had just slapped you across the face or not. Your mind started to buzz, its gears creaking and tinting as you tried not to burst out in anger at such an indecent suggestion. Against all his expectations, your innocent pout turned to the most freezing expression he had ever seen on a woman.

“To Hell with your money. I don’t know what you're trying to do but I won’t leave him. Why would I, eh?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” He retorted as soon as you had finished your sentence. Thomas quickly rubbed his cigarette on his lower lip and lit it. White smoke came out from his nostrils as he stared at you, like an angry dragon gazing upon the last breath of his future meal. “When I learned for you and Arthur I decided to send some of my guys to investigate on you. They told me every bloody thing,” He emphasized each syllable, almost baring his teeth doing so for you to understand he was not joking — in case you doubt it, “ I know you come from that small town in the French Alps. I know about the witch hunt that took place there and all the women who have been tortured and burned. But more than that, I know that you managed to escape right before they tied you to the pyre. And I also know about the story of the five poor villagers who have been hunted and killed like animals — it was you, right?” Tommy exhaled another cloud of smoke, his eyes never losing their focus on you.

“— And?” You gritted through your teeth, hatred blooming in your heart at the mention of these traumatizing memories. However, you did not let it show, for you knew it would please him. Thomas Shelby was well aware of the threatening aura that emanated from him, and how to use it for his own benefit. If you displayed any sign of fear or anger, it would be over and he would win. And somehow you were not particularly afraid of him.

He might had blood on his hands but you did too.

“And I will not tolerate a witch and a murderer around this family, nor will I let you take advantage of Arthur and ruin him.”

“Now you’re worried for Arthur. Isn’t it a bit too late?” You said, all the traits of your doll-like face suddenly devoid of any emotion, except a slight shade of unsettling arrogance, “You throw away his meds, you send him off when he asks you for help — when he tells you he’s desperate.” You stubbed your cigarette out in the nearest ashtray, “You didn’t even help him when he was ruining himself with cocaine. But that’s not it.” You walk toward Tommy, reducing the distance between you and him with unstoppable steps until you were standing a few inches from him. You raised your head to look at his arctic blue eyes, “He tried to kill himself and all you did was wave it off at best and treat him like a child at worst. Now let me ask you something, Thomas Shelby. Who’s the one who uses his own brother as his combat dog? And who’s the one who closes his eyes on his problems until they are insufferable enough for him to attempt suicide?”

Thomas clenched his jaws, his gaze hardening. He had to admit you had guts for a frail creature he could have broken in half with his bare hands. You were such a small yet fierce woman, it almost unsettled him. Moreover, you were smart, and smart was dangerous.

“So, don’t ever say I am the one who will manipulate and ruin Arthur when you do it on a daily basis. I love your brother, and whether you like it or not I’ll stay by his side.”

He rolled his eyes. The conversation was slowly but surely getting on his nerves, “Listen, I don’t need another Linda. She almost turned him into her dog and yet he was barely half in love with her compared to what he feels for you. Look at him! Look at fucking Arthur Shelby! He would throw himself out of London Bridge if you’d ask him to do so. She already tried to change him and took him away from this family, so don’t think I am naive enough to believe in your so-called love and kindness.”

“I ain’t gonna change shit. I am well aware of his demons, well aware of what he is but that's okay, I accept him the way he is. All I want is to see him healed and happy. No matter if he wants to keep killing people for your business. Sky could break loose I won’t give a damn as long as he feels better.”

Another silence. Thomas was trying hard to decipher your intentions but he could not probe your far-too-unique eyes. His brows furrowed; it was the first instance of emotions you had seen on his face since the beginning of your not-so-cordial conversation.

“You’re a bad omen, Heaven. I can feel it.”

“Why dear? Do you see a sapphire in my eyes?”

A rush of thunderous rage ran through his veins — how could you mention Grace's death? A gleam of violence ignited Thomas's eyes, who suddenly grabbed your throat without any warning sign. His strong and large hand tightened around your fragile neck and pressed against your windpipe enough for you to give you trouble breathing. You tried to talk but nothing came out, words choked under his palm. The pressure was not enough to really choke you, but it was still painful. With eyes wide opened in surprise, you wrapped your own fingers around his wrist and clawed his flesh in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grip, but Thomas did not falter. Quite the contrary, the more you struggled the more he closed his fist around you.

“Don’t ever disrespect Grace anymore!” He gritted through his teeth, “You want to stay by Arthur’s side? Fine. So here's the plan: you’re going to be a good little wife for him and you won’t cause any trouble, nor interfere with my business. You’re going to do the best you could to make him happy and you’ll take care of him. You'll want him even when he’ll go back home wasted, yelling at you and breaking things because he will ultimately do it,” He paused, his eyes falling on the pale flesh of your throat he was still holding. The expression on his face changed for one brief second as he started to caress your neck with his thumb, almost too tenderly to be completely devoided of any kind of attraction, “but let me set this straight: if you ever try to leave him, if you become an inconvenience or if any member of my family is hurt because of your cursed being… I’ll burn you in a field like the witch you are.”

He finally released your throat and looked at the scratches you inflicted on his wrist. As you inhaled loudly, Thomas rolled down the sleeve of his shirt to hide the red and thin cuts your nails had left on his skin. He did not even bother checking on you.

“Let’s go back to the living room. And wear your most beautiful smile.” He stated with his usual cold demeanor, watching you rub your sore throat. Then, he offered you his arm to keep up appearances. You reluctantly accepted and followed him out of the kitchen, still shaken by the conversation —

The whole family, freshly joined by Michael Gray, was chatting together, all scattered here and there in the living room. Arthur, a hip flask filled with whisky in one hand, got up from his chair as soon as he saw you. At first, you thought he suspected something but the truth was that Thomas was insanely clever and he took care not to leave any bruise on your delicate skin. And when it came to hiding things, he was certainly the best. Even better than you. Tommy finally released you from his grip so that you could come back to his older brother, then he poured some whisky into a glass for him.

“Well Arthur, congratulations. You’ve brought a stunning and lovely lady into that house. I guess we could welcome her in the family, since she made our good ol’ Arthur happy, eh.”

He rose his glass to you, his threatening blue eyes staring right at your soul.

“Welcome, Heaven. Hope you'll stay with us for a while.” He said, pretending nothing had happened.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Also, the third first parts of this series can be read as stand-alone but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interest: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid

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protectingtulpas · 9 months ago

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So I just got sent that pretty iconic "anti-tulpa" document and I think it's pretty damn funny that a lot of those sources, if you actually READ them, are neutral or even supportive lmfao.

Like for this one? This is straight up pro-, and is just explaining that "tulpamancy" isn't the original concept and that it's based on other practices. Congrats, you're making our fucking point for us!

This next one is pretty interesting also. I wanna highlight some stuff from it, from both the op and comments.

Let's talk about my existence in contrast to some of these statements. The first one is "The biggest, most dangerous form of evil in Buddhist thought is "ego" or self-grasping. If ANY mental phenomena increases your self-cherishing attitudes (self importance, grandiosity, jealousness, craving, hatred, self-loathing, self-absorption etc) it's evil. IF a mental phenomena causes greater flexibility, less attachment, more tranquil emotions, less mental chatter/discursive thinking, increased generosity and compassion toward others, higher mental clarity etc.--that's good." And the second one is "If it increases negative emotions, it's not Dharma. If it decreases negative emotions, it's Dharma." So these are great for some people, but that mentality of not allowing "self-cherishing attitudes" can be EXTREMELY HARMFUL FOR SYSTEMS and ANYONE with self worth issues. A lot of this is contradictory for a lot of people. Something can both decrease negative emotions and make you feel connected to yourself. Nobody has the right to make us feel any less like ourselves - normally you can believe whatever you want for yourself, obviously, but pushing it onto other ppls' lives aint cool. The implication that we're straight up DANGEROUS just for existing is insulting to created systems regardless of whether you're using the word tulpa or not.

The reply to that by @/eeveecraft is great, and this part describes how weird that is in the context of headmates' identities here. "Furthermore, really don't like how you downplayed tulpas as property there, buddy. Tulpas are not property, they are people in every sense of the word, and I don't [give a] flying fuck about whatever complications that for your beliefs. My systemmates are people, full stop. I was already able to tell since you refer to your own systemmates as "imaginary friends," which a lot of tulpas aren't okay with being called that because that implies that they're fake. They are NOT lesser because they're not created by ancient monks or whatever.

"Like, seriously: "They would be considered "as real as you and me," with their own likes and dislikes etc," because apparently, modern tulpas don't have likes and dislikes and their hosts just see them as delusions? Say that to my tulpa, Arcanus who adores coffee while the smell makes me nauseous, say that to my systemmates who switch with me and have their own hobbies. Also, tulpas are more than just personalities. They have their own experiences, skills, preferences, dreams, memories, thoughts, a person is more than just their personality, and I thought a "licensed psychotherapist" would know that, especially if they have systemmates of their own." Make sure to read the full comment tho cuz it's a good takedown, it's not just about that it goes thru the entire thing.

SO! If anybody actually wants a well-studied paper outlining everything, check out Tracking the Tulpa: Exploring the "Tibetan" Origins of a Contemporary Paranormal Idea by Natasha L. Mikles and Joseph P. Laycock. It goes into a lot more of an accurate and in-depth history on the subject, and the bibliography ACTUALLY shows where things come from.

All that document showed us was that Buddhists are a wide community with a variety of different people with different skill levels, understandings, and opinions. And that we need to ditch the fantastical, impossible representation of the tulpa in supernatural media because that's ACTIVELY harming people. Which is what we want to show people! So congrats!

#im not linking it cuz its cherry picked as hell #but if youve been here a while you know what it is #if you want the document shoot me a message #that shit needs to stop circulating #syscourse #tulpacourse

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yuripides · 1 year ago

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Augh fuck ok so, I was just listening to Want You Gone and I realized something. There’s a very real possibility that GLaDOS isn’t in denial about liking Chell and caring about her and her act of sending Chell away could be out of that very care.

So throughout the song GLaDOS does say stuff like “go make some new disaster, you’re someone else’s problem now” and of course “now I only want you gone” and all this time we’ve been quite logically reading “I used to want you dead but now I only want you gone” as an “I don’t hate you as much anymore and killing you is basically impossible and you cause too much trouble for me to try anymore” but… GLaDOS still pulls back Chell at the end of Portal 2. She doesn’t let Chell die. Sure we can say that that was Caroline because the facility deletes Caroline later, but in the ending song GLaDOS says “now little Caroline lives in me too”, so she’s clearly still in there somewhere and makes up a fundamental part of who GLaDOS is.

Now I mentioned all that to segue into this next part. Do you think if GLaDOS just “hated Chell less” she would have organized an entire choir and orchestra out of turrets for her to listen to as she left the facility? Do you think she would have given her a companion cube, the thing that’s been a symbol for the human emotion of caring throughout the series with even players being attached to it sometimes?

Let that sit on your mind for a second.

Portal 2 has a second story-driven gamemode. The co-op. In the co-op you play as Atlas and P-body, two robots who GLaDOS put in place for testing in the absence of Chell. Now we see that these robots can’t really die, possibly in-canon as they respawn in the co-op as long as one of them is still alive. Unlike humans, these robots can’t come to permanent harm.

At the end of the coop, the two robots find the room where the crow’s made a nest. They manage to get the crow out of the facility, but find the eggs it’s laid. At first GLaDOS is horrified but then decides to take the eggs and raise the chicks herself. Of course she does this in her own way of trying to see them as dangerous “killing machines” but before she switches to that, she even names two of them “Marshmallow” and “Mr. Chubbybeak”. As dangerous as she is GLaDOS has a heart and some kind of caring instinct.

That’s not the only thing those two find at the end of the coop. They also find an entire untouched wing full of humans in cryosleep. GLaDOS wakes them up, puts them to testing.. and “depletes” the entire test subject supply in a few days.

Now, as we know by this point this isn’t exactly her fault. It’s the facility that instills “the itch”, the drive to test and experiment regardless of the consequences, as long as the facility itself is intact. And she knows that very well.

And in the end, I think that’s why she sends Chell away. Not out of hate, but out of care and love. In that brief time of freedom from the facility and the itch she gets, she realizes she does care. “I used to want you dead but now I only want you gone.” GLaDOS wants Chell gone because she knows that despite how much she wants Chell to stay with her, Chell will be happier in the outside world, and if she stays in the facility she will eventually come to harm.

“Want You Gone” is GLaDOS trying to intentionally deny that she cares so she doesn’t get hurt. In her own words,

“Goodbye my only friend…

Oh did you think I meant you?

That would be funny,

If it weren’t so sad.

Well, you have been replaced.

I don’t need anyone now!

When I delete you

Maybe I’ll stop feeling so bad…”

#portal #portal 2 #glados #chell portal

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take-everything-you-can · 2 years ago

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Yours Or Mine

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: So first let me just say it has been years since I've been inspired to write smut, but alas Eddie Munson has opened the floodgates. This will be the first installment of many to come as a sort of kink exploration series for Eddie and Reader. I just felt like the year anniversary of all of us loving this man would be the perfect time to post this!

I was so nervous to post this but I've had some amazing people in my corner. @astragreenwoode Thank you so much for everything that you do in editing my stories helping them flow effortlessly. I'm blessed to have you.

To the ever-so-lovely ladies @big-ope-vibes, @bimbobaggins69, and @munsonswife for beta reading and making me feel like posting this wasn't going to be the worst idea on the planet and letting me talk through my anxieties and slutty little Eddie thots.

also can't get over this amazing divider by @newlips

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem Reader ( Established relationship)

Word count: 3.9K

Tw: 18+ mdni (if you are underage gtfo this post .... seriously get lost) crude language, f receiving, m receiving, p in v sex unprotected ( pls use protection my people), subby switch if you squint, shower sex, needy Eddie I suppose, slight ball play, some soft dom Eddie

College ended up being harsher than you expected, but the full ride for the Cheerleading scholarship the school had given you was more than worth all the trouble you had to keep your grades up. You proudly proved to everyone that the whole ‘all cheerleaders are dumb’ stereotype was just that; an unfounded myth meant to diminish all those involved. After working your ass off throughout High School, you ended up picking one not too far from home. Having to care for your other six siblings alone was enough to drive your parents insane, so the fact that you were willing to make the commute made you an angel in their eyes.

Today ended up being especially exciting for two reasons; cheer practice would be held at your old high school, which also meant you were able to spend time with your beloved metalhead of a boyfriend. Your coach ended up dragging out practice to be longer and harsher than usual with seemingly endless drills and unnecessarily cruel critiques of your performance. It was a punishment for being late.

Usually, that was something that would’ve set you off, but if you were being totally honest, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You welcomed it as a distraction for why exactly you came to practice so late. It was for a good reason, you swear; Eddie decided to take you on a ‘Side Quest,’ as he put it.

He took you on a small detour; pulling you into the nearest supply closet, out of the crowded hallway, and getting his hands on you as soon as possible. Almost as soon as he closed the door behind you, he used all his strength to pin you against the wood of the door. You giggled as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, leaving a torturously slow trail of pecks and nips up your jaw. He hungrily stopped at your lips, gently tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Eddie. . .” you breathed out, trying your best to compose yourself as he dragged his hand from your cheek to the curve of your cleavage rising and falling with your heartbeat beneath your uniform. “We. . .we can’t do this right now, baby. I’m gonna be late. You’re gonna be late.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as the cold contrast of his rings on your bare cleavage made your body break out in goosebumps. His deep brown orbs started to darken as they threatened to pull you in and never let you go. As much as you wanted to just lean in and forget about the rest of the world outside this closet, you mustered all your strength to stop him from going forward. You giggled as you placed a hand on either side of his face, bringing his head up to make your lips touch.

“Later, Sweet Boy. I’ll still be here after practice, okay?” you whispered.

A small groan sounded from the back of Eddie’s throat; an incredibly needy sound as he pressed his forehead against yours. Even as he held onto you and batted his doe-like eyes to hypnotize you into staying, he didn’t go any further. He may be relentless, but he respects you.

“Ya promise?” he whined against your mouth.

You hummed in agreement, blindly dragging your hand around to find him as you hooked your pinkies together. He savored the kiss as long as you let him before you left the small room, wanting to imprint it in your minds to give both of you something to look forward to after you were finished with practice.

Around the time your team finished and made their way to the girl’s locker room, Eddie was fresh out of his latest session with the boys from Hellfire. You were the last one to take a shower as the other girls left, planning on meeting up with Eddie where he usually parked his van just like you did every Friday. But he had other plans today, ones that couldn’t wait any longer. As he watched the remaining members of Hellfire and the other members of your team leave the school parking lot, Eddie snuck back into the building to make sure you kept your earlier promise.

The Dungeon Master shamelessly walked into the girl’s locker room and his eyes locked on you as you were just peeling off the sweat-soaked cheer uniform. Every inch of you was flushed in tone; the bottom of your hair damp and your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat as you let your top fall to the floor. You let out a soft moan as you freed your sticky breasts from the confines of your bra. It was familiar to him; the same one he had thrown into the corner of your bedroom as he relentlessly took you to your peak just a few nights ago.

He debated on just staying there, watching you clean your body, but the twitch in his pants he got just from the sight of you told him otherwise. Eddie craved to get a taste of your salty, flushed skin before you had the chance to wipe yourself clean. He was never able to hold out from touching you for long, no matter how hard he had tried in the past. You were just as magnetic as the day he met you. What was it that people said? ‘Opposites Attract?’

Eddie leaned himself against the set of lockers closest to the showers, crossing his arms against his chest as he cleared his throat to capture your attention.

You jumped in shock as you let out a quiet squeak. Instinctually, you used your arms to cover your chest as you turned around, not expecting anyone to be in here with you, especially not Eddie. But at the sight of him, you lowered your arms and sighed in relief but you rolled your eyes a bit. He was supposed to be cleaning out his van. He had told you it was trashed by the boys after a gig at The Hideout and said he would make sure the passenger side was clean before letting you ride in it this morning over the phone. He now stood before you, a gleam of awe in his eyes.

“See something you like, Munson?” you laughed out, turning so that you were innocently looking over your shoulder and gave him a little shake of your ass that made your cheer skirt follow.

The smirk on his face deepened and made his dimples stand more prominent on his face; it was a look he reserved just for you. He pushed himself off the lockers and slowly but surely made his way toward you.

“I sure do like what I see. But. . .you look like you could use a hand there, Sweetheart,” he purred, sticking his tongue out slightly between his teeth.

“Oh, really?” you teased, meandering your way over to meet him in the middle. He took your hand in his and allowed him to twirl you like you were waltzing, making the short little skirt that adorned your body send him into a trance. You watched his eyes size you up, trailing down from your head to your feet as you gripped the side of your skirt in frustration. How long was he going to take before holding you up on your promise?

“Yeah. . .what’s that old saying? ‘Reach out to lend a hand. . .not to bend the heart,’ or however the fuck it goes?” Eddie slithers his arms around your waist to pull your bare body flush against his clothed form, tilting his head as he gave your nose a small peck. He teasingly kissed either side of your mouth, before pulling you in to crash them against his.

“Fucking finally,” you thought to yourself; though, the heat in your belly only grew hotter now.

“Would you bend my heart, Eddie?” you whispered against his lips, almost as if telling him a secret.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess. . .” he muttered back against you. As he made your heart flutter when his hands buried in the roots of your hair, Eddie twisted and turned your body around to bring your ass against his growing bulge. He pushed you against the shower's wall and made you arch your back, rough and gentle all at once.

“Now. . .bending you over, on the other hand. . .” he growled into your ear, sending a shiver straight down to your core as he lifted your skirt to reveal your pussy and ass practically swallowing your panties.

“That’s a whole ‘nother thing,” Eddie finished, giving your bare ass a tender slap that made you whine and jump.

The giggle that leaves you turns into a moan as he unwrapped his hand from your damp hair and tilted your head to mash his lips against yours once more. As he turns you around, the cold tile meets your back. Playing with the hem of his shirt before sliding your hand underneath it, you ghost over the trail of hair that led to the bulge in his pants now throbbing with desire.

As you walk your fingers up his chest with a feather-light touch, you blindly trail over his tattoos engraved in your memory. You had spent many of your shared hours together tracing over the black lines etched into Eddie’s skin. On your laziest of days together, he used your body as a blank canvas to paint your skin a masterpiece of his own, purples and pinks staining your skin for days to come.

Smirking with mischief, you let your hand travel down to tease his cock by cupping him through his pants ever so slightly.

“. . .fuck,” Eddie stutters out, making you whine as he unlocks your lips. “I need to taste you... .now,” he spoke, his tone dangerously laced with need.

Eddie tugs you to sit on the small bench below the showerhead, lowering himself to his knees as he pulls your skirt and panties down. Gripping each thigh, he jerks you slightly forward to get a better angle before burying his face in between your legs. He kneads the soft meat of your thighs on either side, leaving small bruises in the shape of his fingertips and the tender marks of his teeth. Looking up at you with lust-blown eyes, he waits for your permission to continue, Once you give him the knowing nod of your head, he slows down as he notices just how drenched your pussy really is.

“Mmmm, such a pretty little pussy,” he mutters against you, torturously dragging his mouth everywhere but where you needed him to be.

“Tight, juicy, and all mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You gasp as you wait for him to touch you, frantically nodding. But that wasn’t enough; not for him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs against the skin of your thigh. “I couldn’t hear you, Sweetheart. What did you just say?”

You simultaneously whined and groaned with frustration.

“Yes,” you gasped. “It’s yours, Eddie. It’s your pussy. Now, please, please just fuck me.”

“Such a desperate little slut. I’m right here, baby. ‘M not going anywhere. Not when I have such a tasty little snack on a silver platter right in front of me.”

You want nothing more at that moment than to tell him to shut the hell up and stop playing with his food. But before you can utter a word, he cuts you off by flattening his tongue against you. He licks up your arousal from the bottom of your opening to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves for a little while before wrapping his lips around it. You swear to God that Eddie’s trying to destroy you, to somehow devour your soul as he does the same to your pussy. Everything he does to you drives you crazy; severs your train of thought from its track. All that’s swirling around in your mind is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The sound of his tongue lapping up your slick and sliding through your folds coaxed a moan out of you that echoes off the tiled walls of the locker room. It feeds Eddie’s ego full as he moans against your soaking mound, the vibrations of his hums igniting the fire in you and sending the flames higher and higher. As your legs quiver at the intensity and the coil in your stomach starts to loom, he pushes his hands against your thighs to keep you from slipping off the bench and against the wall. You dig your hands into the roots of his dark curls, earning another hum of appreciation before detaching his lips from you to circle his tongue around your clit again.

Eddie looks up at you with a coy smile and hazy eyes, the mixture of your arousal and his spit dripping down his chin as he latches his mouth around you again. He effortlessly slides his finger in and out of you. The sinful slurping sounds that fill the air send waves of phantom pleasure washing over you. It felt something akin to a dream; déjà vu. You gasp as Eddie slips a second finger into you, the cool metal of his rings bumping against your entrance making your pussy flutter around him at the unexpected contrast.

“Shhiiitt, you’re takin’ my fingers so well, Sweetheart. Can’t wait to have that tight little pussy wrapped around me,” he purred against your clit as he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. He can tell by your breath and the way you tremble beneath his mouth that you’re about to snap. It encouraged him to frantically pick up the pace of his fingers and playfully shake his head back against your clit, bringing you over the edge and sending your body into pure bliss.

Eddie wasted no time drinking up all that released from you, licking up every drop from between the lips of your pussy to where it was caked on the inside of your thighs. It was ambrosia on his tongue, salty sweat and musk mixed with his spit and your release. He was so glad he decided to stop you from showering when he did; you wouldn’t have ended up tasting nearly as good as you did now.

The fog from your mind started to clear as you come back down to earth again, Your breathing returned to normal again after Eddie lowered your thighs back onto his shoulders. He snuggles himself into the embrace of your legs, leaning his cheek into your palm that traveled down from his hair.

"Well I'd say you definitely lent a helping hand, but now it's my turn pretty boy." He laughs as he brings his fingers to your mouth, pressing them past your teeth and letting them settle, as you suck your arousal off of him. Moaning through closed eyes basking in the reminder of how Eddie made you feel on top of the world, you were gonna return the favor.

He had always adored when you would get that look in your eyes after making you cum. Your eyes would get a bit glassy and your lids would draw almost as if fighting sleep. No, you weren't fighting to sleep, you were just turning the cogs trying to figure out how you were going to please your man. You had turned the shower on to the hottest it would go, never reaching past a lukewarm. If Hawkins was one thing it was never efficient.

“ I don’t think it’s very fair that I have to be naked and you get to be fully clothed. I think we need to fix that.” he took a tendril of hair that had fallen into your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“Well if you still have the ability to think straight I don't think I've done my job right princess.” He pulls the shirt from the nape of his neck up and over his head and tosses it towards the pile you had started on the tile floor. Before he can reach for them you are already lowering yourself to your knees as your hands unbutton his jeans and slip his zipper down slowly looking up at him through your lashes.

“ Fuck me, man.” It comes out breathy and hitched as you tug his jeans and boxers to his ankles. Watching as his dick springs from the second tug down, smacking his stomach as his precum leaves a mess making your mouth water, a reflex making you bite down so hard on your bottom lip you swear you can taste the metallic trickle of blood. He kicks his pants to the side as he takes a seat on the bench you were on not long ago.

The tile was biting into your knees but you had been through worse trying to suck Eddie off, Skull Rock had a particularly awful patch of prickly trees that Eddie just loves to stand beneath. Looking up at him now he had nothing but love for you in those eyes.

His breathing hitches as you lick the mess off his stomach, mixing it on your tongue as you let a glob of drool drop to the tip of his dick as you take your hand and rub it along his shaft. The size of him always had your thighs clenching. He was length and girth in all the right places. The thought of him filling you had your arousal dripping onto the tile below you. You lowered your head taking Eddie into your mouth swirling your tongue around his tip and across his slit as he clutched a fist into your hair as you began to bob up and down a perfect rhythm you had found he fell for.

“ Holy shit, Baby, Just like that, yes fuuuck, Just like that .” His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes closed as the water from the shower mist hit his chest rolling down his flexed stomach, cooling the heat that was rising within him. You could see a small thank you on his lips as he held out his breath feeling you take him to his hilt and hearing the sound of your throat gag against him, the vibrations of the moan sending a shiver down his spine.

You had slipped off of his length and licked down to the sack underneath, hands working along as you found your way. A small whimper from Eddie as you took one of his balls into your mouth and sucked along the skin feeling the weight of his need making you moan and Eddie's grip on your hair tightened. He pulled up off of him with a wet pop, his balls were extremely sensitive. A lesson you learned on a rainy day in May as your boardroom hit rock bottom and Eddie had looked like a god coming out of the shower. Letting the spit fall as your hands continuously worked their way up and down his length.

“ Come on honey Please.” you let out a giggle, one that made him grip your hair hard, pulling back until you were face to face with him.

“ Who's desperate now?” Instead of words, you knew he would make you pay for laughing at his plea. Standing fast as he bent you over again just as he did when you first started this little act except this time he brutally slammed his cock straight into you. A whine ripped through you gasping for air around his moans. They were muffled against your skin bending with you as you found a grip on the wall in front of you as the water made everything around you slick.

Once your hold was solid his grip on your hips let you know his pace was about to be fast and rough. Slamming into you over and over the sounds of his balls slapping against the arousal that was dripping from you and echoing off the walls. The dirty thoughts of how anyone could walk in at any moment to check and make sure that someone was not in any harm, and would instead find you a moaning mess, getting railed in the best way by the freak of Hawkins High. A freak he was indeed. You look at your wrist and see the light bruises he had left not long ago from some handcuffs and his headboard. This then led you to another thought of how he had used those handcuffs in the hideout one night after a long show, a night where he had promised to lock up for the owner but instead, he had you cuffed to a wall and set up on his amp as he played riffs through your orgasms. He had recorded some little tapes for himself. The breathless gruff in his voice brought you back to now.

“ You in that pretty little head baby? You keep squeezing the fuck out of me with that tight pussy of yours. What's got, you so bot-thered baby? Come on we got all weekend to fuck those thoughts out. Just let go, baby, just let go. Come on sweet thing.“

You can feel him closing in on his climax. The hitch in his pace is a telltale sign. You moan and mewl under him pushing back with more pressure as your own climax begins to build and hit that high.

“ No words hunny? Dick just that good hmm?” you nod as the coil snaps for the second time. Throwing your head back into his shoulder as you ride out your high.

“ Yes Eddie! God Yes! Always so good to me. Always. So. good. To. Me.” as you gush around him he thrust into you a few more times as the ropes of his pleasure begin to paint your walls. The grunts and moans of his release could make you come again just by the way he grips onto you, making sure that you are glued to him. Every single drop of him sealed within you.

He falls flush to you slipping out with a hiss and turns you in his arms as you both stand wrapped into each other's arms. He kisses your shoulder and the crook of your neck. You squish your face against the flat of his chest and the thick of his arm as you let your eyelids drift closed just reveling in the moment as the water washes over you both. He nudges your ear with his nose as you turn your face up to him he catches your lips in a hungry yet slow kiss, letting his forehead fall to yours.

“ You know I love you, pretty girl. You know that right?” you hum a satisfied tune into his mouth as you kiss him softly.

“ I love you more handsome.” he lets out a low laugh.

” Not possible .” bringing your face back to his chest.

“ Yes possible .” Then everything goes Dark. You can feel Eddie but you can’t see him. You conclude that a janitor had turned off the lights, thinking everyone had gone home for the night. Not the first time that it had happened and it would probably not be the last. But thankfully Eddie being Eddie knew exactly how to get you out, another time he would save you, your hero. Your freak, Your love.

#eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #hellcheer #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #fuck me up munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie fluff #soft dom eddie munson

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meikocean · 3 months ago

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My opinions on all main 6 d4dj units (part 2/3)

#4 Peaky P-key

Okay, so #4 and #3 can switch depending on my mood because I love both of them. I love Peaky P-key so much! The manga about how they formed was so cute. I also love how even though they’re shown as the popular rival unit in the First Mix anime, they’re all really kind to the members of Happy Around!!

Favorite characters: Yuka and Esora

Favorite song:

Favorite cards of each member:

#3- Lyrical Lily

They are so cute I love them so much!! I love their relationship with each other and with members outside their unit (my favorite being Saori + Miyu, not as a ship obviously). I love how chaotic Miiko and Kurumi are as well, they’re the silliest ever <3 And Haruna and Miyu’s relationship is amazing, while they’re a popular pairing I find them underrated compared to the other popular ships, especially seeing as they’re semi-canon.

Also they’re the reason I got into d4dj!! I saw they covered the School-Live op so I was like “okay I need this game”

Favorite character: Kurumi

Favorite song: (my favorite song in d4dj ever)

Favorite cards of each member:

#normally I try to keep my fav cards only have 1 from unit/relations sets (excluding sp sets)#but kurumiiko relations set is just too peak sorry #d4dj groovy mix #d4dj #peaky p key #peaky p-key #kyoko yamate #shinobu inuyose #yuka jennifer sasago #esora shimizu #lyrical lily #miyu sakurada #haruna kasuga #kurumi shiratori #miiko takeshita #Spotify

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badninken · 2 months ago

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You are so dedicated, I'm in awe... I gave up on one pieces anime bc it was soooooo slowwww and switched to manga... fast forward or not you deserve kudos for sticking it out!!!

There are supposed to be "episodes of" adaptations of arcs that repackage op arcs to be shorter and more manageable, or focusing on one character/their backstory. Cutting fishman island down into 4 eps for example. I've never seen them, but is very funny that apparently toei agreed the anime is way too unwieldy...

I did the same thing with Naruto but I hadn't started blogging about it at that time, because I felt like I couldn't enter the fandom before I had seen it all. It's kind of like that now, although I know I can, if I want to. I just want the full story before I start telling my own with art and analysis and I'm reeeeally looking forward to stop watching and start creating. Also I want to read fanfic without spoling everything and I'm impatient.

Also I'm not working right now and avoiding many scary feelings so it's very easy to stay in pirate fantasy world full time.

It really is fucking slow tho :P

#the line between dedication and sudden avoidance induced dopamine-chasing obsession is reeeeally thin here #as far as coping mechanisms go. it could be worse #one piece

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unsoundedcomic · 4 months ago

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Have you progressed with Lies of P so far? How are you liking it?

I haven't had time to play in a few days. Last session I beat the White Lady in the opera district and figured out that backstabs are a little OP. A few flank rolls until the red slash shows up, and you're gonna do a giant chunk of damage every time.

Overall I think it's a really solid game. Some of the systems are a little underbaked and unnecessary (the cube, the blade grinding, the coin fruits? the P-organ is needlessly convoluted) but other systems like the weapon system and parrying to break weapons is really fun. Also the bosses do a great job of making you play around with different weapons and thrown items. Like I was having problems with the rabbits until I realised I needed something a little longer range than my ooga booga wrench. I switched it up and was golden.

Nothing else is really interesting me. Characters, story, music, eh. The localization is not Fromsoft quality. Fantastic environments, kinda like playing Bioshock Souls. I think this'll be a game I enjoy mostly for the mechanics, and that's why I predict I'll probably keep playing through it until I have all the cheevos.

My friend told me a poison swamp is coming. Ah, Souls <3

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rocket-sith · 7 months ago

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I may or may not have been trying to use PokeGenie to take screenshots on P+ mobile. It didn't work, but it inspired this instead. I'm not sorry.

SEASON 1 & 2 STAR TREK PICARD CHARACTERS AS A POKEMON TEAM

The Meta team lead who makes a big mess with environmental hazards and then uses Baton Pass so everyone else has to deal with the fallout:

Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, of course. But how about the rest?

The counter-Meta pick with a moveset specifically designed to cover their own team's weaknesses while exploiting gaps in the opponent's defense. Can learn a wide variety of contact and non-contact TMs. Occasionally hurts self in own confusion:

The niche off-Meta sweeper with a bunch of left-field moves. Catches everyone off guard and lays absolute waste because nobody's ever seen one in battle before, nobody has one on their own team, and nobody knows how to counter any of this bullshit:

The Uber-tier revenge killer who's OP as fuck and everybody knows it, but is too much of a beloved icon for any of the Powers That Be to actually risk banning or nerfing, lest the entire fanbase ragequit and/or riot in the streets. Ends up getting a mega-evolution instead:

The unpredictable stall who won't decimate your team directly, but will drag shit out and make half your strategies backfire. Will lead you on a wild romp of increasingly furious button mashing by spamming status effects and using shit like Shell Smash and Follow Me for funsies. Can harm own teammates with recoil damage, but can also boost stats of allies in battle:

The seemingly-innocuous cute one who turns out to have a hidden ability and a rare item that activates when their HP gets low, and then all hell breaks loose:

GODDAMMIT HOW MANY DIFFERENT FORM CHANGES DO YOU FUCKING HAVE?!

The MF glitch from Cinnabar Island that somebody managed to sneak into the tournament when the refs weren't looking, and now your save file is screwed, your game is frozen, and the soundtrack is stuck on Lavender Town:

The obviously hacked 'mon with impossible moves, impossible stats, dubious typing, and no listing in the regional dex. Not allowed to enter the tournament and has to watch from the sidelines:

The Psychic-type Mythical hanging out in the background who gives you cool hints, potions, and sidequests:

Giovanni. Apparently somebody got bored selling Slowpoke tails and decided to switch up the inventory. Needs to fuck the entire hell off and take their mafia mad science lab with them. Probably doesn't have enough gym badges to capture their desired target anyway:

If you've got more, add 'em on! Gotta dex the whole region!

#star trek picard #Star trek memes #Star trek shitposting #Pokemon memes #pokemon shitpost #jean luc picard #raffi musiker #elnor #seven of nine #tallinn #soji asha #star trek q #guinan #Bjayzl #Picard's Pokedex #cristobal rios #la sirena

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autumn-foxfire · 7 months ago

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Guess what episode I am up to? You guessed it! The kaishin flashback episode!!! Time to see the (technically) first meeting between these fated two!

Jii telling Kaito he would never be able to face Toichi if his son ever got in too much trouble, not knowing his father is the one that has set his son up to do his job for him... Just your daily reminder to say fuck you to Kaito's parents! Jii, adopt him.

I love we get to see a proper insight into Kaito's personality in the DC verse.

And we also get to see how bad Gosho's romance has always been with Aoko and Kaito. A different type of terrible but still terrible (Aoko you can't just rip up other people's belongings). And sadly this was just mild of them.

Akako, you will be missed. This is probably the only time that the DC universe will allow you to be in it's series.

Don't insult Saguru like that, Nakamouri! He's more competant than you are <.<

Kaito: This heist is too easy.

Shinichi: Don't worry, it won't be soon.

Kaito wondering who is helping out the police T-T Don't worry, that's your future husband!

Nakamouri why are you assaulting a poor man who is just helping you out.

Oh how thematic for him to shoot the ace of spades, the symbol used often to represent his future husband.

Megure... you really just let a teenager swipe a gun off you and shoot it.

Gosho really believes you meet your soulmate at the age of 4 T-T Well, he was right about something, Kaito did meet the love of his life at that clock tower, it's just not with the character he wants us all to believe he did :p

Also can I just point out, again, how much Kaito and Aoko look like siblings here?

I don't want anyone, especially canon enjoyers, to say anything about Kaishin ever again.

Huh, we were left with subtle hints about the switch with Kogoro at the start by showing how much he smokes and having each shot of him driving in the OP showing him smoking.

Kaito nearly killed someone.

Saguru!! It's nice to finally meet you in the DC universe too!

This is why you don't buy expensive cars, some weirdo will just blow them up.

You guys are all just feeding Kaito's ego here.

Hakuba: We won't be killed by him but he will prank us (speaking from experience here, love)

Kaito: Damn, all you detectives are assholes, aren't you.

It's interesting that Renya, who we all know to be the big bad of this series, was introduced in what is technically a KID episode, though I think Gosho's said that went it comes to their criminal organizations, neither Shinichi or Kaito will be involved in helping each other.

Alelele~

Renya is not as dead as he wants everyone to believe, old lady.

Saguru being the only one prepared for escaping the place, just in case XD The boy who is always prepared.

...Okay, I'm not sure if this is just the subs but did Kaito just call both Shinichi and Saguru his lovers (that he doesn't want to meet but whatever I'm ignoring that part). Welp, I'm just taking that as proof for my ship :p (I guess those who ship Saguru and Kaito can too <.<).

#dcmk #foxy's dcmk commentary

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chilope · 7 months ago

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Curious: Is it chill-ope or chi-lopeh?

i think its the second one? but just in case we are pronouncing that differently, it is chill-oh-pay (it is a mispronounciation of chipotle, with the p and l switched and the t dropped, if that helps)

for background: i did team cooking competitions in highschool and one of the dishes we made had chipotles in it. my teammate for some reason could not for the life of him say chipotle, it would take 4 or 5 tries for him to get it out; instead he said chilopes. we all thought it was very funny so we started calling ourselves team chilope. and then when i made a tumblr account i couldnt think of a unique username so i went with chilope and it stuck :o)

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edgelessvoid · 3 months ago

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I'm late to this but who cares here's my thoughts on them

further explanations on a lot of the points below the cut (it's really long read at your own risk)

For starters english isn't my first language so if I mix up my terms or words I do apologize.

Also, a lot of my analysis comes from the RL manga mainly, as well as Rhine focus events and op materials such as module lore, voice lines, op rec and op files, if you haven’t read it I get it it’s a lot but I’d highly recommend you at least read the manga to get a better grasp of the context, however I will add the source of any and all screencaps I put here so it’s easier to double check.

Also also I will be skipping points that are unnecessary to explain or that are headcanons that are based purely on vibes, this thing is already long enough.

Age difference: 500+ and 30-40

TLDR Muelsyse is probably centuries old but is very vague about everything concerning her life and past, switching identities every so often to avoid getting herself killed due to her position in the world; Saria is at least 38 by the time Lone Trail happens.

For the longest time that Mumu was talked about (esp. in Dorothy’s Vision) as being old, like centuries old, however in her files it’s stated that she’s in her 30s, here’s my reasoning as to why both make sense at the same time.

(Dorothy’s Vision – DV-4 After)

(Muelsyse’s Operator Files – Archive File 1)

There are many instances of Muelsyse being portrayed as “different” from the rest of the world, and yes it can be directly tied to her being an elf, but I also choose to interpret such “uniqueness” as her having grown such perspectives over exceedingly long times and scarring experiences, when the timeframe is big enough, one’s opinions can differ wildly from the norm.

(Lone Trail – CW-5 Before)

(Lone Trail – CW-ST-4)

And yet for this “uniqueness”, Muelsyse’s file still talks about her life like any other, growing up in an orphanage, graduating college and working. But would it be a wise idea to carry the same identity lifetime after lifetime, for someone who is so susceptible to originium, and being as active in more populated and social areas? No, even keeping herself on the downlow wasn’t enough when Ho’olheyak caught her and very nearly killed her by stuffing originium down her throat.

(Dorothy’s Vision – DV-ST-1)

It would make sense that Muelsyse has to be more cautious with her own identity, as she has chosen to live in a world full of originium and people with less than good intentions, so if asked about her past, she can tell it like it is, only keeping unsaid the fact that these events may have happened multiple lifetimes ago.

(Lone Trail – CW-5 Before)

Now for Saria: As far as I have searched there’s no real indicator of Saria’s current age but even a simple assumption that she studied any 4-year major and immediately after went to found RL with Kristen and Muelsyse, she’d be at the very least 38 by the time Lone Trail happens in 1099, as the majority of college graduates are aged around 22 to 24 depending on the major, and Rhine Lab was founded in 1083 by Saria, Kristen and Mueslyse, chances are she’s older if she studied any more than 4 years which isn’t unreasonable.

(Rhine Lab Research Report #1 – Terra Historicus (CN)/Lone Trail (Global release)

Vibe:

Saria, an unmovable mountain that stands tall, a mortal with a grand vision that has risen so much it might as well touch the sky itself. Muelsyse, the flowing ocean upending fleets and crashing violently against rock, all to follow the whims of the moons above, stretching its waves as tall as it can, it could never match the might of the mountain it surrounds, yet it will probably outlive it. And looking far away from them is Kristen, the shimmering sky, so promising, and at the same time unreachable.

Repressed/Open:

Saria is just a repressed calcium brick, both from how she was raised to ignore her feelings and her absorbing those teachings and fueling them into productivity. Mumu is more open in comparison to Saria but she's still reserved about it in general.

No libido/Terminally horny:

Just because Muelsyse is reserved about her sexuality doesn't mean she's not constantly horny for Saria, what else can I tell you other than she's down bad. Saria is initially neutral about the whole deal but becomes progressively hornier for Muelsyse, even more so than her on occasion.

Aggressively romantic/Allergic to PDA:

Muelsyse is a very emotional, affectionate and caring person, but she also understands that Saria is very unaccustomed to PDAs, so she tones it back to a level where both feel comfortable. Saria however is not an emotional person; she’s often perplexed by displays of affection of any kind but does warm up to them with time.

Mentally ill/stable:

Neither is mentally ill, they're just grieving, Saria is a lot more self-destructive about it than Muelsyse though, emotionally stunted calcium brick and all.

KMSing over being in love/Blushing giggling twirling hair:

When they first got together, Muelsyse was a bit more outwardly excited. Both were torn on their feelings for each other as they are still grieving, but Muelsyse has also been yearning for Saria for longer so that dampens the blow (it doesn’t).

Doomed/Blessed by narrative:

Both are doomed by the narrative but. Come on. Mumu is that comfort character that gets put thru every trauma in the universe, I add some extra trauma because she is a long lived and as will probably outlive Saria if the originium doesn’t kill her first. Behold some highlights of Mumu experiencing the horrors in real time:

(Muelsyse’s Operator Files – Archive File 3)

(Expeditioner’s Joklumarkar – Expeditioner Interviews Kin 01)

(Dorothy’s Vision – DV-4 After)

Big/Little spoon:

Saria is usually the big spoon, but Muelsyse also gets to be the big spoon if Saria’s tail allows it.

Weapon/Wielder:

Not so much weapon/wielder dynamic to me so much as it would be combat capabilities, in arts Muelsyse destroys Saria, but in hand-to-hand Saria does break Mumu like a twig.

(Lone Trail – CW-10 Before)

(Dorothy’s Vision – DV-4 After)

The pajamas:

Saria wears old people pajamas, they're comfy and no one uses them to show off so why bother with something flashier. Mumu isn't flashy either but she still retains her sense of fashion even when picking pajamas.

No game/Insane game:

Mumu has mad game but she turns it down very often. Saria has insane game but she's too dense to see it.

Functional/Soggy loser:

Mumu has her shit together, Saria on the other hand, while being a very capable person, is still a certified failwoman; far too stubborn and strict for her own good.

What brings them together?

It's hard to talk about Saria and Muelsyse without talking about Kristen. Saria promised to protect Kristen and her vision.

(Records of Originium: Rhine Lab Manga, ch7 p38/72)

Muelsyse went out of her way to meet Saria and Kristen

(Muelsyse’s Operator Files – Archive File 3)

Muelsyse went on to start Rhine Lab with both of them. Even when talking between the two, Kristen came up in many conversations.

(Lone Trail – CW-10 Before)

And now, Kristen is forever out of reach to the both of them, so what now? Do these memories they had mean nothing without her now? To me, their answers would be no, Saria has fully admitted to being willing to do it all over again; And Muelsyse has expressed how deeply she cares for both Kristen and Saria. They are brought together even more because they’re the only ones who understand just how devastating that loss is to the other. They also play off of each other's energy incredibly well, Mumu’s lighthearted yet slightly distant humor and Saria's deadpan and matter of fact mannerisms elevates their dynamic a lot.

(Records of Originium: Rhine Lab Manga, ch-s1 p2/8)

What kept them apart?

Opposing approaches to the same issue, talking about both Kristen and RL as a whole, Muelsyse tries to improve the situation from the inside for her own personal goals e.g. finding a new world rid of originium; Saria doesn't necessarily try to improve the conditions of RL so much as tries to shield and fix the mistakes that it has made and from the outside, following her own methods to try to make Kristen understand how far she’s strayed from their vision of RL.

(Records of Originium: Rhine Lab Manga, ch8 p88/92)

(Lone Trail – CW-10 Before)

They collaborate on occasion but it’s clear after the Diabolic Crisis that they no longer see eye to eye in a lot of issues and now act very separately.

(Dorothy’s Vision – DV-ST-1)

The meet-cute*:

This one comes with a gigantic asterisk because I'm taking it from the events we explicitly see, it's fair if you think it could've happened far earlier, and it's one of my own hcs, but this is just the one event I feel makes the most sense in canon.

It’s far from the first time they met, but the first time they talk on a deeper level than a coworker relationship, In Lone Trail it’s somewhat alluded to Muelsyse still being slightly outcast from the core in the early days, and as Rhine Lab grew, they all settled into their roles as directors and start to lose touch with one another, only reconnecting a little during Ifrit’s case and after Control has halted their investigation into the Haydn1 lab “accident”, Saria from continues to look into things, with Muelsyse wanting to help out.

(Records of Originium: Rhine Lab Manga, ch6 p42/72)

Skipping forward to ch 8 where the manga switches perspectives back to them, Saria feels dejected because she believes there’s not much else she can do to help Silence and Ifrit, even if she is aware of how much pain Ifrit is in, and how Silence is involving herself in constantly more dangerous territory.

(Records of Originium: Rhine Lab Manga, ch8 p10/92)

Muelsyse can only empathize so much with Saria’s situation, acknowledging that she is mostly looking out for herself, having other options than RL. After that, Saria reminds her that no she doesn’t, so Muelsyse jokingly says she’s only looking to survive.

(Records of Originium: Rhine Lab Manga, ch8 p12/92)

Yes, I do believe she’s joking here, why would she threaten to kill Muelsyse when she has even less evidence against her than Parvis, when Saria hasn’t really commented on doing something similar to him when he is in fact doing something far less funny pretty openly by now.

The reductive tropes

If the last 9 pages worth of word vomit on my end do not convince you that this ship is in fact very appealing, here’s the list of reductive ship dynamics and tropes you can tack on:

Gruff/Dainty, immaculate aesthetic.

Mortal/Long Lived, you can squeeze a lot of angst out of this dynamic.

Also the shit Muelsyse says in Lone Trail, cmon.

(Lone Trail CW-10 Before)

(Lone Trail CW-ST-3)

Fell first/Fell harder:

Mumu fell first, how did she fall for such a loser fr (affectionate). Mumu also fell harder, feeling something after a long ass while of feeling dead inside for centuries? Hard to top that.

Who confessed first?

Mumu is the only one with enough emotional intelligence to carry them through the first years of their relationship, it does get better tho.

The touch segment:

Take it for what you will, it's just the vibes they give me, I added in hair bc I feel like Muelsyse would like it if Saria played with or cared for her hair, Saria is neutral about her own.

Conglaturations you made it to the end :D

#arknights #saria #muelsyse #literary analysis is not my forte i do apologize in advance #also this shit is insanely long but i tried to format it to be as readable as possible

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cookinguptales · 2 years ago

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I almost wrote a small essay in the tags of that "fanwork as content" post but realized that it would probably be better off as its own post. So now it's... a large, rambling essay. lmao

Like... to preface, AO3 is great, it's a great resource for fandom, it feels good to have a centralized location that works well. That said, there has been a steady decline in how I've felt treated as an author since we switched to an archive-only model of fic.

For people who are newer to fandom, pre-AO3 (and even in the early days of AO3), people often crossposted fic. Sometimes to websites, sometimes to journals (particularly LJ/DW), sometimes to communities, sometimes to kink memes...

AO3, while certainly one of the primary places you could upload stuff, wasn't necessarily where you would get most of your primary interaction about your fic. It was always designed to be an archive, not a social media site.

But since we moved to an archive model (and away from LJ/DW) I've noticed that fic gets almost no traction on sites that actually are intended for social interaction. I'm not saying it's easy for any creator in fandom, but god. The numbers on fic posts are just downright demoralizing.

I don't mean to sound arrogant here, but I think I'm a pretty good writer. People seem to really connect with my fic. In multiple fandoms, I've written fic that most people have read and enjoyed, to the point where people have just taken it for granted that if someone reads fic in the fandom, they've probably read something I've written.

All this is to say, I know I've written fics that people like. I know I've written fics that people connect with. And I know those posts still only get like 5 notes sometimes on Tumblr.

I'm proud of my work and I'm happy that it's gotten such a warm welcome on AO3!!! But there are times when I feel like all this means that I could write literally the best fic on earth and still no one would talk to me. People still wouldn't want to interact with me on social media sites.

I wrestled for... honestly, a long time with all this. I had a hard time putting into words why this felt so uh. Bad. Was I just self-conscious about my own writing? Yes, but that's a separate issue. Was I just jealous of others' popularity? Sort of, but it went deeper than that.

I had an issue with a fandom that I don't write in anymore. I got a lot of fanart based on my fic, which was great, which was amazing, there were even fan comics made. Visual media travels better on social media than fic. That's just a fact. And I had to watch as repeatedly, art based on the fic I wrote got thousands of notes while my fic got maybe 12. And I realized the power of social media vs. AO3 because it did get to audiences that weren't familiar with my fic and people started to give those artists credit for my ideas.

I remember watching the tags of those posts because it was occasionally the only way I'd hear feedback on what I'd written (imagine getting one comment and 5 notes on a fic, then seeing dozens of people in the tags of fanart saying that it was their favorite fic in the fandom! it was weird!) and seeing the tags gradually devolve into "oh, this is such a neat idea for an AU, artist OP" or "wow this dialogue is perfect [artist] I love it" and like

It's weird to feel so happy because so many people are enjoying your work in a transformative way but also so unhappy because you have been completely removed from the equation. No one... even knows you wrote those things anymore. You have been removed in favor of a more "marketable" version of your work.

It's uh. It's a bad feeling. I stopped writing in that fandom eventually.

So again, I felt like... idk, like there was no point in me even trying. Because I could write the best fic on earth and still somehow get erased as a person. People would want my "content," but they wouldn't want me.

I think that's what hurt my feelings so much.

What I've realized is this: what I miss is the sense of community. On LJ, you could post a fic, cross-post it to a community, and there would be comments that would become conversations that would become lasting friendships. Not always! But often. I still talk to some people daily who I met through fic on LJ over a decade ago.

In the archive model, there has almost become a death of the author. The me on social media and the me on AO3 are very different; more importantly, it's almost like it's viewed as the "me" is on social media, but the work is on AO3. I am absent. There is only the fic, not the person who created it.

And that's okay, but when you try to combine those two things on social media and it goes over like a lead balloon... idk. There's an odd sense of dehumanization. I don't mean it in like... I don't know, a dramatic human rights violation kind of way. More that I literally feel like less of a human person the way I interact with fandom these days. Like I'm no longer a person who writes fic as a way to connect with my fellow fans and more a "content creator" whose human side is separate from my creation and never the twain shall meet.

(And I'll admit it feels especially galling to be forced into the capitalistic "content creator" box when it's not even a thing I can make money off of, lmao. It's like the worst of both worlds. I feel like if I can't make money off fanfic, I should at least be exempt from capitalistic social trends during its creation.)

I'm not so much complaining about my current fandom; WWDITS has actually been one of the best fandoms for interaction I've been in since the birth of AO3. That's one of the reasons I keep writing stories for fellow fans to read -- many of those fans feel like my friends, and I want to make them happy.

I think that poster was right when they talked about how the pivot from fan to "content creator" has fucked up fandom. There is this sense that we should be treating fandom like a job, often a fast-paced one with no pay. There is this idea that we should be separated from our "content" like you might a worker from their product, and blah blah blah alienation of labor, Marx, I get it, but damn if that isn't a shitty thing to do to your fellow fans who are making art for the love of art.

There are so many things I do love about AO3. I like having a central, organized place to put my fic. I like not having to worry about my work being lost to the ages. I like having an organized comments section I can return to on bad days to cheer myself up.

But I don't like the way that fic has kind of been relegated to a portion of fandom where people aren't particularly social. I don't like the way that authors are separated from their writing. I hear people complain sometimes about A/Ns because god forbid an author leave any trace of their actual personality to distract you from their content.

I can't have DMs with someone on AO3. I can't add someone to my friends list. There are no "beloved mutuals." There is just my work and the people who are kind enough to comment on it, even if they never actually engage with me elsewhere.

It's... a weird feeling, to feel so loved and unloved at the same time. Like you keep writing trying to make something good enough that people will talk to you but like. That's really not how it works. lmao. The best fic in the world won't make you friends anymore. It won't make people see you as a fellow fan rather than a pen name under a title.

My fic is some of the most personal stuff in the entire world, but my personhood is stripped away from it. It's so fucking weird. People like my fic, but they don't like me. They remember my stories but not the person who told them. It's bizarre. It feels like having your life and experiences strip-mined for content, and then the rest of it is just... left behind.

Frankly... I work in the publishing industry IRL and I have had opportunities to write professionally. Real, tangible opportunities. But I turned them down because I've seen it, the way that trying to fit such an intensely personal art form into a capitalistic framework can be exhausting, dehumanizing, and stressful. I don't want that for my work. Fandom has always been an escape from that.

But now fandom is starting to conform to those exact same capitalistic frameworks (and ofc without any kind of capitalistic compensation) and I hate to see it. It's so stressful. I feel like we're losing a lot of what makes fandom fun for writers and we're getting pretty much nothing in return. I'm not surprised that so many writer friends I know in fandom have quit.

like damn, I just wanna have fun with a bunch of dumbshits who love to overanalyze vampires and cry over their dumbshit shenanigans, not take on a second job. one that, I reiterate, I am not being paid for.

(Note: I am not asking for payment, just that I not be treated like a worker. The tradeoff for treating someone like a worker is that they get compensated for it. If I'm not being compensated, no one gets to treat me like this is my fucking job.)

It's a weird thing, because for a lot of people, fandom has become their job. Fanartists at cons selling fanart, youtube essayists making money off videos, professional cosplayers with sponsorships, etc. And so fandom is becoming more corporate, more capitalistic, more marketable. It's frustrating for those who don't want to capitalize on our fannish output, and doubly frustrating for people who are legally unable to do so.

I'm realizing as I write this that I'm most upset about the nonconsensual capitalization of fandom, particularly when imposed on people who are unable to access the very meager benefits of capitalism. I didn't ask for any of this!

Feels like when I'd be forced to go to assemblies for the US military when I was in high school. Like I'm morally opposed to all this but I'm also not physically fit for "service" anyway, so it's doubly insulting. I feel like I've been opted into the, ah, corporatization of fandom when I'm not even eligible for employee benefits. None of this should even apply to me! ;;

Okay!! I'm all het up now so I'm gonna go eat lunch and go for a walk! No monetization of hobbies, only trees.

#I need to go look at a tree lmao #just me #vent post #ask to tag idrk

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