i made this the day my ac went out and i was really hot and emotional

Three Times a Charm

Originally posted by parkerpete

Peter Parker X Reader

Kinder Than You - Part 1

My Heart Will be There - Part 2

Not Saying a Word - Part 3

Word Count: 2495

Author: Kate (by the Ocean)

Warnings: Nightmares, very deep feels…

A/N: MWAHAHAHAHA it’s done! My first multi-part series is completed. I’m not gonna lie, this was pretty fun, but it is 2 o’clock in the morning and I am exhausted. Love y’all… Anyways, I think you all should be feeling pretty thankful, because I seriously (you can confirm with Katy on this) considered killing the reader, but that would have taken like 2 more freaking parts. The Perks of Being a Writer, I guess. You want to kill the favorite character when the storyline gets boring. But I didn’t, and you all get mushy fluff instead. I hope you’re happy. 

The movie finished, and Peter had all but forgotten that you were currently on the couch in his apartment, being held against your will. He had restrained himself from looking at you for the last 15 minutes of the movie, though he had admitted to himself multiple times that you looked adorable in your rain-wet clothes, frustration clearly evident on your face. The credits started, and Peter allowed himself one quick glance. Looking over at the couch, he smiled to himself at the sight of your curled-up figure, your face void of expression as you slept. Peter stared at you for a few seconds, and then shivered. He realized that he had been sitting in drenched clothes in an apartment that had the AC blasting to battle the normally very hot New York summer climate. He got up and walked into his room to change into something warm and dry.


Peter left the room, and almost immediately, your sleeping body started shaking slightly. Due to your powers sucking away at your chemical energy constantly, you always had a lower body temperature than most people, because your natural heating systems had less energy allotted to burn. All the Avengers would fuss over you being warm in the winter, but there had never been concern during the summer, what with New York’s hot and muggy climate. But, then again, you had never really been out in the rain during a cold front, and then slept in them either. And since you were very concentrated on not thinking about Peter, which was slightly futile and in vain, you had forgotten to consider the fact that during sleep, the body’s temperature was lowered even further to conserve energy; the reason why you slept under 3 comforters. You subconsciously curled up even tighter, the shivers starting to rack your petite and exhausted frame.


Peter walked in several minutes later, wearing his favorite pajama pants and a casual t-shirt, pulled rather tight over his biceps. He grabbed the remote and turned on one of your favorite TV shows. He turned to go grab something to eat when he heard you turning on the couch. Peter walked over to find your quaking state, and he quickly grabbed your favorite blanket from the table next to the couch. He flung it open, and placed it on you, tucking it gently under your sides so he wouldn’t wake you. You shivering subdued slightly, and Peter knelt by your side. Slowly he reached his hand out to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb across the smooth surface softly. He realized how stupid he was being, and went to pull away. Before he could, your head tilted into his touch, keeping his hand there. Your expression lightened in your sleep, and Peter looked at you sadly. You looked so, so peaceful like this, like the way you did before the fight. Peter’s brow furrowed at his remembered the fight, and the sadness that had replaced the light in your eyes since you had caught him and Liz. He looked at you, kicking himself mentally for the millionth time about Liz. Sure, he had had a crush on her for ages, but if he knew it would’ve hurt and affected you this much, he never would have done it. Knowing you were happy meant more to him than Liz ever would. Peter’s hand moved up to your damp hair, running his hands through it. Without thinking, he wished that he had made the decision to kiss you, not Liz. He froze, his eyes widening at his subconscious wish, and he realized that he had been denying it for a while now. Peter liked you, no, he loved you. He loved you, Y/N Y/L/N. A montage of all his treasured memories of you played through his mind, starting off with the day you two became friends, and then the time you had introduced him to the Avengers, then when you both scored top of the class in middle school, that time Steve had taught you guys to dance, and made you both practice in front of a camera. He had to lead, because your mind was a bit occupied, and you kept stepping on his toes. Finally, he remembered that time you had gone to Homecoming as friends, and you had looked absolutely beautiful in your blue lace dress that made your eyes pop, and how you had bit your lip painted with red lipstick at his gaze. And the same way that pretty face had broken when Peter had broken your heart. 

Peter covered his eyes with his hand, and stood up. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a carton of ice cream out of the freezer. 


Your neck and arms ached from the constant injections of mysterious liquids that made you shake with fear at things you couldn’t see. The four walls that contained you were familiar, the walls of your cell in the HYDRA base. The place you had been held after you had been captured during a reconnaissance mission. You had been paired with a SHIELD agent, more accurately a SHIELD mole that worked for HYDRA. You had been taking the lead, and he had caught you in the back of your head with a hit from his gun. They had carried you in here, and tried to replicate your powers. This was a different nightmare than your normal torture one, and it had haunted you since the fight. You heard voices shouting outside your cell, and Peter burst into the room, dressed in his Spider-Man suit. You breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was here to save you. Without a word, Peter walked to the computer besides the table you were strapped to, and loaded some of the information onto a SHIELD hard-drive. He finished his work on the computer, and started to walk out of the cell again. You cried for help, trying to remind him that you were there. He peeked his head back in the door.

“Peter! Help me, my arms are strapped down!” You said, wondering why he had almost forgotten you. 

“I’m not here for you.” Peter said, no emotion in his voice whatsoever. 

“But, but I was k-kidnapped, and they’ve been experimenting with my powers. I need to get out of here. Peter, help me!” You pleaded, trying to strain against the bonds. 

“Why would I do that?” He asked.

“I’m your b-b-best friend. Peter, it’s me! It’s Y/N. Y-You love m-me.” You said, your heart beating fast as your confusion heightened. 

“I hate you.” He stated.

“Peter, no. Don’t do this, please.” A tear rolled down your cheek, and before you could say anything more, 2 soldiers grabbed Peter from behind, and pinned his arms to his side. You cried out to him, trying to warn him, but they carried him to a chair and tied his arms together. One of the soldiers came over to you, and adjusted the table so that you had a clear view of Peter. The other soldier got out a gun, and loaded it quickly. Your heart stopped as you watched the man point the firearm at Peter. You tried to look away, but the soldier next to you grabbed you jaw, and forced your gaze towards Peter again. 

“If you live, tell Liz I love her.” Peter said, his voice cracking with fear at the barrel pointed at his chest. You clenched your jaw, a dozen tears slipping down your face as you breathed in unevenly. You heard the gunshot ring through the room, and you watched Peter slump in his chair. You screamed, feeling your heart rip apart inside your chest. You heard someone calling your name, and you felt the soldier shaking your shoulders, trying to quiet your cries.


“Y/N! Y/N, wake up! Please wake up.” Peter’s voice pleaded with you as he tried to wake you up from your nightmare. You breathed in sharply as your eyes flew open. Your arms were shaking from the feeling of cold clothes covering you, and there were tears running relentlessly down your face. You looked into Peter’s face, and he looked into your scared eyes. He sat on the couch next to you, and you planted your face into his chest. He was shocked at your sudden contact, but his familiar arms soon closed around you, pulling you closer to him. “Hey, hey. Y/N. It’s okay, I’m here for you.” He said, running his hand up and down your back comfortingly. You continued to sob into his chest, trying to clear the image of Peter being shot from your mind.

“P-Peter.” You said, stuttering slightly as you looked up into his brown eyes that reminded you of home.

“Yeah, Y/N. It’s me.” He said, smiling at you softly. “I thought you stopped having nightmares.”

“I-I did. This w-was a different one.” You said, burying your face into his shoulder.

“Hey, look at me.” Peter said. You looked up at him again, and he brought one of his hands up to brush the hair out of your face. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, trying to calm down as you searched his gaze, completely forgetting about the Liz thing as you got lost in his eyes. He leaned in slowly, and you closed your eyes, tilting your head up and then snapping it back. Everything from the last month came flooding back, you shuffled out of Peter’s arms, and pulled your knees up to your chest. Peter looked at you, and you averted your gaze, biting your lip.

“How long was I out?” You asked, not looking at him. 

“You fell asleep during the movie.” Peter said, trying to hide his disappointment. You shivered, and started rubbing your hands up and down your arms to try and warm yourself up.

“Do you still have any of my pjs here?” You asked. You would always keep a spare outfit and pair of pajamas here in case of emergency.

“Course. They’re in my dresser.” Peter said, pushing himself off the couch, and offering you a hand. You took it timidly, and smiled at him quietly. He pulled the clothes out of his dresser, and handed them to you. You mumbled ‘thank you’, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind you. You peeled out of the damp clothes, and pulled the worn fabric on. You looked in the mirror, and cringed at your appearance. Your eyes were puffy, and the tip of your nose was pink. 

“And you wonder why he chose Liz.” You said to yourself. Little did you know, Peter was waiting outside the door, knowing that you talked to yourself frequently. You walked out, your hand trying to cover the bandage peeking through the tight shirt. Peter grabbed the bundle of the clothes and threw them onto his desk chair, pulling your hand away from your side.

“What’s that?” He said, his eyes voicing concern. Your shoulders rolled forward, and Peter saw the stress that May had been talking about.

“It’s nothing.” You lied, biting your lip. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, and your eyes searched his before you conceded. “I broke a rib. When I fell into that table, and it caused a blood build-up. It got worse because I didn’t have it checked out until today.” Peter’s eyes filled with guilt, and you looked at the ground, his constant gaze too much for you to bear. Suddenly, you felt arms wrap around you, and rested your head on Peter’s chest without looking up, trying to ignore the quick beating of you heart.

“I’m sorry. Gosh, I’m so sorry, Y/N. This is all my fault.” He whispered into your ear. You looked up at him.

“No, it’s my fault, Peter. I should’ve texted you or just… I shouldn’t have been mad about it. I mean, you do love her.” You said, watching his eyes flick between both of yours. His eyes filled with something that you couldn’t quite place.

“It is not your fault. And I don’t lo-”

“It’s okay, Peter. I get it. Honestly.” You said, wriggling out of his hold for the second time. Liz already hated you, why try to even fight for your side if you weren’t going to win? You slipped into the kitchen, and filled a glass with water, sipping from it to fill the dehydration caused by all the tears. You heard Peter walk in after you, but you didn’t turn around, worried that you’d start crying again.

“You kept saying my name. During your nightmare.” Peter said, getting some water too. You didn’t say anything, not knowing how to respond. “You kept begging me to help you.” You still didn’t respond, trying to get the image out of your mind. Peter came up to you, and for the third time, his held you to his chest, and you turned to look at him.

You told him all about the dream, too exhausted to come up with lies, and too hurt to leave out him talking about Liz. 

“You said ‘If you live, tell Liz I love her.’” You said quietly, pulling your arms up in front of you to put some distance between you and Peter. 

“I don’t love her.” Peter mumbled, and you looked at him, confused. “I love you, Y/N.” 

“No you don’t.” You said. You had been through too much heart break to accept that statement willingly, and Peter could sense it. 

“I broke up with Liz that day at school. Because I love you, and she was hurting you.” He said, looking at you earnestly. All your eyes showed was confusion, and Peter felt his heart break that he had hurt you this much that you had forgotten what love felt like. Peter leaned in again, but you were confused. He loves Liz, he hates you, and that’s what you were positive about. Until his lips touched yours. Something real and true connected you both, and you melted into Peter’s soft touch. Peter pulled you closer to him, picked you up, and placed you on the kitchen counter. You pulled away first, smiling. He looked at your happy expression, and saw the light that he loved enter your eyes for the first time in a month.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Peter said, and your laugh filled the kitchen, making Peter’s heart leap.

“But you hate me.” You said, doubt darkening your eyes again.

“But I love you.” Peter said,his nose touching yours. His touch sent the doubt away again, and you smiled. “Why did it take me three times to tell you that I love you for you to believe me?” He laughed, kissing your forehead.

“Three times a charm, I guess.” You grinned. Peter rolled his eyes at you, and you giggled. From that point on, you never had that nightmare again.

@ekinsyikin @afangirlssoul @wannabe-weasley @akm0o @rxchelpxng @mindfullofpoetry @sailorchibimoonunicorn @ginnyweasels @you-need-a-driver @143amberrose @miss-nerdalots

“As an INTP, why do you drift off so much? What is it really like? Is it really that hard to pay attention? Is the world really that boring to you? It comes off as rude and arrogant sometimes; you’re in the outside world, interact with it! It’s not that bad! You hurt people’s feelings when you drift away, it’s like you don’t care about them or you think they’re wastes of time. No one is worthless!”

Imagine it’s the future (probably the near future if you pay any attention to technology news) and you’re an architect. What you need to do is design and build floor plans for a home. You’re in a room with projectors and you attach these little devices on your fingers. Then, you close your hands touching all ten of your fingers together before opening them wide. As you spread your fingers, a giant holographic, interactive array immediately sprouts in the middle of the room from the projectors. It’s the floor plan you’ve been designing. You can see the doorway, chairs, tables, walls, carpet.. all in fine color and detail. With a swipe of your fingers you can take a virtual first-person tour or you can zoom out to have a bird’s eye-view. You can tap and drag and flip and click and touch and flick, the room literally changing at your finger tips. Move that table here, get rid of that wall, resize that window. All at your command.

Great visual examples of this is in the Iron Man movies with Robert Downey Jr. Any time Tony Stark is hard at work in any of his workshops around the country and interacting with JARVIS, he uses something similar to what I’ve just described. Or in the 2003 movie Paycheck when Ben Affleck’s character reverse-engineers a competitor’s product. Or like in Minority Report with Tom Cruise when he’s interacting with the images of the future crimes that have yet to take place.

A more interactive example is like when you build your homes in The Sims video games. Or in Minecraft, especially with the in-depth mods, of designing and redesigning your different hideouts and safe rooms and bases, your intricate system of railways and redstone circuits.

Imagine this too: In Groundhogs Day with Bill Murray, or let’s say the more recent movie Edge of Tomorrow with Tom Cruise, anytime Cruise’s character dies, he wakes up to the beginning of his day and starts over fresh. He fails an obstacle, dies, wakes up, goes back to that obstacle, remembers how it kills him, and then easily bypasses it. In this way, he is allowed to adapt to battle conditions. He talks to someone, they don’t respond the way he needs them to, he dies, wakes up, tries again with a different approach. Through some personalized time machine made only available to you, you get to experience something similar! Today you have a job interview! You walk in, do terribly, you don’t get the job. Start over! You walk in, almost get the job but said one wrong thing and don’t quite nail it. Start over! You walk in, ace the job interview, and the job is yours.

These are what it’s like for an INTP when we ‘drift off’ or 'aren’t paying attention’ or 'are inside our own head.’ I call it daydreaming. Maybe other types do this as well, but it’s a notorious INTP trait. You have to realize though, that my examples are rudimentary because it barely explains only a couple of facets of our (or at least my) daydreams. It could be about a topic or subject that interests us, pouring over the facts we know about it, how we can learn more, or how we improve upon what we already know. It can be about an event that grabbed us that we’re playing over and over, reliving something amazing or understanding how everything went wrong. It could be about a lesson we’ve learned, found valuable, and how to apply it in our every day lives. It could be a question we have and all the questions that stem from the possible answers we can conceive from the original question, and all the questions that stem from the sub-questions, ad infinitum. It could be about someone we want to talk to and all the conversations we can conceive having with them, and all the answers they could possibly have from the good to the bad.. It could be anything that compels a person to ponder. Except, while other types ponder, we take that to the next level and enter a different reality altogether, a personal reality as impenetrable as we allow it to be.

Sometimes this reality is fragile: we can hear you and see you; we can exit when you’re getting frustrated or something important is happening (like driving or being shot at). Other times, this reality is all-encompassing. The external world is like being outside on a sunny day, and the INTP personal reality is coming inside your home and shutting your door; you can’t feel the warmth of the sun, you can’t feel the hot wind against you, and the neighbor mowing his lawn becomes a distant whir barely a whisper in the distance.. The outside world doesn’t exist anymore, and you can work comfortably and quietly in peace. No social requirements to give you a sunburn, no annoying small talk or emotions to breathe pervasively into your eyes and ears, noises and sights barely a whisper of sensation in the background…..

a person appears in your home. Someone you want to have a conversation with.
“Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?”
“I have that thing tonight, you know that.”
*duh, okay start over*
“Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun, where do you live?”
“I’m not telling you where I live”
*that’s a little forward, start over*
“Are you free sometime this week?”

(you get the idea)

Or maybe you ARE an architect and the first scenario at the beginning of this post is what applies to you. Or perhaps you’re bored and building a spaceship. Maybe you’re challenging yourself to a long division problem in your head, maybe you were stuck in a video game and you’re replaying it to figure out what you may have missed, or you’re practicing chess strategies, or maybe you’re an artist and going over how to draw a particular body part or shape.

It’s a free space environment where everything is possible and nothing is absurd, full of resources to build what you need, quiet so you can solve that puzzle and answer those questions, omnipotence so you can simulate a situation as you understand it, comfort so you can calm down after an emotional event.. It’s your closet and it is as close to infinity as anyone will ever achieve in size, in depth, and in power.

This is why when you snap an INTP out of their trance, you can get an angry response back. It’s happened enough times to us that we generally just shove our irritation down instead, but how do you feel when someone slams their balled fist against the door of your bed room or the front door of your home as hard as they can, pounding incessantly to get your attention, to urgently open the door as quickly as possible? And then when you open that door, “Yes?” as your calm, rational reply, and your intruder responds with “LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE SALAD I HAD. IT WAS ONLY OKAY, I GOT IT AT…”

How would that make you feel?

Well, we think *Did you really just pull me out of my room or my home for this? Out of my infinity? Out of my personal space? My comfort? For your salad? Hey, fuck you buddy.* or some variation thereof.

The thing is, when someone hurts your feelings because they express disinterest at your salad story, it doesn’t mean your salad story is actually uninteresting. Maybe it is to that person (like for me; your salad story sucks), but other people might value it. And just like us and your garbage salad story, our personalities and the ways that mostly anyone else will ever feel isn’t actually always exactly as you perceive them. You say we’re being arrogant and rude for how we treated your story, we think you’re arrogant and rude for believing your salad was more important than the redesigning of Castle Gaillard for the Hundred Years’ War so the French couldn’t reclaim it in the year fourteen-somethingsomething. Just like we don’t care about your shitty story, you don’t care about our private mind closet (or you wouldn’t have pounded on the door). Was anyone really being rude? Or are we both just biased as to what we think is important?

Am I saying leave us alone? Not always, but sometimes.. Yeah do that. INTPs will always think they’re the most rational. We always think we’re right. So, you might get that INTP who is unapologetic for snapping at you, or who fusses because they want you to leave them alone, because they don’t think they’re being unreasonable or ridiculous. We do sometimes need people to make us realize that how we feel isn’t the *right* way, it’s just one way. As much as some of us (not all of us) hate to admit it, we do need people, and so those that stick around through our bullshit.. or even better, adore our bullshit.. we really do appreciate it, and even if sometimes we think you’re crazy for liking us, we really do know on some level that we need it. Everyone does. Don’t subject yourself to or put up with outright, inappropriate cruelty or meanness.. but do try not to take our perceived coldness and our seeming rudeness personally. We really are worthy, valuable, loyal-to-a-flaw friends, spouses, and companions, and we really do need the patience. Even when it seems we don’t always give patience back, we have plenty of other things to give.

Thank you.

P.S. (Looooooong P.S. about myself, skip this if you aren’t interested in personal rants about myself):
I don’t know if everything I said goes for all INTPs, or if it’s more of an “NT” thing altogether. So if something I said doesn’t apply to you and you’re an INTP, or something (or all of what) I said ALSO applies to you and you’re not an INTP, then accept my apology. Or don’t accept it, I really don’t care.

My daydreams do get intensely all-encompassing and blanket my consciousness to the point that it takes deliberate snapping or shaking me (gently) or one other thing (Ill explain in a sec) to get my attention. Usually though, they’re semi-intentional. “Semi” meaning that while I can definitely make the conscious effort to focus on something and drift away into a daydream, sometimes it’s completely automatic when my subconscious has determined I can’t learn something (or learn something necessary or interesting) from what is being said, and instead it pulls me into a daydream where I can maybe do something or teach myself something I deem more useful.

I also don’t intentionally make them weak or intense. I haven’t experimented or anything like that, but I THINK it depends on how much sensory disturbance I’m getting beforehand. If it’s already really loud and bright, I am not going to be able to go too deep. However, if it’s quiet and not-so-bright, while I will intentionally focus on my whatever-it-is, I’ll unintentionally drift so far deep into my head I might as well be asleep (I’m not asleep, of course, but my reaction to visual and aural stimuli is that of someone taking a nap).

The one other thing I mentioned a moment ago that will pull me out of a daydream is hearing my name. Some of you who follow me know my real name, I’d be grateful if you didn’t reveal it. If you’re nosey (knowsy?) and find it through Google, I’d also appreciate if you didn’t reveal it, but I understand this is the internet where good deeds generally cannot be requested. Still, I’m crossing my fingers and holding my breath. Deadly Question is a pseudonym I’m trying to separate from my name; I am not famous or important, I just have a job and a future career, and those things do not enjoy personal opinions being available on social media, so I’m trying to be responsible. Anyway. I do not enjoy pretending I am better or more capable than other people in any way (okay, maybe pretending, but I am not delusional about it), but I appear to be fine-tuned in recognizing my name when no other words or noises are intelligible, whether in a daydream or not. No matter how far or deep inside of a daydream I will ever be in, I will always hear my name. Even if I don’t respond immediately, you were heard. It’s the knock that can be heard around the world and while I might not answer the door, it is a guarantee that I heard it.

Yesterday morning, I was in a light daydream. I drove home, parked, fished my keys out of my pocket.. and that’s the last thing I remember before I fell much deeper. When I snapped back to reality I was holding my key against the keyhole of my front door, just standing there. Twenty-seven minutes had passed since I looked at the clock in my truck and then my watch after I popped back in. The sun blinded me as it rose pass the trees, or I think I’d have stood there longer. I’m not a stranger to my daydreams, but I realized how weird it might seem to a neighbor if they had been watching me (they weren’t), and that’s part of what inspired me to write this passage.

The other parts were questions I’d received in the past, questions and other posts I’ve read here on Tumblr, questions I personally received here on Tumblr, and verbal fights I’ve had most of which had initially made me feel really guilty about who I am (but don’t worry, those are in the past and worked out already). I do get that my daydreaming can come off as inconsiderate to you, but expecting me to care about the things I don’t actually care about also comes off as inconsiderate to me. I pride myself on having integrity, and me pretending to like someone I don’t, or pretend I care about the things that they say when I don’t, makes me hate myself, with very, very minor exception. I am not so immature that I won’t appeal to others when it’s morally right (according to my own beliefs), or when I want to get along with someone who is important to me or important to someone I find important myself. But otherwise, accept me for who I am and I will damn sure accept you for everything that you are, and you can take that to the bank, son.

Oh my God it’s really the end of the post. Rejoice,


Check Please - Zimbits.  1800 words.  A03.

After the game with the Aces, Jack and Bitty talk.

-Reaction fic to Junior Year #8: LVA @PVD Part II


Jack sends Bitty a quick text as he leaves the rink, just letting Bitty know he’ll call soon. Bitty texts back, “okay – love you” and doesn’t ask any questions.  

It has become their routine – quick texts here and there, tiding them over until Jack can be alone, and they can talk.  The dull ache of hiding their relationship is ever-present, but Jack doesn’t have a solution for it, at least not right now.  All he can do is give Bitty as much love as he can, and soak up Bitty’s love in return, and hope that’s enough to carry them through.

When Jack finally makes it back to his apartment he leaves his shoes and jacket by the door, and starts pressing Bitty’s number before he even sits down on the couch.

“Hey there, handsome.” Bitty’s voice is soft.  “How are you?  You didn’t get hurt in that dogpile, did you?”

“Just a few bruises, I think,” Jack replies, pressing a hand to his side where someone’s knee had landed. “Nothing serious.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Jack leans back against the couch cushions, closing his eyes.  He can imagine Bitty is there with him in his apartment, maybe standing in the kitchen, waiting for a pie to be ready.  “Tell me about your day,” he says finally.  He knows there is more to say – about the game, about Kent – but he’s not quite ready.

Keep reading

ocean-of-stars  asked:

Idk if you'd be interested, but I thought of a fic idea where Soryu and MC go to a festival and he tries to win her a super large toy (much like in Summer Memories). The game Soryu chooses is of course one of those water gun shooting games, BUT WHAT IF the game was rigged so you have an extremely slim chance of winning and Soryu ends up spending a fair amount of money and getting super frustrated because he was too stubborn to quit.

Omg I had so much fun writing this! I’m really glad I got this request and I really hope you enjoy this (^^)

The Night Festival
Rating: G
Mc x Soryu
Ryosuke and Samejima tag along

It was another hot day, but the nights have been pretty cool lately. I wonder how the guys are doing at the office. Soryu’s been using the idea of keeping the ac off to toughen them up. I think all it does is make Ryosuke grateful for my care package of ice cream at every visit. I smile and laugh a little at the thought of his smile lighting up a room. Anyway, I think of what flavors to pick up as I change out of my uniform and head out.

Keep reading

Hot and Cold

Description: A very short fluffy drabble fic that I wrote in response to Phil getting ready to get his wisdom teeth removed (boys I am expecting videos!):)

Length: A very short 2,376 words

Warnings: Literally nothing, dentists and fluff basically

Notes: This was tons of fun to write, and I’d like to give a shoutout to @phanscherryblossom for letting me use their AMAZING tweets they came up with (the funny little Phil anecdotes in the cab)! Check their blog out if you have a sec, they are clearly hilarious and very nice for letting me use their hilarious ideas:)

Hope you all enjoy!

Keep reading

Park Life

I had an anonymous prompt asking me to write something quite specific so I thought it would fit as a finale ficlet for The Park Series.  The previous parts can be found in my Ramblings if you need a refresher.  Some folks might recognise some backstory from Kismet too.  Also I dedicate this to the wonderful b’day girl mirandasmadeofstone - I hope this little ficcy takes the edge off of the undesirable day?

Thanks to nemo-miracle-grow for finessing.😘

Park Life

Finn was filled with excitement and nervous energy as he packed his cool bag ready for his favourite day of the year.  It was the 28th of July; ‘Picnic Day’ and he was as giddy as a child in a sweet shop.  Every year he prepared a picnic so he and Rae could celebrate the anniversary of their first date seven years before.

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Aro/Aces Over Twenty - My Experience

I’m 23, I’m aro/ace.

I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time, I think I finally found the right way to do it. Please contact me with any questions:)

I’m writing this because I really believe things would of been a hell of a lot different for me if I had known of these terms earlier. This is my experience, and I hope somebody else can use it to avoid the mistakes I made. 


I can remember the exact moment when I should have realized I was aro/ace. I was 15, I had a great boyfriend, who was handsome, objectively attractive, kind, honest, and everything I wanted from a partner. A moment passed between us when it struck me that, I should really be attracted to him, I should be motivated to do something sexually with him. But I don’t feel anything.

[I shrugged off the feeling. We mutually broke up a several months later realizing we were never really anything but “good friends”]

Why it was hard to realize I was aro/ace.

I like sex (in general). I like being close to someone, I like being special to them. I like the way people look at me when they’re attracted to me, want to date me. Any emotional or physical problems I had with sex I figured were natural for a female who wasn’t supposed to like sex anyway, or at least grew up thinking she wasn’t supposed to. I had talked to allosexual female friends who had this same problem. And any problems I had with romantic relationships I chalked it up to the relationship itself–the guy, the situation, he wasn’t doing something or did something too much, etc. I never dug deeper than that, into my internal basic motivations. Until I saw on TV something that I wanted way more than what I was pretending to want.

What changed.

I watched a TV show, starring a man and a woman. The woman was a healthy aromantic bisexual with very low interest in sex (who nonetheless went out and got it when she wanted it without shame). 

I loved this character in a way that made me examine more closely my already confused and tired sexuality. The thing is, I knew at that point what I had been questioning for a long time. I wasn’t straight enough to be heterosexual and wasn’t gay enough to be bisexual. 4 years ago this same question brought me to asexuality blogs, and I found myself re-reading the same things now at the age of 23.

I was highly skeptical of both the asexuality and aromanticism. Asexuality sounded like an excuse for low sex drive and aromanticism just sounded made up. Nonetheless as I kept watching this show I had both terms in my mind. And boy oh boy was my stunning flawless sexually confusing celebrity crush aromantic. She was aromantic in a way that made the term real to me and she had exactly the kind of relationship with her male partner that I had always craved but never knew how to articulate.

Coming Out Aromantic

Aromanticism would have been nice to know about when I was single but I’m in an alloromantic relationship with a man who likes to use the word “love” a lot. The problem is, I just cannot return the sentiment. After owning the term aromantic I take small comfort in the fact that I’m not emotionally damaged, but some days I still feel broken. I like that it’s possible to build strong healthy relationships without love–and that my partner supports this whole-heartedly–but most days I still wish I could just feel whatever it is that gets him so starry eyed. Maybe things would be just a little easier between us. I still haven’t figured it out completely but I now I can move forward without looking for problems in the wrong places. 

Coming Out Asexual 

This was significantly harder. I hated the idea of what the stereotyped-asexual is. There was no denying that I liked sex most of the time. I liked thinking sexual thoughts, they’re fun. I found people hot and liked looking at them. I had male and female celebrity crushes and I took great pleasure in fantasizing about them. It’s only recently I realized I had been over-thinking my sexuality just like I always have. The truth is, I just don’t feel attraction towards people. I just don’t. Especially not towards anyone in real life that I encounter, no matter what the emotional connection. And if I do feel attraction towards a celebrity it’s only because I like them for other reasons and find it easy to use their image as a tool for sexual arousal. 

[Finally realizing the difference between sexual attraction and sexual arousal = HUGE breakthrough for me. I can become physically aroused by sexual images, I am not inherently attracted to anyone.)

Why it’s important for me to ID as aro/ace

Now I know how to frame my relationships without overcomplicating what I’m feeling. That girl at my work who I like more than others–she’s a squish. I mean I personally  hate the term squish….but I know I don’t need to have sexual feelings to be drawn to the way she looks or romantic feelings to love the way she is. And I know that it’s a feeling that only lasts as long as I keep her at a certain distance. And most importantly I know that this way of feeling is natural for me. I’m not making it up to compensate for something else. It’s just the way I’m drawn towards some people and not others, and it’s okay.

Now I know that I want my ideal long term relationship to be a partnership. Not, as I thought before, the Romeo I fell in love with at first sight. But a strong partnership, built on trust, reliability and a desire to move forward together. And if I don’t fall “in love” it doesn’t make that relationship weak. 

Now I know how to approach sex in a way that works for me, without letting my lack of natural attraction or sexual instincts stop me from exploring something I want to explore and share and be apart of. 

I developed squishes without knowing the term, I had boyfriends without knowing I couldn’t fall in love, I had sex without knowing I was asexual, and i doubted, questioned, screamed, tore myself apart, drank myself to sleep pondering the nuances of these things because I knew I wasn’t having normal Romantic or Sexual reactions. In each case whether it was a sexual encounter that left me crying in the bathroom or confusion over a harmless squish I figured that something was really screwed up with me because I felt there was no reason I should be feeling the way I did.

But there was a reason. A pretty obvious and basic reason.

So yes, I could have used the terms asexual and aromantic when I was younger. I needed this identity when I was 15 wondering why I didn’t feel the way I was supposed to towards my casual boyfriend. I would’ve avoided a lot and I mean A LOT of my most significant mistakes. I have developed very unhealthy ideas about relationships and sex that I am still getting over, even though I’m in a healthy relationship now. 

So please please please don’t be afraid to identify with these orientations if you are doubting yourself. You’re not too young. You’re not too inexperienced. And above all its okay to question your identity, and adapt and change your identity as you learn more about yourself.

I went back and forth for a few months wondering if I should submit this anonymously, but I want to be a resource for anyone with questions so please reach out if you have any!