#I remember when my parents would tell me 'that's not a thing'
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oh. this is interesting…
random personal lore drop below
(tldr: I don’t believe I can be a real system but I’m sure as hell not normal)
TW: (minor mentions) gvns, r@p3, d34th, (major mention) su1c1d3
I called myself endogenic because I don’t qualify as traumatized.
let me explain.
I’ve had anxiety, depression, ADHD, and other unidentified issues for my whole life. I roleplayed because it was my escape, life made me want to stop living so why would I stay there? When I was writing or drawing I was those characters, buried in their minds, filling in their bodies, but something would pull me back to reality and I’d feel it crumble. Some characters stayed longer than others. Slowly, I found out they weren’t character’s I had just made up; they were my theriotypes. I left it at that, that I was just a polytherian. But I’m not my types. I share a body with them. I have conversations with them, they care about me, we cuddle as best we can when there’s only one body to share. I love my parents. I love my friends. But life has always been terrifying to me. Sometimes things I’d never experienced would make me cry and hyperventilate. Gunshots make me freeze up and stop breathing. Mentions of sexual assault, of rape, of murder make me want to throw up and cry. Child abuse and childloss make me vengeful like I have nothing but rage. Labels and rules make me sick and dizzy. Poisoning and sickness make me feel like I’m drowning in them. I can’t recognize myself sometimes. My body isn’t mine. I always assumed I was just an odd therian. i learned about systems, and they described the things happening in my head. Some days I tie the door to my room shut because I want to starve and die and crumble so badly. But I always said to myself “my family and friends are fine, so I can’t be traumatized. It’s all in my head, and I’m a failure and a faker for ever thinking that I could be anything else. I’m just being a poser and hurting these people who have been through so much worse.” I believed so deeply that my issues were insignificant and that I didn’t have nearly enough mental problems to be a true system. I said to myself “I don’t have trauma. So I can’t be a DID system. But system is so comforting of a label, so I must be endogenic, and therefore I shouldn’t talk to anyone about my issues because I will just be taking away from people who truly are traumatized.” I never felt like I belonged in supporting spaces because I never got raped or shot or manipulated by my family or friends, even though those things dragged flashbacks from lives I never had, memories from the others in my body. My parents loved me, and my friends cared about me, so I wasn’t traumatized. I have no trauma, so I didn’t deserve to be in those spaces.
There are six of us. The host tries their best to take care of us, but takes out their emotions through cutting and starving themself. This isn’t my body. These aren’t my parents. I can tell these people care, but they’re not mine. I can’t remember what I did for most of the day. It’s all just fog. Fog and static.
If all endos are fake and posers, then I must be one too. Even though I hear my packmates, the others in this body, I love them so dearly, and I can feel their limbs and the memories are so strong it hurts me physically.
I can’t be truly traumatized, right? Not if my family was good.
Not if my friends were nice.
Even though this world makes me want to hang myself…
I don’t count as traumatized enough to be a true system.
I am nothing but a fraud.
ENDO LORE?????!????
#space rambles#cosmo lore#i had a breakdown writing this I think#plural system#plural#plurality#anxiety#tw sui#tw rap3#ranting#poems from the void
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WOLFCLAN: MOON 16.5
"What's that weird thing around his neck?" "He smells funny." "Why's he always asleep? Doesn't he want to explore the camp?"
Rapidwind sighed. His kits were at the age where they had endless questions about everything around them, and asked faster than he could answer. "He came from far away. He smells funny and wears that thing around his neck because he didn't live with a clan, he lived with big animals called 'Twolegs'. Try not to bother him, he's hurt and he's been through a lot. He needs rest. And, um, don't tell him he smells funny. That's rude."
Robinkit, crawling up Rapidwind's back, managed to tumble over his father's head and fall into his paws. Rapidwind avoided the impulse to itch his face where the kit's tail tickled it - Indigoleaf would be furious if he accidentally wiped the poultice off his snout. Again. "But, but, why is he here now?" Robinkit mewed, before Finchkit interrupted by pouncing on his brother.
"Because… Twolegs don't like cats." Rapidwind answered. But was that true? His old clanmate, Terracotta, had claimed most Twolegs were kind. But she had been hurt and thrown out by them too, hadn't she? "So stay away from them. Just like you'd stay away from wolves, or coyotes, or eagles."
"And foxes and snakes and owls!" Oriolekit added. "Is that where we come from?"
Rapidwind stared at the kit for a moment, caught off-guard. "What do you mean, where you come from?"
"Badgerstripe said you brought us to camp." Oriolekit continued, and now her brothers were also looking up at Rapidwind. "Did you get us from Twolegs, like Shimmerstar brought Dusty back to camp?"
Rapidwind knew they'd ask about their origin eventually, but he hadn't settled on how much he would share. "No, you didn't come from Twolegs." He eventually answered. "You're clan-born, because I'm your dad."
"Badgerstripe said most cats have two parents." Oriolekit's gaze was more prying than Rapidwind thought was possible for a kit.
Badgerstripe needs to mind his own business. "That's true." He admitted. He couldn't lie to them. "You're my kits. And you also have a mother." Robinkit opened his mouth, about to speak, but Rapidwind laid his tail over the kit's muzzle. "Hush, just listen. She lived far away, with other cats. She didn't think it was safe to raise kits there, but she couldn't leave, because she was loyal to them too. So we decided you would grow up here, because WolfClan will care for any cat that needs help. Little kits like you, and old kittypets like Dusty."
Rapidwind realized his kits were all looking up at him, wide-eyed. "Does that answer your question?"
Finchkit nodded. "So, does everyone else know our mother?"
"No, I don't think so." Rapidwind glanced around the cave, but it was empty besides him, his kits, and the sleeping Dusty. "A long time ago, back when I was as little as you and the clan lived somewhere else, cats weren't supposed to have families outside their clan. Now that we live in the mountains things are different, but... I thought it was best if I didn't tell everyone. All that matters is that you're here, with me."
Rapidwind assumed that he and Shimmerstar were the only ones to actually remember living with the old codes and traditions. Indigoleaf, Badgerstripe, and Polecatspot had been too young at the time. When they fled to the mountains, it had felt like those restrictions were left behind, and all that mattered was that they would take care of each other. Shimmerstar hadn't punished Rapidwind when he brought his half-clan kits to camp, and treated the kits with the same kindness that they had shown Rapidwind when he was little, but it was obvious that the leader was actively avoiding the subject of WolfClan's deputy breaking the old clan's rules.
"Well, I like being here." Robinkit announced, his squeaky mew as serious as he could make it. Rapidwind didn't miss how he was starting to get fidgety.
"I like it more!" Oriolekit mewed back, and swiped a paw at Robinkit. Robinkit swiped back, and the two started wrestling.
Finchkit bonked his head against Rapidwind's flank, purring. "I like that we get to be with you."
Rapidwind curled his tail around Finchkit, both of them watching the others play-fight. "I like that you get to be with me, too."
#wolfclan#update#bonus#i dont know if ill write more of these. if i do: none will contain plot-critical stuff#it's just a way to add in longer conversations and misc stuff that wouldn't fit in the normal gif format#but i should find a way to make it fit better with the whole video game bit....
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Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 30
When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?
Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You
Word Count: 4319
Warnings: Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff, Premonition, Bonding (This is something specifically for this AU. I do not see this as a "requirement" to fully connect to someone, but for this story, it is needed).
A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.
----------------------------------------- Chapter 30
The following day, he woke before you, lying there just watching you sleep. He knew today would be filled with a lot, and right now, you needed your rest, and he needed this moment. There was nothing to worry about in the now. Right now, nothing troubled him, and you hadn’t had another nightmare. Dean allowed himself to lie there with you for nearly ten minutes before finally dragging himself away and to the kitchen. As soon as he had the coffee brewing, he began making phone calls, informing everyone of what Pamela had said. However, when he called Bobby, he gave him a piece of his mind for how things had gone.
“I’m sorry, Dean. It wasn’t like I knew that stuff would come up,” Bobby apologized for the third time, partially regretting having made the suggestion.
Dean sighed, running a hand down his face as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “I know. You didn’t see her, though. She was distant on the entire drive back here and I couldn’t feel any of her emotions through the connection.” Bobby leaned back in his seat, staring at the closed door of his office. “Is there anything I can do on my end for the two of you?”
Dean thought for a moment, “Yeah. Can you tell the boys they can throw me that surprise party the weekend after we can get out of here?”
That made Bobby chuckle. “How’d you find out about that?”
“Jack let it slip. That kid is still pretty innocent in some ways,” Dean replied, remembering back to that second month he was back when Jack had let just enough slip out about the surprise party.
“Yeah, I’ll let ‘em know,” Bobby replied, trying to push aside the growing concern that had come with Dean’s call. “Call if you need anything. We’re all here, for both of you.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me,” Dean replied, utterly grateful for the support system in the outside world.
Dean poured himself another cup of coffee after he hung up. He’d already called Sam; that had been his first phone call, Bobby his last, and all the adults in between. “It’s gonna be a long day,” he mumbled through a sigh.
Stretching with your arms over your head, you let out a long yawn, the morning finally pulling you from a dreamless slumber. When your arm plopped in the spot Dean should have been, you looked over, a little confused. I didn’t sleep that late, did I?
Glancing at the clock, you chuckled to yourself. Almost nine, of course he’s already up. With a smile on your face, you climbed out of bed and headed into the kitchen. He was there, leaning against the counter, lost in thought. You smiled to yourself, knowing he hadn’t even noticed you yet. “Morning, handsome,” you cooed, stopping next to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Dean practically jumped out of his skin at your presence, his hand over his racing heart as he attempted to catch his breath. “Jesus, Sweetheart. You damn near gave me a heart attack,” he breathed out, wondering how you’d managed to sneak up on him.
GIggling, you poured yourself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table so you could see him. Dean smirked. Oh, someone’s in a playful mood this morning. His whispered words in your mind made you giddy. You were in a playful mood, even though you knew that today was when you were going to share with him what Pamela had told you.
“Maybe,” you replied, drawing the word out, looking down at your coffee as a smile played with your lips. For a moment, you debated dashing to the living room, eyeing the couch briefly.
He set his cup down, enjoying the moment, and wondered just how playful you were feeling. Dean smirked mischievously as he pushed off the counter, slowly strolling toward you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you giggled quietly, unable to take a sip of your coffee. The anticipation of what he might do twisted nicely in your stomach.
“What’s the matter, nervous?” he teased, his tone going a little lower, making you take a shaky breath.
When he was only a couple of feet away and began taking another step, you squealed as he reached for you, then darted into the living room, laughter ensuing as he chased you. You dashed behind the couch, giving Dean an idea. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he was going to get a hold of you. The way your laughter mixed with his and filled the room was like a beautiful symphony.
You slowly moved in the opposite direction he went, matching his pace until you were the one now in front of the couch, the coffee table directly behind you. In one swift motion, Dean not only went over the couch but also grabbed the front of your shirt firmly before falling back into the cushions. The squeal you let out as he pulled you onto his lap had him laughing with more amusement than he could contain.
Dean wrapped his arms around your back, holding you firmly in place, unable to escape. You were laughing so hard that all you could do was rest your hands on his shoulders. The moment froze for Dean, feeling that pang of love that overflowed, threatening to slip from his eyes, but he held it back. As your laughter slowly subsided, you rested your head on his shoulder, evening out your breathing again. “That was fun,” you told him through light chuckles, remembering the way he had eyed you, your breath warm against his neck.
“Yeah, it was,” he sighed contently, rubbing your back with one hand while holding you close with the other. “I love hearing your laughter.”
You debated between telling him everything Pamela had said or just giving him what you had initially planned on saving for his birthday. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be intimate with him, something about it just scared you.
Don’t go getting lost in your head again. The way his words whispered through your mind made you chuckle, sitting up so you could look at him. “And what if I like getting lost in my thoughts, huh?” you asked playfully, not quite ready to let go of the joy the playfulness brought.
He raised an eyebrow, but you saw that glint in his eyes, knowing he was already plotting something as his grip around you slowly tightened. Dean just didn’t want you to get away just yet. “What’s more interesting than you straddling my lap?” he asked as the smirk on his lips began forming.
You leaned a little closer, being just as playful, “Thoughts of you.”
Woman, I swear… A low groan, almost inaudible, rumbled in his chest as one of his hands came up and tangled in your hair behind your neck, holding your head. It was a gentle gesture, but sent a shiver down your entire body. “Sweetheart, do you have any,” he gently gripped your hip, pulling you down against him as he lightly bucked his hips up, grinding against you, “idea what you do to me?”
You hadn’t even realized just how turned on he was until you felt the bulge in his pants rub against your core through your clothes, making you bite your lip. “I didn’t mean to, really,” you told him honestly, and a little shyly. It wasn’t like you were completely ignorant. You just hadn’t done anything with anyone, so you weren’t entirely sure of the things that turned men on, let alone Dean.
Dean gave you a soft smile. He knew you hadn’t intended to turn him on. “I know. It’s why I didn’t just kiss you. I know you aren’t ready. I don’t know why, and you don’t have to explain it to me. I’ll be here, when you’re ready.” Then he leaned closer, leaving a tender kiss on your lips, staying there only a few moments before he pulled away, fighting every urge coursing through his body.
The pout that found your lips at least made him chuckle, but you still felt bad and figured now was as good a time as any to talk to him. Carefully, you climbed off his lap, sitting on the couch next to him, cross-legged and facing him.
After adjusting himself, he turned a bit so that he was facing you, although he wasn’t entirely sure what topic you wanted to talk about. He was trying not to think about kissing you, touching you, and loving you, which was nearly impossible after he’d pulled you down onto his lap. That one he took full responsibility for.
You took one more deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was bad enough that your thoughts were on Dean rather than the topic you wanted to broach, but having his desire mix with your own was making it that much more difficult.
“Okay, so yesterday. Pamela told me a lot, and there are still some things I’m not sure about, but I promised I’d tell you.” It seemed like a decent place to start. “She said that the reason you got sick was because my fear went through the connection we have.” Dean looked at you, a little puzzled, “But, you’ve been afraid before, and it never hit me like that.” he tried to explain, as he was still confused about why it had hit him so hard.
Looking down at your hands, you attempted to remember how Pamela had explained it to you. You pursed your lips as you met his gaze, hoping you didn’t botch it too badly. “She said that hope is your strongest emotion. Well, mine apparently has been fear. It’s what’s been basically running my life. When she mentioned me being afraid to lose you,” your voice got quiet as your gaze fell to the space between the two of you.
“It just sort of hit me, but for me, it was a knot in my stomach. I’ve just been so afraid for so long… I’m not sure how to just take a leap of faith, like she suggested,” by this point, you were almost whispering, and Dean only wanted to pull you into his arms again. He vaguely remembered that part of what Pamela had said, sort of, since he had to bolt to the bathroom before he was sick in the living room.
“I’m afraid I’ll lose you… if we’re closer,” you finally admitted in a barely audible whisper, and now Dean wasn’t going to hold back. He moved closer and pulled you into his arms, shifting you so that you were sitting sideways on his legs. As your emotions crashed into his, he just focused on you, soothing the storm that had taken hold. It was the missing piece for him, so he could understand what kept holding you back. “Looks like we were both trying to figure out a puzzle,” he murmured softly, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“Those monsters took everything from me. I can’t lose you too,” you sobbed out quietly, feeling like the damn inside had finally broken. You didn’t understand that you needed this in order to finish healing, letting him in deeper than you had let anyone.
For nearly an hour, he held you, uttering soft, soothing words and doing his best to comfort you. He probably wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but the pain that came through the connection felt like a vice on his chest. Dean did his best to take slow, deep breaths so your pain didn’t consume him, but a few tears slipped down his cheeks, landing in your hair. He knew that losing your soulmate was one of the most painful things possible, but he hadn’t realized just how much the mere thought of it affected you. Not until now. You were terrified to let someone in that much just to have it ripped away.
“I’ve got you, I always will,” he whispered when your sobs finally subsided. “And I’m not going anywhere, not if I have a say in the matter.” The only hope he had that things would be okay, was because of the words Pamela had said to him. The two of you only had to stay in the bunker for the next week and a half, no matter what.
You wanted to apologize but knew it would frustrate him, so you did your best not to even think the words. “I didn’t mean to break down like that,” you mumbled before sitting up a little.
He met your gaze, seeing how puffy your eyes were from crying. With a soft smile, he gently wiped the lingering tears away. “Crying isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it helps. Like, how they say you have to hit rock bottom before things get better,” he offered, trying to help.
“I just want it all to stop, to go away,” you pouted, focusing on your hands in your lap as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.
Dean debated for a moment, focusing on what you were feeling. There were a few different things he could say, but now was not the time to let the playful remarks slip out. He gently nudged your chin with his finger and thumb, so you met his gaze, trying not to let another tear slip out.
“Things will be okay. Why don’t we just take this week and a half and just relax? I know that you’ll have to call Crowley, and we’ll be down here past my birthday. But hey, think of this time as a little vacation from the world. It’s different now,” he tried to soothe you, giving you that soft smile that brought a small one to your lips.
He knew the kind of grip your fear had on you; hell, it wanted to consume him. Gently pulling you against his chest, he let out a sigh, trying to find the right words, but he was pretty sure nothing he could say would help you right now. So, he just held you close, gently rubbing small circles on your upper arm with his thumb.
“I don’t know how not to be afraid,” you eventually mumbled. The nightmare you’d had the night before felt like parts of it were playing on repeat in your head, along with what Pamela had said. You just weren’t sure what the consistent was, so you weren’t sure what part of it would happen.
“Why don’t we just take it one day at a time?” he suggested softly.
You moved a little so you could look into his eyes. The sincerity and hope there made you smile a little. I just want to see you smile. The whispered words made your smile grow, your fears and worries slowly slipping away as you let his hope, love, and compassion wash through the connection. It was like the gentle waves as they lapped over the sands of a beach.
“Now, I’m gonna go make us breakfast. You wanna change or just lounge in pajamas all day?” he asked, feeling that soft contentment as you relaxed.
Deciding to focus on not being stressed over things you had no control over, you chose playfulness, tapping your chin with your finger, pretending to think. “Hmm…” you hummed, pausing playfully. “Pajamas, because I’m pretty sure you’ll tease me,” your words came out a little sassy, pulling a playful smirk to his lips.
Again, he was fighting with his thoughts. God, it’s gonna be a long week. The thought made you almost laugh, knowing you weren’t going to make him wait that long. He let his fingers find your ribs, gripping them in just the right way, tickling you. With a squeal, you attempted to get off his lap, but he held you in place.
He hadn’t moved his hand, but the anticipation that kept building was what was driving you absolutely crazy. However, when he leaned in close with that look in his eyes, a shiver went down your spine. “You know, anticipation works on other things, too,” his voice was low, rough, tinged with that teasing that made the butterflies dance in your stomach.
Taking a shaky breath, attempting to focus on anything other than what he was hinting at or the fact that his hand was still holding your ribs. All he had to do was grip, and he could tickle you again. “Thought you were gonna make breakfast,” you told him quickly, unable to hide the joy that was coursing through you at how he had lightened the mood.
The laughter started deep in his chest before filling the room, “Yeah, breakfast.” Not when I’ve got you right where I want you. He couldn’t help himself, though, gripping your ribs enough to make you squeal and try to get away from him. The sound brought that joy to his soul, soothing any stress left in him.
“Stop!” you yelled playfully, squirming in his lap as he held you there. His other hand found the crook in your hip, squeezing down and making you scream at how ticklish you were there.
Luckily, he didn’t tease you long. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt your wrists, and you were trying to stop him, even knowing it was impossible. The man was far stronger than you. Plus, the way you squirmed on his lap was causing another issue to arise. He snaked his arms around your waist, the two of you attempting to catch your breath for different reasons.
“Alright, Sweetheart. I’ll go get breakfast going,” he told you, trying to calm his racing heart. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before scooping you up and gently setting you on the couch after he stood. I love you, your whispered words in his mind bringing a wider smile to his lips, trying to push away thoughts he couldn’t act on, not yet anyway.
And that was about how the next several days went. There were board games, watching movies, tickle fests, which you even got him a few good times, and a couple games of pool. The playful banter that went back and forth had you both wound as the sexual tension grew between you. He never pushed anything too much, but he did give it an encouraging nudge. Dean would hold you when you did the dishes, so you would return that when he would cook.
The two of you settled into a comfortable routine. So far, the nightmare hadn’t come back, and the monitors also hadn’t gone off unless it was an animal going about its business. Your fears were slowly slipping away. Being close to him was getting easier the more he bantered with you. So much so that three days before his birthday, when he kissed you after your evening movie, you didn’t pull away after a few moments. You had wanted so badly just to let go of all your fears at that moment, but you couldn’t, even with your body humming from how he touched you. The moment you went to apologize, he gently pressed his finger over your lips and shook his head.
“I told you, I can wait till you’re ready,” he told you in a soft, sincere whisper. His breathing was heavy, but he meant it; he’d truly wait till you were ready. For now, he’d have his fantasies and enjoy the feeling of your desire as it danced with his own. “How about you go crawl in bed? I’ll be there in a bit,” he added, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep unless he took care of himself.
A blush crept into your cheeks as you bit your bottom lip. I wish I could just let go. It was the one thought that kept going through your head like a repeat record player. Dean gave you that half smile before leaving a tender kiss on your forehead. Don’t make me carry you. His teasingly playful threat made you chuckle. “Alright, I’m going.” You left a soft kiss on his cheek before going to your room, mostly closing it so he had more privacy.
The tip Pamela had given you, about picturing a bubble around you, was something you had been practicing. So, as you climbed into bed, you pictured that bubble again, needing to have some time so your body could cool down from the fire he always ignited. Lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, you slowed your breathing, picturing a bubble around you. It was an odd sensation after feeling Dean’s emotions for nearly a week now. The connection was still there, and you could feel the thread, but the emotions that passed through it diminished. As you were focusing on how different it felt, Dean gently pushed the door open, a little apprehensive.
“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asked, pulling you from your concentration, effectively popping the bubble. “What was that?”
You watched him as he crawled into the bed next to you, rolling onto your side. “I was practicing that bubble thing. I probably should warn you so you don’t get so concerned,” you replied sincerely, giving him the soft smile that helped the tension ease from his shoulders.
Dean pulled you closer, the physical contact bringing the relief he needed after feeling the connection diminishing. “Yeah, a heads up will help,” he sighed out, focusing on the way you felt in his arms and the way your emotions danced with his again.
“I can remember,” you told him softly, kissing his cheek tenderly before getting fully comfortable tucked against him. “Get some sleep,” you murmured sleepily.
It took him a few minutes to completely relax again. One minute, he had felt your emotions dancing with his, the desire mingling, and then there was almost nothing. For a moment, he thought something had happened, even being in the bunker. I’ll be thankful when we don’t have to worry anymore. He wasn’t sure how far into sleep you had drifted, but the peace that washed over him like a warm blanket began pulling him off to the dreamworld as well. A quiet hum slipped out as you drifted off to sleep.
You had no idea where you were. It was a town, and it was nighttime. There were a few street lights that cast an eerie yellow glow along the deserted street. What the hell? Looking around, the town seemed deserted. Cautiously, you headed toward the only place that looked open, a gas station several blocks away. There were no sounds like you would typically hear at night, like crickets or owls. Goosebumps prickled along your skin as you rubbed your arms, trying to get them to go away. The closer to the gas station you got, the more a knot began twisting in your gut. Something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. The night air was warm against the chill that settled down your spine when you crossed the street. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot or at any of the four pumps. Your heart pounded as your breathing became shallow and shaky. Swallowing hard, you made your way to the front of the gas station, only close enough to look inside. There was one person inside, a guy behind the counter that you’d never seen before. Other than that, the place looked empty. Oddly enough, that seemed to steady your nerves, letting out a sigh. You turned and looked back down the way you’d come, then further in the direction past the gas station. Where am I? You stood outside, debating going in and talking to the cashier or just heading in the direction you were drawn to, past the gas station. Slipping your hands into the pockets of your jeans, you headed further down the deserted street. The further away you got from the gas station, the more surreal everything felt. A few blocks later, you noticed a motel across the street, Dean’s Impala, parked in front of one of the rooms. Quizically, you tilted your head a bit. Now utterly confused, you made your way across the parking lot to the room, taking note of the number seven on the door. First, you tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Then, you felt around your pockets, noticing something in one of the back ones you hadn’t felt earlier. Slowly, you pulled out the item, taking a shaky breath, seeing it was a key to the door. Your stomach began knotting up, like something was horribly wrong. Slowly, you unlocked the door but looked over your shoulder, feeling like you were being watched. Dean’s car was gone, replaced by something else. This one was a new model Jeep that you didn’t recognize. As your brows furrowed in confusion, the door was pulled open from the inside. Just as you were attempting to regain your balance and see who had opened the door, someone grabbed you, dragging you into the room. They weren’t gentle about it either. You even attempted to fight against their hold. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean, but it was a guy, and he was far stronger than you. “Now, you’re mine,” his voice was low, pleased, but with a cruel undertone. “First, you’ll be bait. I need to sever that connection.”
Your scream reverberated off the walls of the bedroom, echoing through the bunker as you bolted upright in bed. Unable to take a deep breath, you clung to the blankets as Dean’s arms wrapped around you. “Shhh.. Sweetheart,” he began softly, images flashing through his mind. “I’ve got you. It was a nightmare.” However, you both knew the truth. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a premonition.
----------------------------------------- Chapter 31
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@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373
@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity
@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah
@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @reignsboy19
@bonbonnie88 @ghostieghoul711 @flamencodiva @kayleezee @stillhere197
@lexasaurs634 @enamoredwithbella @winchester-whiskey @brandinicole911
@megs-gadom @dianawinchester03 @nikimisery @cheekygirl2309 @ashleybutler
@deans-baby-momma @bobbdylan @tommysaxes @likedbygaslyy
If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.
#soulmate au#soulmates#oc reader#spn oc#supernatural oc#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#spnfandom#spn fic#spn#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fandom#supernatural fic#supernatural series#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x femaleoc#dean winchester x oc#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x reader#dean fanfiction#dean x female!reader#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean x you
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saw the tags on your rb, and as a fellow "connor bedard has autism" headcanoner, i would love to know more of your thoughts 😈
it's less of a headcanon and more of a divinely correct vibe check. but like am i wrong...???? although I do see it more as they're the same flavour of ND with different presentations, like Connor is hyperfocus ADHD, and Macklin is inattentive (this comes from someone with mixed presentation ADHD¹, they also tried to diagnose me with austim but my legs were too long i make eye contact BUT!!! 93rd% "indicating that Cassie has many behavioural characteristics similar to youth diagnosed with ASD." raaaaa 💪💪💪 93% is an A!! i ace even the tests i fail!!!) Plus his rigidity with his diet, is bonkers for someone that young (and it's been going on since he was like 14-15)
Like especially with the way that Connor's constant practicing, after practice until the zamboni kicks him off, and then on off days and optional skates hiding his gear to make him take days off?? that is pretty classic hyperfocus ADHD. And especially with the way he blames the teams loses on himself, like please sir seeing you in the mirror is not good for my health!!
And with Macklin, people often mischaracterize inattentive ADHD with not being motivated or good at routine and while yes those two things are a normal part of human life, and more-so with ADHD, he has shown many times how deeply he cares about hockey........ but I think (and also remember i am projecting) his father being THAT hands on with him and his brothers training (even now which yuck, you have your own job get your grubby paws off of your kid's job) has made him unable to self propel, and get himself into that routine? (AND AGAIN I AM PROJECTING) like something Macklin has said a few times is how the shift to a pro-hockey schedule has been hard, and yes it is an adjustment, but he has been essentially living away from his parents for YEARS, two years boarding at Shattuckk, one year (presumably) billeting in Chicago while playing in the USHL, and one year in college at BU, and I think the real shift is that... daddy is planning his workouts again, full time not just summers (also, the travaling doesn't help) AND THAT (i am projecting) is HELL to someone who built a routine, and any hope of getting back into one was dashed when he went of IR for his hip after one game. the boy needs CONSISTENCY!!!!! And until they get him 1) away from his freak father who has his hands al over his development plan, and 2) on simple routine with max five types of days (home game, home practice, home rest, away game, away rest) he will not get situated.
BACK TO BEDARD <33333
the man loves rules and procedures. him at his first training camp all doe eyed and "wanting to make the team!" so much that Kyle Davidson... maybe it was Luke Richardson who said it...??? either way his coach or his GM pulled aside his MOTHER to tell them that they needed to start looking at apartments. Before getting drafted it was never "when" it was "if i get drafted".... like dude.... it's gonna happen! Whenever he get's sen't to the box its always a "they hate me, don't they know I am unable to break rules!! not because they don't apply to me but because I can NOT break rules!" vibe (I am only kinda projecting on this one)
and I do think the type of media around them during their developmental years up has affected them, Macklin's media was always focused on his father, which reinforced his reliance/dependence on him, whereas Connor's was focused on him which encouraged him to focus on himself and what HE can do to improve.
also Connor has that DOG IN HIM
^ connor bedard real not fake (also my childhood psychologist had this PROMENENTLY displayed in her office and i think seeing it every two weeks had an adverse affect on me)
¹ and a bunch of other learning disorders, dyslexia, dysgraphia, dyscalculia, audio processing disorder, also anxiety, depression, and cutie patootie disease (fatal 😔)
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A pre-relationship piece. TW for some discussion of abuse, but nothing detailed.
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Pebbles - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic
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"I can see why this is your favourite spot," Rook said, gazing out at the bustling city below. "Treviso looks stunning from up here. I never got to explore this part of the city as a child."
Lucanis smiled as they sat together on the rooftop. "Illario and I would come up here and throw pebbles at the people below—until Caterina caught us," he said, smirking. "It was his idea, of course."
Rook laughed softly. "Yes, that does seem like something he would do," she said, turning to him with a knowing smile. "But you should have known better."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city below filling the air. Then Rook spoke again. "Must have been hard, growing up with Caterina. She seems like a formidable woman. If your training was anything like mine…" Rook trailed off, her voice softening as she caught herself.
Lucanis regarded her for a moment, his gaze steady but unreadable. "She’s my grandmother, but yes, it was difficult. At the time, I hated her. She was impossible to please, and like most Crows, I suffered. But what made it worse," he said, his tone lowering, "was when she’d turn around and tell me it was because she cared for me. It was… confusing."
"I understand," she said quietly, though her voice carried the weight of her memories.
"And you?" Lucanis asked, his gaze lingering on her. "I learned a little from Viago. He may have called you 'his idiot,' but don’t take it personally. If he ever stops using that word, then you should start worrying." His smirk softened as he added, "You were eight when you joined House de Riva?"
"My parents were killed while they were trading here," Rook said, her gaze fixed on the city below. "We were walking back to our accommodations when some mercenaries jumped them. I don’t remember much of that evening." She hesitated, "But I do remember using my magic for the first time—trying to help my mother."
Her hand drifted to her lap, her fingers fidgeting as she spoke. "I would have been killed too if it hadn’t been for a Crow that… intervened." The word lingered, heavy with meaning. "House de Riva took me in—gave me a home, a place to sleep. But they never addressed what I’d witnessed. Instead, they used it, reminded me of that night, to push me harder in training." She glanced at Lucanis, her expression conflicted. "I’m grateful, but like you said, it’s strange to feel grateful to people who also hurt you."
"We have things in common, it seems," his voice thoughtful. "I lost my parents young, but unlike you, I had family." He glanced at her, his expression softening. "You were alone in a city that wasn’t your own, surrounded by strangers you had no choice but to rely on." He paused, his dark eyes lingering on hers. "Admirable resilience for someone so young, Rook."
"I get a compliment Dellamorte? I’ll take it—Viago doesn’t hand those out too often."
"Oh, you’re his favourite; that’s why he’s harder on you," Lucanis leaned back on his hands. "Besides, you have me by your side now. That’d terrify him more—he and I, we have a history."
"By my side? Is this just Crow loyalty, or… something else?" she mused, glancing down at the city. Her heart fluttered as the question lingered, unspoken feelings stirring beneath her curiosity.
He regarded her quietly for a moment before replying, his tone unreadable. "As I said, there are plenty of reasons to work with you. Some, I admit, might be more out of self-interest than others."
"Self-interest? I can work with that," she said, smiling at him.
Lucanis didn’t respond, and she hadn’t expected him to. Silence fell again, broken only by the faint hum of the city. She noticed him digging into his pocket.
"I almost forgot," he said, pulling out a small handful of pebbles and offering them to her.
"I wondered why you were picking those up when we walked here."
He smiled playfully. "Whoever can hit that merchant’s stall three times in a row buys the coffee later. Bonus points if you can land one in the bowl of mackerel."
Rook raised a brow, taking a pebble. "The fish? Now you’re just trying to show off."
Lucanis rolled a pebble between his fingers. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see if you're up for the challenge." He tossed the pebble lightly in the air and caught it, his gaze darting to the stall below. "Your move."
Rook narrowed her eyes, "Oh, I’m more than up for it."
She aimed, letting the pebble fly. It bounced off the corner of the merchant's stall, missing her mark by inches. "Damn it," she muttered, biting back a laugh.
He chuckled, leaning forward. "Close, but not quite. Watch and learn." With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, his pebble sailed down, landing with a soft plunk in the bowl. He tossed another pebble in the air looking decidedly smug.
"My coffee’s going to taste even better knowing you’re paying for it."
#lucanis dellamorte#rook#lucanis x rook#antivan crows#rookanis#dragon age the veilguard#rookanisfanfic#keely de riva#tw abuse#fluff#mild flirting
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Never grow up
Summary: When the youngest Hughes misses the relationship she had with her brothers before hockey was the priority.
Canton, MI📍
May 18th, 2023
4:38pm
Madeline stood before her graduating class at Canton Highschool, she never realized how hard highschool was without her brothers by her side. Now she stands at the podium preparing to say a speech, or a relay of the essay she wrote that got her into NYU.
“Good morning students, staff, faculty and my fellow graduates, today is a special day, for many. These past 4 years have changed my life completely and today, I’d like to share the reason I’m here.“
she took a breath while flattening her paper against the stand.
“I remember vividly the days we spent in Toronto, a tight-knit group of siblings with big dreams and even bigger imaginations. Quinn, the eldest, always leading the way with his determination and drive. Jack, the middle child, bringing laughter and mischief to our days. And Luke, the youngest before me, with his infectious energy and spirit. We were a team, unstoppable in our bond and unity. If you haven’t guessed yet, this is about my brothers”
A few chuckles were heard while the three brothers sit front row, looking back and forth to each other.
“But now, things have changed. They've all ventured into the world of professional hockey, achieving remarkable success and fame. Meanwhile, I'm still here, navigating the complexities of high school, feeling the weight of their achievements press down on me. It's like I'm running a different race, one where I struggle to keep up with their pace as they sprint ahead to glory.”
“There are moments when I long for the past, for those carefree days when we were all together, sharing secrets, dreams, and laughter. I miss the times when they would confide in me, when we were each other's biggest supporters. The distance that fame and adulthood have brought between us leaves me yearning for the simplicity of our childhood, where the only competition was who could score the winning goal in our backyard games.”
The whole Hughes family had small tears in their eyes, including Madelines.
“Yet, amidst the longing and the sense of being left behind, I find a quiet gratitude within me. Their absence has taught me to stand on my own, to navigate the challenges of growing up without relying on their shadows. I've learned to face harsh realities and tough situations with a strength I never knew I had, all because they showed me the way by moving forward. So, in a way, I thank them for unknowingly pushing me to grow and discover my own path in this journey called life.
Thank you Canton Highschool, you really taught me the ups and downs of life, but even more thank you to my family” she smiled and stepped back, hearing applause.
Stepping down to her chair, she could only think about what they would if they were there, she had no idea.
She saw her parents standing by the exit, then 3 very familiar guys in suit right next to them.
The sound of her heels clicking against the floor drowned out as she sped up along with her heart. Quinn noticed her first and stepped infront of the family, she just about leapt into his arms, clinging to him like he’s going to slip away if she lets go.
“Maddy” he whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks quietly.
“I didn’t tell anyone” she mumbles back before stepping back, only for Jack to swoop in and grapple her in a hug, she let out a “oomph” at the impact.
“I’m sorry” he mumbles.
“Don’t please, it’s over now”
Luke stood patiently waiting for his turn. They had become the closets of the siblings before he started university, he felt horrible that she went through such a thing and didn’t tell him.
As soon as she looked at him, guilt washed over her.
“Lu” she hummed as she reached over to hug him.
“You didn’t tell me”
“I know, but I didnt want you to feel bad that I was feeling bad. But hey-” she leaned back.
“NYU is just 15 minutes away, okay?”
“okay, or you know you could just switch to online and leave with me and-”
“no chance- sorry, I love you two, I really do I just still need my space. But maybe I’ll live down the street”
“Deal”
“What about me?” Quinn asked while ruffling her hair. “If I’m in online I can travel whenever I need to, oh- and Vancouver has that really cute book store I like” she smiles while he chuckles at her.
#hockey#luke hughes#jack hughes#new jersey devils#quinn hughes#jh86#lh43#qh43#vancouver canucks#hughes sister#hughes brothers
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Please tell me something about the Shape of Water AU I'm very curious
this is just the doc title for my "100 Feet and a World Away" AU! I have the lore post linked in my pinned.
tldr: the boys get kidnapped young and raised in a lab by humans who aren't aware they have human level intelligence, and they try to escape.
I posted a bit about Donnie (aka Turtle Four) eating french fries awhile ago but here, have the rest of the scene too:
April unwraps something. The smell assaults his nose - greasy meat, cheese, that red vegetable he’s seen sometimes - and he slips into the water and swims over, popping out just shy of the fence.
“I’m sorry, are you eating during our escape planning meeting?”
“Don’t start with me,” she says, holding up a hand. “I had to work through breakfast to catch up on my homework for my morning classes, then work through lunch to catch up on my homework for my afternoon classes, and then I worked through dinner to catch up on everything else.” She takes a bite, chews, swallows. “This is the first chance I’ve had to eat all day.”
“Huff! Fine. But did you have to bring something with so much…” he flails his hands, “smell?”
“It’s just a burger. What, you never had a burger before?”
He stares at her. She catches his eye, and then lowers her gaze.
“Right. Stupid question.”
“Sometimes the humans bring those. The burgers, you said? They eat them around noon.” He thinks of it with distaste. He can remember exactly which of the humans tend to chew with their mouths open, or talk with food in their mouths. It makes him feel slimy when he watches.
“We call that “lunch”,” April says. She looks at the burger, then back at Four. It’s with an expression he doesn’t understand, but he’s noticed from her more and more. “Do you want to try it?”
He hesitates. He doesn’t know if he wants to or not. The smell is overwhelming, and he isn’t sure how it will taste. How it will feel, in his mouth.
No one ever offers him food, though.
“...I’m perfectly fine with my nutrition blocks,” he finally says.
“Oh come on, Donnie, that’s not food.”
“It is. It gives me all the vitamins and minerals I need. And…” He stumbles over what he wants to say. He hates when he does that, but he doesn’t know the words for what he’s trying to convey. He wishes he had a bigger vocabulary. He wishes he were allowed to read.
Wishes get him nowhere. He has to focus on the task at hand. Only, April doesn’t seem to want to continue with their escape planning unless he makes a decision about the burger.
“...And?” she prompts, startling him.
“...I don’t know… some food… feels weird,” he finally says.
“Feels weird?”
“In my mouth.”
For a moment she just stares at him. He guesses he must have said something weird. Humans must not care about how food feels in their mouth. Maybe that’s just a turtle thing.
Or maybe his brothers don’t think that way either. Maybe it’s just a Four thing.
But then April’s eyes go a little wider, and she says, “Ooooh. You have texture issues, huh?”
“Texture?”
“Yeah. How the food feels. Some people get really bothered by it; guess you do, too.”
Oh. So it’s not just a Four thing. There’s a whole name for it. He learned something new! How exciting!
“Yes!” he declares. He feels more confident about it now. “I have texture issues!”
She laughs at that. It’s not a mean laugh. He’s not sure why what he said was funny, though, but before he can ask she’s tearing off a small piece of the meat on the side of the burger she didn’t bite.
“Here. Just try it.” She slips it through the gaps in the chain-link, where he can get to it. “If it feels bad, you can just spit it out. I won’t be mad.”
She’s always telling him that. That she won’t be mad. He doesn’t know why; he’s never seen her get mad, at least not at him. But she always tells him that anyway.
It makes him feel better, somehow, even though that’s illogical.
He takes the meat gingerly in his fingers and looks at it. It doesn’t look particularly appetizing. The smell is a lot, but not so bad now that he’s getting used to it. He likes meat - not that he’s had it much. Maybe it will be fine.
He puts it in his mouth and immediately knows it isn’t. He doesn’t like the way the meat falls apart. He can’t describe it, he just knows it’s wrong.
He spits it out. April said she wouldn’t be mad.
“No good, huh?” she asks. She doesn’t sound mad.
“No. It was bad, actually.”
“Hmm, alright…” She glances around, then grabs the sack and pulls out something else: a small container of something thin and golden brown. “Wanna try a french fry?”
“A french fry?”
“It’s just a fried potato.” She pulls one of the thin stick-things (french fry) out of the container and pokes it through the fence. “Here!”
He takes it, looking it over suspiciously. It has the same greasy smell as the burger, but it’s not meat, it’s “potato,” so it must have a different texture.
He nibbles the end, and oh.
It’s actually good!
He devours the rest of the fry. She laughs again, and when he looks back at her she’s smiling.
“Alright, so the fries are a winner. Here, have some more!”
She slips a few more through the fence, and then a few more. Four happily eats all the fries she passes him. They taste nothing like the nutrition blocks, they taste better than the nutrition blocks, and they don’t feel bad in his mouth, not even a little.
“When I get out of here,” he says, after downing the last one, “I’ll eat like this every day.”
“Maybe not fries every day. They’re pretty unhealthy.” She shrugs. “But there’s all kinds of other things out there for you to try! We’ll figure out all the foods you like to eat.”
#100 feet and a world away#writer ask game#everyone else projects their autistic traits onto donnie#now it's my turn#specifically I'm giving him my exact food sensitivies#I remember when my parents would tell me 'that's not a thing'#when I told them food felt weird#then they met an adult who had similar texture sensitivities#after that they listened better
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The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.
#also idk how to tell you this but even if it were true. wealthy children potentially sacrificing their educational careers to protest is#a good thing actually. idk how to tell you that caring about people from other nations is good#personal#“this war has nothing to do with most students cuz nobody's getting drafted” idk how to explain to you that we should be angry#that our tuitions of 10s of thousands of dollars that we pay every year for an education is being used to fund a genocidal campaign#also the implication that if you go to a uni institution you are automatically privileged by participation no matter your bg#i didn't /want/ to go to this school. i was supposed to go to a school with an art/animation program. but i realized my immigrant#parents have been working their whole lives to get me here. and turning the opportunity down would be a disservice to their sacrifice#this is getting into convos of “what 2nd gen kids owe their parents” which is different for everyone but. yeah#i just get pissed off at seeing people misrepresenting student bodies as “wealthy” and “privileged” and “elite” when it's such a blatant li#i remember a year ago a friend told me they can't fly home to hong kong for winter break because the plane tickets are too expensive#so they have to find temporary housing around the area#last quarter for a film doc class my film partner made a doc on a small group of marxist grad students from india discussing praxis#during a rally a few months ago in response to police presence the coalition invited palestinian students to speak about their experiences#and lead songs and read poems they wrote. these are STUDENTS. are they elitist too?#this is not to disregard my own personal privilege either.#this whole narrative's just to rationalize a lack of empathy to me. seeing a 19yo student get shot by a rubber bullet and your first#reaction is “HAW! HAW! bet richy rich didn't see THAT coming when she put on her terrorist hood!”#newsflash. these big uni campuses are HAUNTED by the violence of past protests and revolutions and police brutality. we know.#why do you think these coalitions have been making reinforced barricades at record speed
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"Minthara is so abusive to the player" *INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE*
Minthara would literally go to fucking hell for the opportunity to personally beat the absolute shit out of the person who actually did abuse you. She will throw hands with gods and devils just to avenge you.
And you will not be able to convince her not to.
#bg3#baldur's gate#minthara#minthara baenre#evil murder kitten#when i'm having a bad day - i just remind myself that minthara would definitely have some things to say about my parents#i would literally have to hold her back from knocking their lights out#well... id hold her back from one of them. she can have free reign of the other#all you gotta do is whisper a name - and babygurl is gonna go fix it#within 48 - 72 hours - your abuser will go missing under mysterious circumstances#and you do not even need to tell her to do this#she will do everything she can to ensure you can sleep at night knowing your abuser is gone#and can never touch you again#and if you still have doubts - just remember that she made an oath (a divine vow) *to you*#in which she will never harm you nor allow harm to come to you#and to quite literally seek vengeance against all those who have harmed you#ya'll can miss me with your minthara hatecanons and your poorly misunderstood readings of her and the comments taken outta context
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I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.
But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.
As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?
oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be
Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot
Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)
Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.
Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up
Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.
Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.
Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.
#necrotic answerings#canon vs fanon#batfanon#batfamily#I was *going* to include “Janet and Jack Drake are bad parents”#then realized I don't really like that fanon anymore.#but I used to go *hard* for it even knowing it wasn't canon. it was all projection but still#nowadays I think the tragedy of Tim losing his parents the way he did is *far* worse if they loved him and were good to him.#I'm so serious about the Kon thing i've had *nasty* arguments where ppl got so rude to me telling me to “Google it”#like listen I get it. kon's canon backstory is currently difficult to understand#the timeline of the superboy mantle is a little confusing and most people have not read young justice (2019)#so for fanon it's far easier to simplify it as “clark just kinda sucks to kon” and i enjoy that#but the canon is also fun. it's fun when you consider how fucked up it is most people don't remember kon#and the timeline he remembers doesn't exist anymore.#also technically since they never killed off new-52!superboy on page there could be two superboys/kon-els running around rn. who knows.#i like to believe there is bc it's funny.#i have wanted to write a new-52!konkon/tim/kon sandwich#with the “is it selfcest or not” question#bc new-52!kon wasn't a clone of clark and lex.#so like. he's arguably a different character just sharing the name kon-el for some reason#also on the nightwing: renegade thing i know *damn* well most fanon-only fans haven't read it (no shade in that)#bc the fanon crowd despises devin grayson and she wrote it.#one day i'll write a meta about fandom treatment of devin grayson trust me.#this question was SO fun#i feel like i should have more answers?#if you'd asked me like six months ago this list would be three times as long#but the more i exist in this fandom somehow the saltier i get idk what's happening#so now i'm more and more attached to canon#but i will never begrudge someone for liking fanon#like i said my issue with it is the confusion of what is canon
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Presenting day 3, Thad!
For this one i wanted to draw Thad and Bart doing some of the terrible shenanigans that my sister and I got into when we were kids.
#the time she shot me in the eye with a toy arrow seemed too... arrowfam#that time she tried to smother me with a pillow seemed like it would cover up too much of Bart#so i went with that time when her driving threw me off the back of the golf cart and I landed on my neck!#(it was fine-i walked it off. we did Not tell the parents)#despite all the murder attempts when we were kids se and i are besties now no worries#also two out of three of those things were not actually murder attempts they were just us having v bad ideas#remember when i said i was trying to be restrained for this week???#absolutely i traced that golf cart tho#if u ever catch me freehanding a vehicle no u didn't that's not me#gotta post this before I find five more things to do on it#thad thawne#bart allen#bartallenweek#arting with nik
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#they speak!#it's probably just the illness that's making me extra irritable but like.#roommate kept coming up to me this morning going oh did i wake you up? i'm sorry if i did. did i do that or no? i'm really sorry.#and i kept telling him to stop saying sorry because i didn't have the brain power to phrase#'you could've been more considerate of your volume but you also have the right to use the common space so it's whatever'#but he said it to me again before i went to my room just now and it's like. ok. shut up.#if you actually cared that much u would've just been quieter in the first place actually.#anyways. annoyed. there were some annoying customers in the store today but it was whatever.#i feel like my fucks to give had already worn out with all the ppl in my social circle/my parents and the recent ongoings of that#[redacted] was being passive aggressive to me in the group chat and it's like. ok! idk what u want from me.#and i'm grateful for them for coming over and helping me with cleaning last week#and it's those sorts of actions that let me know they care and want good things for me#but like. i haaaate telling them anything because even innocuous non-private things get turned into judgement with them.#also. more and more i can feel how i'm drifting away from h and now with retrospect i can see how we mutually hurt each other :)#i keep coming back to this one period where i really wanted to take them to try dimsum and they kept saying they were too scared to try it#and in their new friend group they regularly go out n get dimsum together. which on the surface is like. why didn't you want to go with /me#i told you i wanted to share what i liked and i would explain what things were and i could do the talking and you still said no#but it's also very much a reflection of how i always rolled over and enabled them. i never challenged them. i was always passive.#i also feel like i'm heavily neglecting e and a recently and i can tell how the physical distance is affecting us and idk. it's weird.#anyways. another post that should've been a journal entry! lol!#when [redacted] helped with cleaning they also buried my journal under my like#300 packets of sesame candies and i can't be bothered to dig it out. also my bandaids are missing now. <3#ik this also sounds passive aggressive but genuinely appreciate the help i just kinda hate how they think hidin everything in boxes is good#'we need to get you some more storage boxes and containers!!' actually i think that will be the opposite of helpful.#i need everything visible and on open surfaces so i can 1) remember they exist for me to use and 2) not have barriers for me to get to them
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one of the most infuriating things that happens in discussions about trans people is like, when a transphobe talks about how its just SOOOO easy to access gender affirming care, it's so easy to get on hrt or get referred for surgery etc... some of you dense motherfuckers respond to this by saying "no!!! it's not easy!!!! its so hard!!!" & listen. i KNOW that it IS HARD for many of us. and in many places it's getting harder. but tell me this: isn't the goal, eventually, to make it easy? not just easier than right now, but genuinely easy for a transgender person to access the care they need on whatever timeline they want, no matter how fast or slow? so if you spend all your time right now combating transphobia by insisting that transition is difficult and taxing and traumatizing, what are you going to do if and when it's none of those things? if there is no endless suffering and million hoops?
when someone says "it's too easy to transition" in order to justify their own transphobia, and you say "no it's not", you're also saying "if it were, your feelings would be justified". which is already kind of a terrible implication without taking into consideration that what most of these people mean by "too easy" is "possible". they mean that you can transition and they don't want you to. point blank. when you say it's difficult, they think "good. it should be harder". it will never be difficult enough to not be easy to them.
i am literally so sick & tired of all of us throwing each other under the bus in order to advocate for a future that is fucking miserable and awful. when someone tells you their nightmare scenario is transgender people being happy, you should not be responding to that by reassuring them that actually, transgender people are miserable and always have been and always will. when someone complains about how easy transition is you should say "good". we are never getting out of this fucking crab bucket if we're not only pulling each other down but also telling other people that pushing us back in would be fine if we were a little closer to the top.
#good idea generator#one thing i vividly remember is like. back when i read discourse blogs for fun (never do this btw this did irreparable damage to my psyche)#i saw an argument between a t*rf who had detransitioned and a trans person#where she was complaining it was too easy for her to transition and he was accusing her of lying about her transition#because he was like 'its not that easy. it cannot be that easy it never is you're lying'#but the thing was she and i had had nearly identical transitions like very similar timelines#the only thing she had that i didnt was parental support from the outset (my parents are cool btw we have long since worked it out. im js)#and it was infuriating to me that the person on my side who was arguing for my community was essentially saying#that i should have had it harder. that it wasnt possible for it to be like that#especially considering i dont think my transition was 'easy'!! certainly 'easier' than some people#but like 'easy' is so subjective and in this context mostly reliant on your own feelings and experiences#and i was not having a very easy time when starting my transition i would say#also her argument was bad in other ways made me furious that he resorted to accusing her of lying#like great now she'll run back to her t*rf friends and theyll all talk about how we live in an echo chamber#we have to stop telling people it's their moral duty to argue with bigots because some of you are terrible at it
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Applying to an apartment with little income and terrible credit score, in hopes that they'll be desperate enough to take me
#im not even getting my hopes up for this one folks#but this same company rook me when i had no rental history so maybe?#unlikely for the aforementioned piss poor income and credit score#im just praying they remember me feom when i used to rent from them and liked me enough then to take me again#the bathroom is not in the apartment btw#that's the wildest thing. like its a basic studio with a kitchen closet and main area#but you have to go across the hall. to the private bathroom#im hoping they realize that thats wild and give me the apartment#i neeeeed to leave my parents house. and i really miss that city the apartment is in#i wish there was a little essay section where i could tell the landlord how much i like the city#and that ill get a better job once i live there and my parents are going to pay my first month and security deposit#that would be nice#i applied knowing that i won't get it but also knowing that i cant get it if i dont try#mostly i just miss that city#there was a really nice coffee shop within walking distance of my apartment#(the apartment i applied to is next door to the building i used to live in so same area which is great)#but i didnt have wifi so i would go there a lot to do work. it was so cozy in the winter especially#and i went on a lot of walks. so i wiuld swing by there and grab a drink to sip on my walk#and it was literally within sight of a great lake. a literal great lakw of Michigan lol#i loved walking along the lake on a nice day. or a windy day and just watch the waves crash#and my favorite band is feom that city so i got to see so many of their performances. and theyre a small band so the most i ever paid#was $50 and that was for the vip package. i saw them for $10 once. and free once. and $50 for the vip#its a big art and music city and i love it so much. i miss it so fucking much and i regret leaving#but at least it made me realize that no other city is for me. that city is my home#oh and it was literally right next to a bug beautiful library that i loved to wander. i still have my library card from there#mostly used it to print stuff and you have to pay at the box next to the printer. and one time i forgot to pay. i still feel bad about that#but i dont want to reminisce too much cuz i know i wont get it#im trying to pay off my credit cards to bring up my credit score but its slow going#its much nearer my gf and all my friends so i would love to live near them. rn im hours away from about everyone i love#i ran out of tags. maybe pray for me if you pray? or just hope for me. i dont want to let myself want this but its there
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When somebody only uses my chosen name while putting me down, it kind of makes me wish I didn't have a name at all.
And when somebody only uses my pronouns when they try to coerce me into something, then switch back to they/them when talking about me to anybody else, it kind of makes me uncomfortable af.
I sincerely do not enjoy being labeled or referred to. Being referred to is such a negative experience for me irl.
Yet not giving people a set of name/pronouns when they ask automatically seems to make them think you're secretly a serial killer trying to cover up something?????? Or like you're untrustworthy and must be hiding because you're a Bad Person instead of just not wanting to label yourself.
Can I just please not be forced to label myself for everybody else's comfort?
I feel like that information is so personally intimate anyways like unless you know me and we're close, why do you even care? I don't think it's necessary for the first stages of getting to know somebody even though in this culture we've normalized it to be that way.
Plus if I don't give you a name then I have the opportunity to earn one. Give me a name that you think I deserve and let it be what you honor me by instead! How about that? It's probably the only way I'll be comfortably perceived since some people will change my labels as they see fit regardless. Just call me what you like, I feel like my name/pronouns have been corrupted as is
#i feel weird about having a name and a gender and pronouns assigned to me.... such a weird thing to make a big deal#i mean it's a big deal as in you need to write names down for job apps#and when i walked in to request for emergency aid the person looking at my case asked for my pronouns#which just felt so irrelevant and it didn't make me feel any more respected#and i can tell some people are so uncomfortable using the pronouns that i say are mine that they'll opt out for ones they give me instead#which is like WHY DID YOU ASK IF YOU WERE JUST GOING TO DO THAT ANYWAYS#silly things just don't make sense and to me they bring more trouble than they're worth#those things have been used as weapons against me so why keep giving ammo yk?#also i like the process of earning a nickname#one time this girl got offended that i reffered to her as snake girl the second time we met and i was like???#imagine being offended that somebody remembered you for having 4 corn snakes instead of using your boring old name#like when people call me fuwa i feel like they're honoring me as a blogger#i get it i get it this culture is just so strictly uncreative and boring#if i had a cool new name from each person who knew me i would be so cool with that#like if somebody i met found out i liked sasuke and then started referencing to me as sasuke boy i would actually be so happy#idk dude#also sorry to that girl for calling her snake girl but honestly her loving her 4 snakes actually felt more significant to me than her name#in other cultures they refer to parents as “[insert child's name]'s mom/dad” and it's actually seen as being so respectful#like it's the family bond that gets honored instead of the individual and idk maybe some people take that to be a negative thing but#imagine as a parent loving your kid so much and then everybody identifies you as the parent who loves their kid#maybe that's dehumanizing in a sense idk#i see it as an honorable thing to be bestowed by others#yeah maybe people can be mean and call you “poop boy” for the one time you shit your pants while drunk#i get not liking being called “poop boy” but like dude... you're a legend and the story behind you earning that name would be legendary#idk i guess it's all about perspective#i don't know if I'm making sense#feel free to share thoughts#late night blogging
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#just an observation bc im avoiding working on stuff but i draw a lot and post basically everything i draw thst gets finished#and its v funny to me how u can tell how out of focus i was based on the quality of the drawing#or like when i post something and its like ok some of that was good but u def gave up halfway thru one of those lol#inconsistency i funny like that. its also funny to me that now a days i get comments like COLORS!!!#which is funny bc i notoriously haaaaaate coloring. like i will sit around whining and complaining when im home with my parents bc i dont#wanna color. its just so easy to fuck things up when u draw traditionally and it takes a million years so its a big ask lol#but i guess i dont hate is so much right now bc i kinda just slap whatever colors i want together like fuck it we ball#and thats kinda fun. reckless i suppose#its agony when u wanna try to do shadows and lights tho. like finding references ugh#or wanting to draw big ideas but then its like oh god its gonna take so long and if i dont do it all in one sitting i might die#im a lil better abt thst now bc it would b impossible but in my head i still hate it#ugh. all i wanna do is draw. theres another universe where i went to art school. or just like took art classes. and i wanna say id b happier#but thats def a lie XD i like learning too much and i dont have the attention span to hardcore learn genetics outside an academic#environment. and i got way too excited abt exploring the genetic traits of my cyano species#like i can make genetics trees for traits and look for. fuck. i forgot the word. how tf did i forget the word. oh god. horizontal gene#transfer. jesus christ its like theres a hole in my brain. well. i guess i did get only like 4hrs sleep. ugh im rambling.#i need to finish getting ready for Monday so i dont have to tomorrow and ill have time to draw. prob wont stop me feeling nauseous abt#teaching tho. OH FUCK. i just remembered i have a new office space now to decorate. fuck i need to hang up pictures and stuff#what would b the funniest way to put narut0 on my deskspace? idk ill have to think abt it. oh god im not ready#my head is like a handbell. one of the big ones when u ring it and it hits soft and u can feel the vibrations. someones wrung my head lol#unrelated
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