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soulmate-game · 3 years ago

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

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icestarphoenix · 2 years ago

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In your personification headcanons you said Florida would have started out as a woman as La Florida but over time changed to male, can you expand on that or is that as far as you have gone with that headcanon?

NOTE: I’m just going to say this now, I already know all this is going to sound “iffy.” I understand that gender identities, as well as romantic and sexual orientation aren’t something that can just change, people are born with it. Any sort of “change” in those is just someone finding out something new about themselves that was always there. However, in this case with supernatural creatures who aren’t human, these things can actually change if it lets the personification represent their people better.

Please let me know if there’s anything I need to tag.

So for all this it was mainly to give an example of how basically nothing about personifications is set in stone, not even gender identity or physical sex. They can’t control this, it just happens gradually and they’re along for the ride. I actually want more characters to have changed like this, or even be in the progress of doing so, I just don’t know who.

An example of this in terms of demographics changing would be if hypothetically, there was a community that started off with 50% male and 50% female. The personification that appeared for them had a physically male body as well as identified as male by random chance. However, over time more men left the community and more women joined, skewing the balance in favor of women. Eventually, this hypothetical community became 100% women. It wouldn’t really make sense for a personfication that identified as male to represent a community made entirely of people who identified as female. As such, the personification’s gender identity will gradually shift and she’ll start identifying as female. The body doesn’t necessarily have to change, but it can. The identity is something that will change though.

Perceptions about the community can also change things, which is what changed Florida. I had La Florida start with a female body and female identity, since la is used for feminine singular nouns. However, many people associate modern Florida with the Florida man stereotype, so Florida had changed to reflect that and now has a male body and also identifies as male. Names don’t automatically assign genders to personifications. I just found that they’re just a nice starting point to use in characterization, and things can change.

I think La Florida would’ve had fairly long hair at first, but as the gradual change happened, Florida would’ve found that he didn’t really like having long hair anymore and cut it. His now reptilian eyes and monster-like mouth are also a recent development to reflect the more wild reputation of the state.

#replies!#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard #wttt #wttsh #wttt florida

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therealvinelle · 3 years ago

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What other non-extinct magical species do you think exist besides vampires, shapeshifters, and like 3 children of the moon?

Not a lot.

More, I have absolutely no way of guessing here. We’re never given any hints or indications that creatures other than vampires, shapeshifters, and Children of the Moon exist, which means I’m as at a loss as you are.

I do think that, on the whole, since the world of Twilight appears identical to ours, that there can’t be any creatures left that would attract too much attention as they would have been discovered by modern technology. Sirens, for instance, would be found out by fog lights, cameras, recordings, you name it. Mermaids, on the other hand, could get away since much of the ocean remains unexplored.

This all being said, I can speculate.

Two things come to mind.

Gifted humans

I haven’t written the meta on what gifts are yet, but I’ll just state that I think gifts are magic. We see them adapt to a human’s needs, personality, or trauma, all according to what suits them best, and I don’t think the gift a vampire has is random. What a gift is appears to be malleable, as people with extreme needs (Renata, Bella, and Renesmée) will have gifts protecting them while others will have their gifts turned into something different if the incentive is strong enough (Jane and Alec). This points to gifts at the core being magic, capable of adapting a new state should the human bearer need it to. For vampires this malleability is lost, what you have is much more powerful than what you had as a human but you’re also stuck with it.

With the possible exception of Jane and Alec (good things happened to people who were kind to them, bad things to people who were cruel, and when they died it was their intent that turned these gifts into something else), humans are not able to control their gifts.

What I’m saying is, within the Twilight world some humans are magical. This is extremely rare, but it’s the best explanation I have for gifts.

Now onto thing the second.

Legends: where do they come from?

So, within the world of Twilight, most myths about vampires are fabricated. Coffins, bats, Christian iconography, a lot of it was made up by Aro. Unfortunately they couldn’t get wash these myths clean of the blood-drinking, the immortality, the something happening in the sun, or the incubi.

More, we see again and again in canon hat there are humans who know, legends are told. The fact that the blood-drinking couldn’t be erased entirely from myth is telling enough on its own.

No, vampires have left their footprint on human mythology, much to Aro’s chagrin.

Which is our door to speculation about which creatures still exist out there. Because if vampires left a footprint on mythologies within the Twilight world (which I remind you appears identical to ours, at least up until 2006), it is fair to assume other creatures have as well. It’s canon that the Children of the Moon did.

So, then, what can we assume?

First of, we must assume that a lot of mythic creatures identified as non-vampires, might actually have been vampires. It’s canon that the Egyptian pantheon was actually just Amun and his buddies, and I think that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Off the top of my head, the following creatures or afflictions could be vampires, at least the ones with a penchant for creative hunting:

Siren Otherworldly beautiful voices that lure in sailors to their deaths. Now, the legends say sirens are as hideous as their voices are beautiful, but that could be a warning among sailors, and even if it’s not it works since vampires are so inhuman-looking.

Nøkken The most beautiful man, sometimes horse, you ever did see, and he will lure you to a watery death.

Troll Far-fetched, but trolls are terribly strong and turn to stone in the sunlight. Within the world of Twilight, trolls could be the result of a game of telephone.

Ghost People long dead are seen again, walking around in their old houses. they disappear.

Possession Someone once a member of community screams in unimaginable agony for days, becomes a terrfiying demon, kills everything in sight, speaks so quickly it’s unintelligible, appears and disappears out of thin air, and is decidedly animalistic with snarls, growls, and crouching.

My point with all this being that in a world where vampires have walked among us for thousands of years, they’re going to have left a lot of footprints in our mythos.

But, as it’s unlikely they’re the only ones, there are myths one may assume arose from elsewhere.

Now, I can’t speculate as to what creatures might have inspired these myths. As I demonstrated above, and canon shows with vampire myths being as far removed from real vampires as they are, these myths are only going to contain one grain of truth, possibly a very distorted one at that.

But there are some creatures that come to mind that seem directly contrary to vampires, Children of the Moon, and shapeshifters, and as such might be pointing towards another creature entirely.

I’m getting tired, so I can only think of two examples:

Changeling A child is stolen by fairies, who replace it with a fairy-child. This child is wicked and unnatural (doesn’t grow, might have a beard or too long teeth). Easy to think immortal child, except the whole point, the core, of changelings is that they trick parents into caring for them, and they’re hard to distinguish. Immortal children will eat their parents if they get within 500 yards of them.

Nisse Moody, mischievous, yet fairly harmless, the nisse is at his most abstract a patron saint for your farm. Give him his oatmeal and he’ll milk your cows, fail to do so and he’ll poke holes in your milk bucket.

I’m not saying the changeling or the nisse were or are necessarily real in the Twilight world, but it’s not impossible either. Mostly, though, these two above are only examples, my point is that as vampires, Children of the Moon, and shapeshifters all made it into legend in the Twilight world, it is a fair assumption that legends not concerning these three might hold a grain of truth as well.

#long post #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight worldbuilding #myths #folklore #twilight gifts #twilight vampires

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astridthevalkyrie · 4 years ago

Text

summer rain: chapter 1

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

Chapter 2

Read on FF.net or AO3.

Helloooo, beautiful people. I’m so excited about this story! This is now the official first part of the series, so it’s a prequel to the three oneshots I’ve already posted. If you haven’t read them, no worries, you can read this just fine. If you want to, just know they all have an established relationship and will reference the past, so you may possibly get spoiled.

I plan for this to have five or so chapters, so buckle up, and as always, happy reading!

You’ve been expecting more.

Maybe that’s the wrong perspective to have. It’s still the military, and it’s still your first day and sure, that’s exciting and all, but you’ve heard stories. People always describe their first day of training as absolutely terrifying, but life-changing. They say that the first day is the day all the baby-faced cadets realize they’re in over their heads. It’s an introduction to the rest of their lives. At least, that’s the case for the people who stay. If one can’t handle a verbal beating, how can they stand any chance against the titans? The first day changes everything.

This, however, isn’t life-changing. It’s not terrifying. It’s rather...dull.

To be fair, the man in front doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it either.

You’ve heard of him, of course you have. Even back within Sina, people talk. A newcomer, a gift from the walls, humanity’s savior. Recently joined the Survey Corp and yet already a lieutenant, a definite shoe-in for the next available section commander position. Apparently his origins are a bit of a mystery, but he’s either the long lost son of a rich merchant or he’s come from outside the walls themselves because it’s just impossible that any common person can possess the skills he’s rumored to have. You’re not sure you believe all of it - apparently he’s so fast that the titans can’t even see him coming? yeah, sure - and yet there’s just something about him that gives off a truly well-earned confident aura. That’s been the most exciting part so far, the chance to see him up close, to see that he’s actually real.

Still, since he began talking, Lieutenant Levi hasn’t once raised his voice. He hasn’t screamed at them all for being the weakest pieces of shit he’s ever seen. He hasn’t even told them about how they’re going to train to become snacks for the titans. It’s disappointing. You’ve been ready to stand your ground, to show you’re made of some tough stuff. That can’t happen when your trainer won’t even bother to strike fear into your heart. Where other people may be relieved, you are mourning this loss of the traditional military experience.

At the very least, he’s not the actual trainer. He started his speech with a complaint that their actual instructor was sick for the day so now he had the absolute pleasure to welcome dozens of new fucking brats to their new home and occupation. His words drip with venom and boredom - clearly, he didn’t join to do any of this. It’s beneath him. All in all, Lieutenant Levi seems rather...arrogant. Maybe it’s well-deserved. But you don’t have to like it.

As he walks up to people at random who shout out their bare identities, the lieutenant snaps out comments that seem like they’re meant to bully rather than to frighten.

“Your posture is shit.”

“Oh wow, I bet the titans will be real scared of your noodle arms.”

“And here I thought these villages would send their best and brightest. Instead they sent you.”

But you’re not one to let things get to you so easily. You have your fist balled to your chest proudly, ready to serve humanity. You’ve fought to get where you are, and now you’re really, actually standing here, with your new comrades besides you, and you couldn’t be more proud. A bright smile settles on your face. You will make the best out of this, no matter your humanity-saving trainer’s dour mood.

Unfortunately, said humanity-saving trainer takes notice of your smile, and with his gaze locked on his new target, he walks up to you, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“What’s your deal?”

You straighten your back, snap to attention, and look directly ahead as you know is appropriate. “Cadet (F/N) (L/N), sir, from Stohess District!”

His expression doesn’t throw you off, despite it looking like he’s never been so irritated in his life. You know you haven’t done anything wrong (at least not yet), so him looking that pissed off must be an internal issue, nothing to do with you. You’re not any different than any of the other cadets that have introduced themselves.

“Cadet (F/N) (L/N),” he says as though he’s testing out a brand new curse word, with just a hint of mockery in his voice. “I didn’t ask for your name or where you were from. I asked what your deal was.”

Well what in the holy hells is that supposed to mean?

Is what you want to say, but instead you simply furrow your brows and ask curly. “Sir?”

“What the fuck are you so happy about?” he clarifies, annoyance displayed clearly on his face.

Well damn, no need to be so edgy. You aren’t necessarily required to be as serious as everyone else here, and smiling isn’t a crime last time you checked. But this is obviously Lieutenant Levi’s thing, to be snarky and mean, and the sooner you answer, the sooner he’ll move on and find a new victim. “Just happy to be here, sir.”

Your smile stays right where it is.

“Oh, is that it?” He stares at you, deadpan. “You like the thought of being eaten? Does the idea just make your day? Do you fantasize about it at night? Let it lull you to sleep?”

Your smile grows a little strained.

Passion aggression is nothing new. You grew up in Stohess, you’re used to your fair share of cattiness. The lieutenant must take lessons from the tea-sipping high class ladies you’d basically grown up with, because he reminds you of them vividly. Ironic, considering you thought the military would be an escape to a life that was real and included less passive bullshit. It’s that frustration at the similarity that makes your polite mask crack.

The response slips through your lips before you can stop yourself. “No, sir, but last night I did happen to dream of a trainer that was tough enough to handle one of his subordinates smiling.”

You can be catty too.

The grounds become more silent than they already were. It’s as though everyone is suddenly holding their breath at this new confrontation, just waiting to see what the newly dubbed hope of humanity will do if someone matches his sass. The loud silence is what finally makes you just a smidge nervous - surely, they won’t kick you out on your very first day just because of a smart comment, right?

Impatient and a bit anxious, you finally allow yourself to look directly in his eyes, and you’re suddenly stricken by how grey they are. You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone with grey eyes. They’re damn gorgeous. And there’s a hint of...something in them, and to your surprise it’s not rage. He looks calculatingly gleeful, as though he’s just been waiting for someone to say something back to him. He appears cruel and delighted all at once, and the contrast of it along with the striking silver hue is more personality than you’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes before.

It’s a breathtaking sight. You move in just a millionth of a centimeter to get a closer look -

And then he moves, lightning fast, reeling back and swinging his leg around to sweep your legs from under you. With a gasp, you hit the ground hard, head ringing and vision blurring for a few seconds. Your hair, which was loose around your shoulders, flies across your face, some of it entering your mouth. From above you, grey eyes are triumphant, looking down on you as though to ask whether or not that’s tough enough for you. You’d love to answer, but your head is throbbing and you can only let out a pathetic, confused noise that causes titters to spread throughout the room.

What the hell just happened?

You move to get up, but he’s quicker, slamming his foot down on your leg and holding you right where you are. For someone with such a short stature, he looks pretty damn tall from down here. Maybe this is the sight that the titans barely get to see before he slices through them.

Everyone is watching, even if they’re not turning their hands. This is their entertainment today, and the fool has just made its move. The fool being you, of course. They’re all hungry to see how this will play out.

Your cheeks glow bright with embarrassment, but you are not going to waver. Not on the first day. This is what you wanted, right? You wanted someone who’d be a hardass, who’d strike fear in you and make this a day you’d never forget. Well, Lieutenant Levi is your wish come true.

“Please remove your foot, sir,” you muster as politely as you can, looking up at him icily.

He digs the heel of his shoe into your thigh to make a point, and maybe to see if you’ll cry out in pain. But you look him in his strange grey eyes and you only blink, a small smile returning to your face. Will he kick someone who’s already down?

The moment seems to last forever, and you briefly entertain the fantasy that time is freezing for him as much as it is for you.

And then it’s all broken - he takes his foot off and walks right by you, and the only words you’re spared after being humiliated are, “Tie your hair up, you look ridiculous.”

Thus goes your first meeting with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

____________________

Dinner that night is filled with chatter. It seems people have found their loyal companions pretty fast, and cliques are forming faster than a speeding bullet.

Luckily, you don’t need to worry about making friends. Besides the fact that you’re charming and perfect (according to everyone else and definitely not just you), you joined the military with your best friend from childhood. Millie Shackel is every bit the Stohess lady you are, the Rose to your Maria, the jelly to your butter. It’s amazing how much two girls can bond over a shared hate for the lack of activity happening within their stuffy town.

You gnaw at the bread on your plate, squeezing your eyes shut in pain after a particularly hard bite makes the back of your head throb. Not for the first time, you place your hand gingerly on the back of your skull, confirming that there’s no blood pouring out.

“Shouldn’t have mouthed off,” Millie quips from across the table, looking at you amusedly.

“Thanks,” you mutter bitterly, abandoning the bread for now until the soreness goes away. “Didn’t think one stupid comment was going to make him go berserk on me.”

She laughs, confirming you sound every bit as stupid as you feel. “I don’t think that classifies as berserk. That was a superior putting you in your place.”

“Suck-up,” you accuse, eyes narrowed. She only rolls her eyes, and you bring the cup of water to your lips and begin simply guzzling it down when someone claps you on the back, making you choke.

You turn to glare, still coughing up water, at two guys behind you. The one who nearly killed you is tall, with hair the color of bananas, and he’s grinning with no regrets, the shameful bastard. The other one behind him looks apologetic, red-haired with pretty green eyes. He whacks his friend on the arm. “You idiot, you nearly sent her to the infirmary!”

“Oh, come on.” The tall guy slides next to you without permission, slinging an arm around you as though you’re the closest of chums. Back in Stohess, you’d have called for his execution or some shit. “Surely the girl who talked back to Lieutenant Levi can handle some water going down the wrong way.”

Millie does not look pleased at the intruder, and looks even more grouchy when his friend sits down next to her, albeit keeping a much more respectful distance. When you finally stop coughing violently, you shove the guy’s arm away.

“A-asshole, what the hell’s your problem?”

“There’s no problem, kid.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “I just wanted to see the balls on you. Guess it was overexaggerated.”

“Obviously,” you snap, “I just talked back, I didn’t hop over the wall and kill a titan.”

“Regardless, good job with the way you handled it. The others are talking about you.”

Millie gives you a stern look. “Hear that? Now we’re the troublemakers.”

You shrug apologetically, and decide to take another crack at eating your bread. This time, it goes down easier, with only a light sting to remind you of the lieutenant’s cruelty.

“I’m Stephen,” the redhead says with a shy smile, extending his hand. You shake it, then turn your gaze questioningly to the one next to you. He grins cockily, waiting for you to ask. You don’t.

“This is Ricky.” Stephen spoils his fun, sounding exasperated.

“I assume you two are close.” Millie wrinkles her nose distastefully. You bite back a laugh - there’s that Stohess bitchiness that you love about her.

“We met this morning,” Ricky responds, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

The two of you warm up to the boys soon enough. Ricky is rather friendly when he’s not trying to steal your food thinking you won’t notice, and Stephen is downright sweet, his emerald eyes brightening when you ask him where he’s from. He goes off on a ramble about his village which is somewhere smack dab in the middle of the land within Wall Rose. Apparently their local stew is the best there is. You privately disagree; nothing quite tastes like the stew they make in the Orvud District, least of all this bland loaf of bread in your hand.

Ricky, on the other hand, is from Shiganshina, which is apparently an outer city of Wall Maria (so the two boys really had just met that morning).

“So, I’m guessing it’s the MP for you two?” Ricky says. Millie looks offended.

“That’s not right for you to assume!” She deflates a little. “But yes, it is.”

“Hey.” You shoot her a scowl. “It’s the MP for you. I don’t have any intention of hurrying back to precious Sina.”

Millie gazes at you with her we’ll talk about this later look like she has every time you’ve brought up that you have no intention of returning to fucking Stohess where nothing ever happens. Before she can say anything, Ricky ruffles your hair fondly.

“Should’ve known you were made of tougher shit than that. So what, you like playing hero?”

You shrug. “No, I just have a sob story. Dead old Dad was a Scout, and then he was titan chowder.”

Stephen looks disturbed at how bluntly you say it, and even Ricky is a bit thrown off. You chuckle at their expressions, waving a hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine, it happened a while ago. I barely remember him. But you know, what better way to connect with your dead dad than to align yourself with the people who let him die, right?”

Ricky’s mouth hangs open as Millie snorts. “You can laugh, she’s making a joke. Get used to her sense of humor, it’s always this bad.”

“I resent that.”

“So you don’t care about getting into the top ten?” Stephen asks carefully - scoping out the competition, you realize.

“Couldn’t give less of a shit,” you answer coolly, “but Millie obviously does.”

“I’ll get into the top ten, it’s not about that.” Millie says confidently, shaking her head as though it’s ridiculous to even imagine that she wouldn’t. After all, you two were raised to be perfect. “The real goal is to be first.”

Ignoring the madly ambitious look in her eyes, you focus on Stephen. “So what is it for you? The Scouts?”

He winces bashfully. “I’m...undecided.”

You laugh out loud, a bit meanly. “What, undecided like you’re going to some top university in Mitras? This is the Training Corp, Stephen, you’re not gonna get to try out a bit of everything. Just choose whether or not you wanna be shipped off to a pointless death, and then you’ve made your decision.”

Stephen frowns, shaking his head. “If it was that simple, then what would be the point of choosing?”

Who in the holy hells asked for his philosophical wisdom, that’s what you want to know. Rolling your eyes, you turn to Ricky, who is chewing on your bread, abandoned after your taste buds just wouldn’t adjust without the butter you were used to. With his mouth full, he answers easily. “Scouts.”

You nod. At least he’s sure.

____________________

“That wasn’t right,” Millie says later, right as you’re about to lie down on a scratchy-looking bed.

“What?”

“What you said to him. He can take his time deciding if he wants to. And it’s just rich, coming from you.”

Your eye twitches in irritation. “You’re just pissed because I don’t wanna take on the most boring job in the world.”

“Grow up,” Millie hisses, venom laced in her voice. “Not everything’s about your entertainment.”

Turning around, you see your best friend with arms crossed, giving you a disapproving look that reminds you of your mother. How odd. What’s that old saying about people becoming what they most hate?

“You’re gonna lecture me now too? Hit me with some philosophy, maybe?” You raise your brow, daring her to say more. “Or do you wanna knock me over again? Maybe I’ll get a concussion this time.”

Millie scoffs, sitting down on the bed she’s claimed. “You know what, it was nice. Seeing someone put you in your place like that.” Her lips quirk under your hard gaze. “Maybe he’ll teach you a thing or two about taking things seriously. Give you some actual goals to achieve.”

The only thing Lieutenant Levi will teach you is to never get distracted by something like how beautiful someone’s eyes look ever again. Even now, you can still picture him, the way he stood in front of you, startled you, threw you off. The way his eyes were filled with more duality than you’d ever expected to see in a person.

Pretending like you didn’t just fantasize about his pretty grey irises, you roll your eyes and flop down on the bed next to her’s. “He’s not gonna teach me jack shit. He’s not even our trainer.”

Millie hums, whether it’s to you or to herself you don’t know, and when you look at her again she’s closed her eyes, clearly wanting to end what was a very long day. It’s not long before you join her.

“(F/N).”

“Yeah?”

“I miss home.”

You don’t, but you keep it to yourself.

The last thing you think of before you fall asleep is how cold the lieutenant had looked when he humiliated you, and your cheeks burn angrily.

____________________

Two weeks pass by in a blur. Once training starts, there’s not much time to think about something like goals, because everyone’s goal is simply living until dinner each night. Avoid getting yelled at, attend classes, study hard, and for the love of all things holy don’t fall on your face when you’re balancing in the practice ODM gear.

It’s a rush, and you actually find yourself enjoying it. The food still tastes stale and the bed is still too hard to be comfortable, but there’s an easy routine that’s so much more than sit still and look pretty. While you’ve never been a fan of routine, this is different. There’s a purpose to this, even if everyone has different things they’re working towards. Whether they’re trying their best to show what they’re made of and get into the top ten like Millie, or pushing themselves because they get starry-eyed at the thought of saving humanity like Rashad, or simply staying out of trouble to avoid getting meal privileges taken away like Clara, everyone is working towards something, and it’s thrilling to be in the midst of it, to be a part of something meaningful.

You and Ricky are fast friends - he’s surprisingly not too insufferable and he shares your enthusiasm for not taking things so seriously. He also seems like he’s looking for a partner in crime, someone to partake in the oh-so delightful task of slacking off with. Millie is throwing herself into perfecting everything, and Stephen, while not as crazy as she is, is more nervous about losing respectability in front of their trainers and comrades. So the two of you naturally gravitate towards each other, because jeez, at least a few people here need to remember that life still exists outside of all of the training and military drama.

Today is the first time they’re letting you practice hand-to-hand combat, and while that’s obviously ridiculous since you’re training to fight titans (or just bully people, if you’re joining the MP, but Millie didn’t appreciate you voicing that out loud), it’s also a chance for you to show off a natural talent.

You’re flexible. And fairly fast too.

Sure, you’re no fighter, but back home you were put into dancing lessons since you were a wee young thing, so you have a much higher tolerance than most of these chumps. You can take a few hard punches here and there, and you’re fluid with your movements, so you’re giving as good as you get. Even combat is a dance in a certain way, it has all the same elements at any rate. Everything comes down to the placement of the feet, and every other body is an accessory that has to be utilized perfectly to do any damage.

Unfortunately, Ricky’s fought, like actually fought - fucking peasants from Maria and their street fights - and so as much as you put up a damn good fight, he eventually gets you in a hold from behind. You squirm in his grasp as he laughs, digging his fingers in your side. You try to protest, but it’s hard when he’s tickling you so hard.

“H-hey, hey!” Your giggling only gets two octaves louder when Ricky doesn’t let up. “Stop!” Ricky’s laugh mixes in with yours, until he’s lifting you off the ground. Your breathing becomes painful as you struggle against his grip, clawing at his hands. “Ricky! Let go!”

Finally, he decides to show mercy, dropping you. He regrets it pretty soon, though, because then you’re on him quickly, throwing a hard punch against his shoulder. He groans, letting out a pained, “What the hell, (F/N)?” but you’re not done. You grab the collar of his uniform, and tug it forward briefly to give yourself some momentum to shove him back as hard as you can.

Ricky stumbles on his feet, catching himself before he falls at the last second. There’s a determined expression in his eyes, not quite competitive but suddenly eager to show off.

“So, think your dainty dancing is gonna give you the advantage here?” he challenges, balling his fists in front of his chest. You do the same. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but that’s not how that works.”

“Beat me, then. Properly.” You smirk, planting your feet firmly. Let him throw the first punch, you decide. “I have to be on the ground for you to win.”

Ricky’s clever too, knowing you intend to use his size against him. He lowers his arms, extending them as though he’s going to let you take a free shot. Yeah, you’re not that stupid. You stay right where you are, raising an unimpressed brow. The two of you stare each other down, trying your best not to break into smiles.

“Hit me.”

“Hard pass.”

“Because you know your punch will be too weak?”

“How’s your shoulder, Ricky? Should be feeling fine, since my punch was so weak.”

He barks out a laugh, rolling his shoulder back experimentally. “Like getting hit by a feather.”

Okay, trash talk isn’t part of the combat training that the trainer, Instructor Grumman, has assigned. But it’s still fun, and it’s about a thousand times more preferable than actually fighting. Fighting is painful and pointless. Trash talk is entertaining and doable.

Still, you hunch your shoulders. If Ricky really won’t move, you’ll come at him with full force. Digging your heel into the ground, you give yourself a boost and run towards him with a burst of speed. His eyes widen, and his first instinct is to hold out his hands to keep you at bay. But with the close proximity and his lanky figure, it won’t be enough. You’ll have him on his back within seconds if you ram into him in one, two -

You don’t make it.

You don’t make it because you’re suddenly flung into the air. You let out a frantic shriek and bring your arms up to shield your face. The ground approaches with dizzying speed and you hit it with a sickening thud. Your hands are suddenly covered in scratches and you open your mouth to furiously ask Ricky what the fuck he was thinking and how did he even do that and did he have to throw you so high -

But when you look up, it’s cold grey eyes that meet you.

Fuck.

The glare that was supposed to be for Ricky is now aimed at him, unadulterated hate coursing through your veins. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that day. Just what in the actual fuck is his problem, and just what had you done to deserve being thrown over his shoulder and up into the sky like a fucking ragdoll? You hadn’t mouthed off this time. Hell, you didn’t even know he was there, so just what the fuck was he punishing you for?

“People who don’t take their training seriously usually end up looking up like this,” he hisses. His glare matches yours, which is ridiculous, because he’s the one who knocked you down. Why is he pissed off? “‘Course, they’re usually looking up at a titan, but we don’t have any of those on hand for me to demonstrate.��

Yeah, he’s far from a titan. Fucking shrimp.

“I was taking my training very seriously, sir,” you say with gritted teeth. “In fact, I would have defeated my opponent had you not stepped in and shot me up in the air.” Your hands would also have significantly fewer bruises.

He snorts, actually snorts, like you’ve just told a hilarious joke. “A real opponent isn’t going to let you run that mouth of yours before they come at you. You’d be dead in two fucking seconds.”

People are looking now. Everyone remembers that first day, and they all look as though their favorite stage actors have come to town to perform a show. They’re all waiting to see just what the girl who talked back to Lieutenant Levi will do now. A circus trick, perhaps? They don’t know what you’re made of - no one is going to see you crack. And definitely not because of this insufferable man.

“You don’t know that, sir.” You say it with a poisonous smile, wanting him to know that it’s not meant to be respectful. “I might just make it. Maybe I’ll even make it longer than you.”

There are hushed gasps all around you, but the lieutenant pays them no mind. He looks amused, as if you’re just a stupid little girl, an arrogant brat who somehow thinks she’s somehow stronger than him. You’re not an idiot, you know that he’s an excellent soldier who will probably make captain soon, and you’re a lowly cadet who doesn’t even know the basics yet. But once you’re trained up, once you have experience, you think you could take him on, and you could possibly win.

Lieutenant Levi leans down, crouching on his legs before leaning in. He grabs your shoulder harshly, and leans in to whisper in your ear. “I’ll be waiting, (L/N).”

You almost feel respected until he adds, “Waiting to see the day that fucking smile gets wiped off your face.”

With that, he stands up and turns. Turns to walk away. Turns as though you’re not still on the ground. Turns as though your comrades aren’t snickering around you, convinced that he just put you in your place a second time. Turns as though he didn’t just single you out for no damn reason - who even fucking asked him to watch? Who asked him to interfere in your business? Why didn’t anyone else demand his attention? You weren’t the only one goofing off. Hell, there were some people who were actually just lazing around! Where was their punishment?

Furiously, you speak before your brain can catch up.

“Why don’t you fight me, Lieutenant?” you say loudly as you get to your feet.

He stops.

Ricky, who is safely standing a few feet away now, gives you a wide-eyed look, silently asking if you’re brain damaged. But you pay him no mind, your eyes focused on the back of Lieutenant Levi’s head, probably burning a hole in him with your gaze by now. Immediately, the crowd changes sides again, hushed oohs spreading around. It’s not enthusiastic, no one actually believes you’ll triumph, but they are enthusiastic that you have the balls to try.

He turns, giving you the driest expression you’ve ever seen, and you half expect to be dismissed. To be told that you’re too weak to even think about fighting him.

Instead, his stance changes, his fists are raised, and he’s accepted your challenge.

You know you can’t win. That’s not the point. The point is to hold out. For a whole minute, at least. Half a minute. Was twenty seconds too generous?

There’s a small part of you that regrets mouthing off this time.

Lieutenant Levi doesn’t have to waste any time staring you down. He has no need to debate in his head about who should throw the first punch, and nor does he grant you the courtesy of devising a strategy in your head first. In half a second, he’s approaching you with dizzying speed, fist reeled back, about to knock you over for the second time today.

But you’re sick and tired of these fast maneuvers.

You duck down just as he closes the gap between you, and you go for his legs. He grunts in surprise as you make contact, clutching tightly. It may look pathetic. Your arms are wrapped around his thighs, which you basically just dived into. Your face is squished against his hip. Your feet have left the ground, as you’ve thrown your entire body at him. At this moment, you look absolutely ridiculous.

But it’s worth it.

The lieutenant loses his balance as his feet slip from under him. You can feel him falling down, down, down, with a gasp that is just fucking music to your ears. This is turning out better than you’ve ever hoped for. You’ve proved everyone wrong, even yourself. He’s going to hit the floor, and you’re going to win. You’ll win.

Or at least, you would have.

You’re both hurtling through the air for one glorious moment. Then, recovering from his shock in an instant, Lieutenant Levi spins the two of you in midair, and despite all your efforts and quick calculations, it’s your back that hits the floor again with a loud crack, air knocked clean out of your lungs. You gasp for breath. His knees are digging into your neck, you’re going to choke -

He takes no time to recover. He’s up and on his feet in a second, brushing the nonexistent dirt off his pants, and you’re left panting with your hand on your throat, trying to recover what little dignity you have left as laughter erupts around you. Dizziness and confusion overwhelms you, as does something else. Just a few minutes ago, you’d been looking at him hatefully. Well, you from five minutes ago had no idea what hate was. You could kill him right now, this arrogant, pompous, cruel jerk.

How dare he look so unperturbed? Like this is just a normal weekday for him?

A hand yanks you up by your hair, nails digging in your scalp painfully. You’re brought to your knees with a heaving gasp. He tugs your head up until you’re looking at him properly, and he has the nerve to smirk. It’s slight - perhaps he knows a full blown smile would look creepy on him - but it’s there, mocking you.

When he speaks, it’s just a little louder than a murmur. “I thought I told you to tie your hair up.”

Then he releases you, and your buckle over in pain. The position literally has you bowing down to him. White hot anger seeps through you. Consumes you. When he starts walking away, his every step thunders in your head, echoing a million times. He had no right.

No right at all.

It seems like Millie’s wish has come true. You have a goal now. A goal that Lieutenant Levi has so graciously given you.

You’ve decided. No matter what happens, you’re going to get revenge on Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He’s going to fucking pay.

____________________

You’re pacing out in the field later that day, muttering under your breath, the events from earlier replaying in your head on loop. Millie’s decided to give up on getting you to come study with her, and she’s blatantly refused to participate in your little quest for revenge, citing it as “pointless and foolhardy.” Well, this whole thing is pointless and foolhardy. The Training Corp is just a way to produce more dead bodies every year. But Millie didn’t agree with your line of logic and has left you to brood on your own.

Realistically, what are your options? It’s not an easy task to take on. Humiliating a man who is now so respected and admired will be difficult when his ego soars sky high. Something heavy will be needed to bring it down. Now you have no intention of ruining him for life, nothing major or extremely dangerous. If you did have such an intent, it would’ve been rather simple, just a letter back home to your mother to spread the word of what humanity’s hero was really like. Not that she’s inclined to listen to your demands nowadays, but it’s a doable plan that would work one way or another. But you want to embarrass Lieutenant Levi the exact same way he embarrassed you. You want to knock him flat on his back, while everyone watches, and you want to stand triumphantly as he kneels down to you.

Someone listening to your thoughts right about now would think you were having a vivid sexual fantasy. You groan, slumping down against the bark of a tree. It’s going to be dark soon. You have a curfew that you’re inclined to obey. But you simply can’t go back without thinking of a plan. He deserves it. He deserves to be utterly humiliated. Punishing you is one thing. Beating you in a fight is only natural.

But holding you up by your hair like you’re one of the fucking spoils of war only to have you kneel to him - that’s sick. He’s sick, and probably perverted. You wonder if he’s always been like that, or if the glory has gone to his head. And you wonder why he’s chosen you to play this game with. Because of a smile and some cheek? That’s no excuse.

Maybe you’re just the prettiest one here, and he has a crush.

Even the cocky thought can’t distract you enough from your frustration. You can’t possibly beat him. There’s a reason he’s getting so much attention. It’s because he can fight like no other, and it’s all natural talent too. Frankly, you call bullshit, no one is just that good without any practice, but whatever, not the point right now. Who could possibly make you capable enough to beat the lieutenant in a fight? Who could possibly know all his weaknesses?

Probably only him.

Your eyes widen.

____________________

The sun shines brightly the next day. You feel the warm breeze from the open windows kissing your cheek as you run through the base. Most people passing by pay you no mind, although a few give you questioning looks. But they don’t say anything, probably figuring you’re just a lost newbie who’s inevitably going to get yelled at when you show up late for class. But they’re mistaken, you’re not lost at all. You’re running with purpose. And well, you might be late for class, but it’ll be fine, you know Stephen takes detailed notes that he’s willing to share, and even if he feels like being mean, this is much more important.

Originally, the plan was to go all the way to his office, the path pieced together from directions you’d gotten from Instructor Grumman who believed you were going to apologize (for what?). Hopefully, he won’t actually double check if you went through with it, because you have no intention of apologizing for a single damn thing. Your aim is far more sinister than that. Today is the first step of a plan that will take you a long while, but it’ll pay off eventually. You’re going to achieve your goal.

That is, if he agrees.

The universe is on your side, because you don’t even need to go all the way to his office. There he is, in the flesh, talking to a blonde man you recognize as Captain Erwin Smith and a woman who you haven’t seen before. Maybe if he hadn’t been so callous yesterday, you’d have waited until he was away from his comrades before approaching him. It’s too late to care about appearances now.

You step up to the three of them and salute, clearing your throat.

He looks at you, and his eyes harden when he sees a smile plastered on your face yet again.

“Can we help you?” Captain Erwin says gently, but there’s just the slightest edge in his tone. Clearly one is not supposed to just approach this dream team. Your bad.

You open your mouth to answer him, but Lieutenant Levi beats you to it, looking bored as he does. “She’s lost, Erwin. Classes are on the other side of the base,” he says dismissively, waving a hand like he’s swatting away a fly.

“I am not lost. Sir.” Your spine is still straightened and your fist is still balled against your heart. You’re not sacrificing it just yet, but you’re certainly sacrificing your pride here. “I have a request for you. After you pointed out my obvious flaws yesterday, I realized that if I don’t get help, I’m going to fall seriously behind.”

Captain Erwin shoots him an exasperated look, already having figured that his best friend (or whatever they are to each other) must have done something to you. Meanwhile, the woman cackles, nudging the lieutenant’s shoulder.

“She’s being proactive! You appreciate that, don’t you, Levi?”

He doesn’t answer. His attention is now exclusively on you - you nearly feel special.

“So what do you need from me, Cadet?” You ignore the way your stomach flip-flops violently from the way he stares at you, the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a light smirk. Something in him clearly enjoys the idea of you needing him for something. Something else to lord over your head, something else for him to be cocky about. “You want me to find someone to give you private lessons?”

“Close,” you say, mustering the brightest and happiest fucking expression you can, “I’d like you to give me private lessons. I want you to train me.”

The lieutenant’s eyes flash upwards.

Your hair is neatly tied up in a tight bun.

Y’all have no idea how weird it is to write “Lieutenant Levi.” I loathe it.

Also, this is my first time writing in second person. Lots of firsts here, folks.

Please review, your comments are my source of life.

#aot #attack on titan #levi x reader #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi ackerman

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ficsex · 3 years ago

Note

in an ask you mentioned that fetishization can be positive. in my understanding, fetishization is an inherently bad thing, so if you're up to it, could you elaborate on that?

I can, but get ready for some early 20th century Jewish philosophy! :D

So, there's this guy named Martin Buber, one of the most famous Jewish philosophers, who posited a specific kind of existentialism: the theory of the I–It relationship and the I–Thou relationship (or Ich–Es and Ich–Du). Definitely read up on it, I'm going to do a shitty job of explaining it.

In essence:

The I–It relationship is a transactional, objectifying relationship. It's one where a person sees another being for what they are, and not who they are. There's no real connection between spirits, because each person only sees a representation of the other person in their mind.

The I–Thou relationship, conversely, is about seeing another being in truth, without any filters based on preconceptions, what they can do for each other, or what they want out of the encounter. It's the most true meeting, because you get to experience who a person actually is, instead of all of the mental and relational fog that we build around others.

Buber goes on to explain that I–Thou relationships are rare, and that each person may only have a handful of fleeting moments in their life where they get to experience a connection like that.

*****

Okay, so. What does this look like in practice?

(this explanation is mine, and is structured for ease and simplicity. Don't @ me, I know I'm deviating from Buber's purposes.) (He can @ me, you guys can't)

Imagine you board a specific bus for the first time. New job, new house, whatever. It's your first time on this bus line. You step on the bus, and there is a bus driver. You pay your fare and say thank you, and sit down. What kind of relationship do you have with this bus driver? It's an I–It relationship - your whole interaction is through a lens of purpose. They are there to drive you to their destination, you are there to pay your fare and be transported. There is no true connection there.

Now, imagine you take that bus every week day, for months and months, and you've started chatting with that bus driver. Now you know about their kids, what kind of coffee they like. They know about your job and what makes you smile. You like each other as people. This could be the beginning of an I–Thou relationship (Buber would disagree - whatever, it's my blog).

You had no way to develop that I–Thou relationship, though, if you hadn't interacted first through the I–It lens.

*****

"Mx. Ficsex, when do we get to the part about sex?"

Now, dear reader. Now.

*****

When it comes to sex and relationships, we often meet people through a lens of fetishization. The only reason you notice them is because they exemplify something sexual. They are a role or an object, but in the sense that Buber describes (and I bastardize).

We cannot control our desires. We can certainly control our behaviors, and we might be able to put in work to expand our view of what's considered "attractive", but we can't have a conversation with our subconscious to say "hey, I need you to turn off that fetish, please". That's a recipe for repression.

If you have a fetish for large breasts, you might view someone with large breasts as a role, as opposed to as a person. Their role is "sexy person that I look at". Their role is not "person who owes me sex" or "person I can demean" or even "person I can hit on", but your brain assigns them a box that they fit in, just like "bus driver" fits into the box of "I pay, they get me somewhere".

It's not that someone with large breasts is actually an object, of course, but the fact that they fit into the role of "sexy person that I look at" may be what connects you. Maybe it gives you a reason to say hello, or send a drink down the bar to them, or send the first message in OkC. This opens the door to a true and meaningful connection.

*****

This gets trickier when we discuss identities that are typically fetishized. I'm not going to go into the downsides of fetishization here (and there are many), as that would make this post a lot longer.

It can be empowering to be seen as sexual and desirable when you are part of a group that is frequently seen as deviant, undesirable, or non-sexual. It's not even a "well, no one regular likes me, so I guess I'll take someone gross who fetishizes part of my identity" (though that happens too). It's more "wow, this aspect of myself that society tells me / others is undesirable is a major turn-on for this person. If they are also a nice/good person that I get along with, this could work out really well for both of us!

(get ready for the thesis statement. drumroll, please....)

Fetishization is by nature dehumanizing, but that doesn't necessarily mean that there is no humanity to be found in potential connections. I–It relationships are all dehumanizing, to some extent, but we can use the "person as role" introduction as a foundation to create a "person as person" relationship.

If you are a person who is uncomfortable being fetishized at all, that is okay! You don't have to stand for it! I'm not being sarcastic, that is a genuinely good line to draw. But your point of view is not the only one.

There are trans women - especially older trans women - who are in relationships with men who are primarily sexually attracted to trans women (also known as chasers), and they can be good and healthy relationships. Yes, the relationship is built on an objectification of a marginalized identity, but the two people in that relationship have decided together that they are happy.

There are people missing limbs, either from congenital abnormalities or amputations, who have found love and companionship with people have have a fetish for their limb difference.

What is important to keep in mind is consent and power dynamics.

For example, race-based fetishization is almost always unethical, as it's based on a concept of privilege versus marginalization. So is fetishization based on cognitive ability, as it's based on being more powerful and able than a partner with an intellectual disability. People can't just say "I cannot control my desires", and use that to excuse bad intentions, bad practices, and bad behavior. But people can say "this aspect of a person attracts me to them, and puts them into a role of "sexy person I want to look at", and I therefore will see if I can get close to them.

*****

This post is getting way, way too long, so I'm going to cut it here now.

I want to wrap up by saying that this is ONE view, that I am presenting in ONE way. I am generally against the concept of fetishization, and only intend here to explain how it can be positive or powerful. If individual people with marginalized identities find value or desirability in being fetishized, that is not ours to police.

Enjoy my brutal butchering of Martin Buber's philosophy, and feel free to share nuanced takes in the replies.

#damn #this doesn't even get into ethical objectification #which is way less cringe than fetishization #and is one of my favorite topics to yell about

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houseboatisland · 3 years ago

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I'm rather curious for your own takes on Thom Thom~✨💙

Edit credit to @/ComradeOpThomas from Twitter, this is my ideal Thomas!

(Season 5 Thomas is the best Thomas, I don’t make the rules)

I started this hoping for it not to become a whole biography, but it just kept pouring out of me, so here's a very, very long post indeed lol

Thomas is NOT an L.B.S.C.R. E2 Class. He’s actually a unique design born to the North Western Railway in its earliest days… and in remarkably sad circumstances.

When the Railway Executive Committee first took over in August 1914, they were repulsed at the state of the Sudrian railways. Here were several argumentative companies operating in isolation from one another, with geriatric engines and stock, and one of them hadn't even run a train or maintained its permanent way since the start of the century. A key agenda item of the R.E.C.'s was a continuous, efficient railway system to quickly move men and materiel to the Island's eastern coast were Ireland to side with Kaiser Bill against John Bull. The existing standard gauge railways would have to be more or less torn up and rebuilt from scratch, and several new miles of track laid in to make for a single fluid network.

This required, among other things, many new engines. Several came over the Channel as and when could be spared by the Mainland, but as it became increasingly clear that the war would not be over "by Christmas," this wasn't an ideal long-term solution. The R.E.C. was especially upset that it had to put so many of its tender engines onto construction trains when their strength could be better used on other work. Two tank engines off the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, No. 1 "Short" and No. 2 "Stumpy" were by now nearing fifty years old, and exhausted mechanically.

The R.E.C., out to keep costs down and use resources to the fullest, ordered the N.W.R. to scrap these two engines and use the best parts of each to create one new engine. Measurements were taken, plans were hastily drawn up, and Short and Stumpy were quietly cut up in January 1915. Several fittings were made new for what odds and ends neither engine could contribute a usable part. The resulting new engine was "Thomas," who was put to work fresh off the shop floor.

Thomas at this point became the N.W.R.’s No. 1 quite by accident. He was the first engine to be built at Crovan’s Gate, and the REC misinterpreted this on his builder’s plates as an intention by the N.W.R. TO make him No. 1. So when Thomas gained his number, the R.E.C. and the N.W.R. both assumed this was deliberate by one another. And it was just too much of a hassle and too unimportant to change, so No. 1 he stayed.

As for his name, Thomas is named after Thomas Reginald Payne, the North Western Railway's first Chief Mechanical Engineer. Payne had made Thomas' construction a reality, from drawing up his blueprints to supervising his piecing together. Payne, who was CME from 1914 to his death in 1951, never forgot this connection to "his" engine, and often wanted to be on the shop floor whenever Thomas was in for repairs.

Thomas’ “infancy” was in a word, harsh. He was working around the clock, surrounded by engines who came and went, and did little if any socializing. Foremen were ordering him about at every turn. His first friend ever was the new N.W.R. No. 2, Edward, the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway’s No. 5 and only tender engine, who knew his old crewmates were chopped up to make Thomas. Thankfully, Edward knew better than to let Thomas in on this, lest he give him some sort of existential crisis, and he made quick work of making himself a mentor to the little engine.

In these conditions, Thomas’ “cheeky” and anti-authoritarian streak took shape. His whole life thus far had been work and taking lumps from his superiors, most of whom were English and not Sudrian. This morphed into a disrespect for big engines, who wanted him to be their errand boy as construction work began to ebb and focus shifted to running trains. Ever the contrarian, Thomas only doubles down on his disrespect for tender engines when he finds out that that’s “the traditional order of things.” Edward is of course exempt from this attitude, but in his tensest moments Thomas can even lose patience with HIM momentarily.

The war finally ends. January 1919 sees the N.W.R. out to make an identity for itself as peacetime takes hold and Parliament quietly rumbles about Grouping or outright Nationalization. Thomas is the first engine to wear "Hatt Blue with Red Stripes," the company's planned standard livery. This isn't unique to him for long, however, and Thomas' new line of work from hereon is Station Pilot for Vicarstown. Needless to say this is upsetting to him. He's not moving up and down the Island like he was when building the railway. He's still rushed off his wheels. He's expected to be answerable to tender engines as he makes up their trains. Most importantly, he's still having as much difficulty as before to make time to make friends. This new job is in every respect everything Thomas could have wanted to avoid, and there's no telling if he'll ever even get out of it. January 1919 is thus where "Wants to See the World" Thomas begins.

Thomas still gets to see Edward regularly, and he is for a pinch joined by two other tank engines shunting at Vicarstown. They're also ex-Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, Nos. 3 and 4 "Edwin" and "Victor." Thomas befriends Victor, who is a friendly old joker, but dislikes Edwin who has become cranky in his old and as a 2-4-0T has a tendency to slip and not be of much help. They leave him too, in 1922, when The Fat Director relocates them to run other branchlines on the Island. So, 1922 onward, we meet Thomas as the sole pilot, thoroughly busy and thoroughly lonely.

This seems more or less canon, but The Fat Director probably sent Thomas to Wellsworth after his runaway with Edward's trucks in anticipation of giving him the Ffarquhar Branch once he was a matured engine. He didn't give Thomas the line just because he rescued James in fine style, that was really what made his mind up.

Thomas looks kindly enough on Henry as a big engine at this time, he and Edward as mentioned aren't necessarily the kinds of "Big Engines" he dislikes. He'll occasionally give him a tease or two, or lose patience with his health, (something he now deeply regrets years later,) but there's no real malice in it. Think of him as the little brother poking fun at his bigger brother for having one arm in a cast, but altogether still feeling sorry for him and accommodating him how he can. Henry for his part appreciates Thomas, but takes his teasing very seriously considering how sensitive and implicating it is to, you know, his whole existence.

My idea of Thomas' relationship with Gordon is heavily inspired by @/mean-scarlet-deceiver's: Thomas is initially awed by Gordon's arrival and finally confident the N.W.R. can survive, but quickly resents him when he shows his true colors as a "big engine" through and through. I wouldn't even call Gordon and Thomas "friendly" until their alliance at Toryreck Mine. From 1923 all the way up to then, depending on when you place it, they... legitimately dislike each other. There's no affection beneath all the ribbing and jibes, they ACTUALLY disliked each other that whole period of time.

I'm still hashing out my headcanon of 98462 and 87546, (just know that those aren't actually their numbers,) but it's safe to say Thomas hates their guts, and '62 and '46 hate his guts in return as a servant willing to speak up for himself.

Thomas and James were a couple from 1924 to 1933, when they broke up amid the Big Engine Strike. I'd really rather reserve this for a post of its own at a later date.

Thomas and Percy are good friends, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them "best friends" like the TVS has so often hammered in. They clearly come to blows whenever the tension's too much. I like to explain that away as a shift in Thomas' character. With him doing more passenger work as Percy and Toby handle the stone trains, and his increasing fame, Thomas begins looking down on Percy, not long after he transferred to Ffarquhar in 1955 in fact. This might also have to do with unresolved feelings between them both. (Hey, remember that little green engine you kissed once just to try it over twenty years ago? He's your roommate now, probably forever. Play nice!)

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tennessoui · 3 years ago

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40 or 43 if you’re still taking prompts! i love ur AUs they’re so beautiful and contain so much brilliance within a short snippet!

it's been so long, anon, you probably forgot you sent this but here is prompt 40, exes meeting after not seeing each other for a long time. in true tennessoui fashion, they don't. actually. meet and/or see each other in this snippet. also in true tennessoui fashion, all tennessoui needs to decide to continue this is one (1) validation.

the backstory here is something i have been thinking about for days after a discord convo, where during the fight on mustafar, obi-wan hits anakin hard enough in the head that he loses all of his memories. obi-wan takes him with him for a few months but the wounds of Order 66 and vaderkin's role in what happened is too fresh for obi-wan to (understandably) get over, even if this anakin doesn't remember doing it, so they separate. this is set 8 years after Mustafar.

(1.7k)

“Kenobi won’t come,” the fighter pilot says immediately upon disembarking from his craft.

One commander lets out a groan. Someone else hits the durasteel side of the closest x-wing with a closed fist.

“Do we really need him?” Anakin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been eight years since the rise of the Empire. Surely a washed-up Jedi General from the Clone Wars won’t have people jumping to join the Rebellion!”

No one meets his eye. In fact, the air room suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable.

Organa exhales heavily and turns to look at Anakin, which is rare because the man never voluntarily looks at Anakin. “There are few names from that time that still carry an untainted weight in the eyes of the galaxy. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of them.”

“I grew up hearing about The Team!” A teenager says eagerly. “I’d join any resistance movement if I knew both of ‘em were fighting with me!”

“You’re already a part of a resistance movement,” a girl next to him pointed out waspishly.

The boy waves her off. “Skywalker and Kenobi, saving the galaxy! It’d be wizard to be a part of that, and you know it, Aasha!”

Anakin’s throat tightens at that name. Skywalker. His name. Or, his old name. He has no more connection to it now than he does to the name Kenobi or Organa. They’re just letters.

He catches Organa’s eye. The man is looking at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Anakin knows instinctively that this is another one of the man’s tests. Will this time be the time that whatever injury has kept his memories suppressed for eight years is undone, and his previous life comes thundering through his mind?

He’s sick of these tests. He’s never failed one, but Organa never comes closer to trusting him afterward. He can only assume that whatever Anakin Skywalker had done in his last few days alive had been so terrible that only a few people knew the truth, and those who did would never forgive any version of him for it.

Organa certainly knew, though he had never shared that information with Anakin. And.

And Kenobi did as well. That was clear. They’d only been together for five standard months, sharing a small spacecraft made smaller by the fear, agony, grief, fury, and hurt radiating off of his companion into the space around them.

It had been hard to tell at the time if one of the things Obi-Wan Kenobi had been grieving was the loss of Anakin Skywalker. Anakin isn’t sure Kenobi would have been able to answer that either.

Some part of him that usually rests dormant in the back of his mind stirs and hisses that it had to have been. That Skywalker’s loss had torn Kenobi’s soul to shreds.

This doesn’t necessarily feel like his own thought, but it’s quite hard to ignore. He wants to rub a hand against his aching head, but that surely would tip off Organa that something’s--what? That he’s having thoughts?

Perish the very idea.

One would think Anakin hadn’t joined the Rebellion of his own free will. That Anakin hadn’t spent three standard months on the planet Kenobi had left him on before catching wind of the existence of the Rebel Alliance, that he hadn’t risked life and limb (more limb, apparently, given his missing flesh hand) to find them afterwards. He hadn’t known much anything about himself, but he had known that he hadn’t liked what the Imperial troops were doing, how much destruction they were causing, how the people they were supposed to be protecting hid in fear of their white armor.

Something in Anakin had rebelled at that, had thought it wrong and twisted. Someone needs to stop them, he’d thought. So he had found the people that were trying to.

And yes, a small part of him had thought--perhaps hoped--that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a part of the Rebel Alliance by the time Anakin made his way to their biggest base. He had thought--perhaps hoped--that he would be able to prove himself to the other man. Look, he had wanted to scream at Kenobi, I’m not like that other Anakin, I would never do what he did. You can trust me. You can look me in the eye, I won’t stab you in the back.

Because something in him had yearned, still yearns, for Kenobi’s approval. For the weight of his gaze settling warmly around his shoulders. For his small smiles, his calloused hand clasping the back of Anakin’s head to bring their foreheads together in a gentle tap hello.

These are things Anakin knows he’s never experienced. But he must have in his past life, because his whole body will ache for them like a phantom limb. It’s been seven years and a few months since he last saw Kenobi.

“I’ll go,” Anakin says, which is what he said the last time they were standing like this, huddled around a fighter pilot delivering the same message of failure.

Organa’s mouth tightens in displeasure, and Mothma places a hand on his arm in warning.

Everyone else falls silent around them, as if recognizing the fact that they’re in the middle of a brewing storm, and they’re lucky to be in its eye right now.

“I do not think--” Organa starts, but Anakin cuts him off, crossing his arms even tighter over his chest, as if to hold himself back. The force suppression collar around his neck grows warmer, but it holds. It always holds.

“You’re already sending men who look like me to him!” Anakin points out irately. “The last four men could have been related to me!” It’s something Anakin’s thought about in the past but never said out loud. He’s glad to say it now though, especially because Organa flushes a bit which means Anakin’s right. “Just send me! If it doesn’t work, nothing in the galaxy will!”

Now, Anakin isn’t sure that’s true at all. He’s taking a huge leap with this, but it’s been seven years and a few months since he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi in person, and every part of him is aching with the desire to lay eyes on the man again. Will he hate him still? Will he see all the differences Anakin’s made to his appearance? Will he like them? He fights the urge to run a hand over his shorn hair.

Will Obi-Wan even let him through the door?

The people around them are murmuring now. They don’t know what Organa knows, what Anakin has guessed at: that Skywalker died a traitor to the Republic, that he had tried to strike down Obi-Wan like the Emperor struck down the rest of the Jedi. To them, these fortunate outsiders, they’re wondering why Anakin Skywalker hasn’t already been sent to locate and bring back their errant General.

Before, Anakin’s offer had been quiet, easily ignored over someone else’s. Now he’s loud and confident. Impossible to turn away without making a public scene, without explaining why. And Organa has tried very hard not to do that. For whatever reason, Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that after he’d been examined by a battalion of med droids and interrogated by all three leaders of the Rebellion, Organa had given him a list of rules he had to follow in order to join the Rebel Alliance. Firstly, never remove his cuffs and collar.

It’s not a slave collar and it won’t electrocute you if you touch it or try to take it off, Organa had told him when he’d blanched away at the sight. But I have been informed by a trusted ally that the Chance--the Emperor knows your Force Signature intimately. We cannot risk being found. It would kill all hope for us.

Secondly, never confirm his identity. Never talk about who he used to be.

People will know, Organa had grudgingly admitted. Skywalker was one of the faces of the Clone Wars. But you cannot confirm it. In fact.

Thirdly, give up the name Skywalker. Pick another last name, if not first as well.

But Anakin had been attached to his first name for some reason he didn’t know how to begin to question, so even after he toyed with the idea of changing it completely, he couldn’t go through with it. Weeks later he had shown up in Organa’s makeshift office.

I had a mother, didn’t I? He had asked, causing Organa to stiffen immediately.

Do you remember? Organa had interrogated immediately, his standard greeting for Anakin. Anakin had gotten the feeling, especially in those early days, that Organa was waiting with baited breath for Anakin to remember so he could try him for war crimes or treason or whatever it was that Skywalker had done.

No, he had responded honestly. Just a feeling. If I am to take a new last name, I want her name.

A few days later, Anakin had stumbled into his bunk, tired from a day of hard training, to see a packet of documents on his pillow.

Anakin Shmison was written at the top of the first page.

The list of rules goes on and on.

But nowhere does it say that Anakin Shmison isn’t allowed to mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in public. He just never has, because even the sound of the man’s name makes him feel very nauseous, a combination of butterflies and adder snakes wrestling around inside his stomach.

Bail Organa is looking like he’s regretting that oversight right now, but Anakin has backed him quite solidly into a proverbial corner. Either finally tell everyone what happened between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the last few hours of the Republic, or give Anakin Shmison leave to retrieve Kenobi.

“Fine,” Organa gets out, jaw locked and vein throbbing in his temple. Anakin has the distinct feeling he’se spent a lot of his life on the receiving end of that expression. “Have this X-Wing refueled, and leave tonight.”

“No sir,” Anakin says, enjoying the way one of the man’s eyebrows shoot up in angry incredulity.

“No?” Organa asks. “Would you like more beauty rest, perhaps, Shmison?”

“No sir, I don’t need it,” this time he doesn’t resist running a hand through his hair, messing with its part so his longer bangs fall to one side and balance out the mysterious scar that bisects his eyebrow. He grins. “But I will need a craft that sits two. For the return trip.”

#asks #i had a scene planned out where x y z happens and obi-wan lets anakin into his hut/home #and anakin is just like look im a part of the rebellion now!!#and obi-wan 'i use my sarcasm to hide my infinite sadness' is like #'yes im sure the rebellion wouldnt exist without you'#because you know. technically it wouldn't.#but anakin doesnt really get that context so hes like 'stop speaking in tongues old man!!!'#and obi-wan says 'please do not call me that' in the wateriest most loosely strung together voice anakins ever heard #anyways whats happening with me that all im writing is angst #i love happy things and happy endings #obikin #(because they'd get together come on anakin probably has an undercut now and hes thirty obi-wans only a man)#(the bitter resentment is strong but the flesh is WEAK BITCH)#kit to kit: u dont need another wip u really cannot have another wip ur not strong enough for another wip u--#prompt fill

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bnhaficsforthesoul · 4 years ago

Text

BNHA College AU - Dabi

Major: Graphic Design

Minor: Business

Sports: Nope

Clubs: He’s not necessarily in the Shogi club, but he competes in tournaments just because he’s so good at it

Dabi has two reasons for going to college: to prove to everyone, mainly his dad, that he can be successful despite what they say, and to force his dad to spend a lot of money

He hangs out with all the labeled creepy people (save for Keigo, but even then he won’t hang out with him in public cause Keigo’s pretty popular), cause of his scars and resting bitch face people are generally too scared to talk to him so he stayed with the people who didn’t judge him for that

He got his scars in an accident when he was young, the house had gotten set on fire and he got trapped inside after saving his little brother Shouto, who luckily got out with only a scar on his face

Overall dabi was lucky to have survived the ordeal at all, having inhaled so much smoke and being so burnt, but by some miracle he turned out fine, and his scars, other than being a permanent dark red and the skin being rough, weren’t too bad (basically he has the scars in the same general areas but they look more like how real burn scars would – there’s no staples anymore either)

He also changed his name as soon as he was old enough, wanting to create his own identity rather than the one his dad had crafted for him

Dabi works at a tattoo shop near campus, he’s always been pretty good at art and loves tattoos, so he decided he might as well get a job doing something he actually likes. He’s given himself a few tattoos too, and all of his piercings

Him being a graphic design major stems from his love of drawing, but him choosing graphic design rather than fine art or just drawing was due to him wanting to try a new medium, and then enjoying it

Then his business minor is so that he can open is own tattoo shop - he feels that owning his own shop and being successful in it is the best way to spite his dad, so he is all for it

He also lives off campus in his own apartment, he didn’t feel like bothering with getting a roommate

You meet him when you go into the shop to get a tattoo, you just had the sudden urge to get a tattoo so you walked in there and asked if there was any space for you, and turned out Dabi was free

You told him the basic design that you wanted, but also told him that he was free to add whatever he wanted which he greatly enjoyed, and he went to work

Normally dabi would kinda just do the work and move on, maybe make a few comments here and there if he felt like it, he wasn’t much of a talker anyways

But hey, you were cute, so he couldn’t help flirt a bit – and you didn’t seem creeped out by him like a lot of people tended to be, so he took that as a sign that you didn’t mind it

And you definitely did not mind it – you weren’t expecting the person tattooing you to be so hot, but it was for sure a welcome surprise. And you’d be lying if you said the smirk he flashed at you occasionally didn’t give you butterflies

After the tattoo was finished, it didn’t take that long since you had gotten a fairly small one, you were doing the stuff for payment and he went, “ya know, if you go on a date with me, maybe I’ll give you a discount on the next one”

Yes he was technically bribing you for a date, but again, you were cute and didn’t give him a weird look when he started flirting, even flirting back a couple times – so he was just tryna shoot his shot

“I’d like that. Even without the discount, though that would be a nice bonus.”

Sexy tattoo man asks you on a date? Who are you to say no

So you give him your number and give him a little wave before running out of the shop, already wondering where he was going to take you

Now, Dabi never wants to come across as desperate, and in all honesty he really isn’t since he’s not even looking for anything serious, so he decided to wait a few days before even texting you – making you worry that he had decided he didn’t wanna go out with you anymore

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he didn’t, it’s not like you’d been crushing on him for months or anything dramatic, you’d met the guy once – but he was pretty, and fun to talk to, so you were hoping you’d at least be able to see where it went

Luckily though, late at night a few days after you had met him, you finally get a text, reading “hey its dabi, the guy who tattooed you. Still interested in that date?’

You almost ended up texting him right away, ready to get on with it. But nah, he waited 3 days, you can at least wait an hour or two – thank god you didn’t have your read receipts on

Eventually you got to it, responding ‘Hey – yeah I’m up to it. What’d you have in mind?’

Finally deciding he would save the both of you the time, he responded quickly, ‘nothing fancy, I’ll surprise you though.’

You said that was fine, and that was it for the night. You were just gonna wait until he told you when, and didn’t worry about it too much

But then that night, at around 7pm, you got another text: ‘you busy rn?’

You weren’t, so you said so, and he said ‘can you meet me back at the shop in like 30 min? We’re going out tonight.”

Bold of this man to not only assume you could make it in 30 minutes but to just spring your first date upon you like that – but you weren’t going to complain about it, other than the fact that if you wanted to get decently ready you’d have to sprint over there (you were lucky that the shop was close to campus – and that he probably assumed you went to the college here since you never told him)

But you threw on the first clothes you deemed acceptable and got any other small touch ups finished in the next 20 minutes before grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet and booking it towards the tattoo shop – only stopping to look at your reflection in a car window once you were up the street to make sure you still looked decent

Why were you putting in so much effort for the hot emo dude? You’d never know. But you wouldn’t be disappointed either.

You soon walked into the shop and were almost immediately greeted by Dabi. He was wearing ripped black jeans and an oversized black hoodie with black converse, simple but nice

“So what are we doing exactly?”

He didn’t say, just walked out of the shop, so you followed him back into the parking lot where he directed you to an expensive looking matte black car – which side note, he was very proud of. He bought it with his own money (I don’t know car breeds, forgive me for not specifying what type of car it is)

The car ride was pretty vibey – he has awesome music taste but he kept it just high enough so that you could hear it but low enough so that the two of you could talk, he generally doesn’t like small talk but you were pretty interesting so he let the conversation go wherever you led

Eventually you arrived at a big park with a lake and a bunch of tall trees, and you got out of the car while Dabi went to grab a backpack from the trunk – then he led you over to a nice little clearing right next to the lake and pulled out a blanket from his backpack and laid it out so you two could sit

“like I said, nothing fancy. We’re just gonna hang out.”

He had a whole bunch of snacks and drinks in his backpack, and you just spent the next couple hours talking about anything and everything – he loved when you asked him about tattooing and stuff, gave him a chance to brag, and he asked you a bunch of probably too personal questions just because he thought it was cute seeing you flustered

In the end, the first date was a success – and it led to many more. Many of which weren’t even classified dates, just more times where he would randomly text you to hang out, and each time you found yourself liking him more and more, and he shockingly felt the same

At the beginning, the best and most dabi could hope for with you was a kind of friends with benefits situation. He didn’t want a real relationship, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be close with someone

But then you came along, and despite you being very good looking of course, he wasn’t just waiting for the right time to ask if he could fuck you, he just wanted to be around you and actually spend time with you – not just turn you into someone he could fuck when he was bored

Regardless, he’s not very good at getting attached to people, it scares him, so as soon as he realized he caught actual feelings he kinda ghosted you for a bit, worrying you that you did something wrong – he wouldn’t respond to your texts or anything

So this time you stormed your way down to his apartment, where he had brought you a couple times to watch movies and whatever, and knocked on his door

Dabi, much to his disdain, was happy when he saw you standing there. So because of that, he didn’t immediately shut the door, and you walked inside before he could protest

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? Why’d you disappear all the sudden?” Even outside of your crush, you considered him a friend, and you had hoped he did too, so you were worried

“It’s nothing… I’ve just been busy, don’t worry your cute little head about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Dabi, I’m serious. What’s wrong?”

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair and staring back at you, “It’s – it’s stupid. I don’t want to talk about it.”

God he hated how concerned you looked, he could tell you cared about him and it weirded him out, but he loved it so much. He couldn’t help himself, as much as he wanted to push you away, he knew that he wanted to keep you around

“Still… if you change your mind, I’m here you-“ you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours – something you very much weren’t expecting to happen today but you sure as hell weren’t complaining

“That’s what’s wrong. I think I love you.”

You could see that he looked scared, but he wasn’t pulling away, so you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss on his lips, “Well, if it makes you feel better, I think I love you too.”

There was no formal asking out, just from that day on you were his. It still took some time for him to get used to it, not being familiar with how to act in a relationship, but with your help he got the hang of it

He loves when you watch him draw, he’s dubbed you his muse and therefore you being there helps inspire him

Wants to get matching tattoos with you eventually, and you know that if you want any more tattoos he’s gonna be the one to give you them, he might even let you do a tattoo or two for him

He’ll also do all your piercings for you, he’ll dye your hair for you - we love a boyfriend who supports you spicing up your look

Aw but you two dyeing each others hair would be so cute

Your relationship is pretty chill, like you guys only ever hang out at his apartment or go on dates in the middle of the night, sometimes clubbing or sometimes just walking around town, whatever you feel like honestly

You do go back to that one spot by the lake a l o t, you both love it there because it’s just full of memories of each other

When you met his friends you were probably a bit creeped out by them, you’ve never had any bad experiences with them but most of them looked pretty angry. But toga and jin were quick to accept you, and so you got to become friends with them too which was really important to Dabi because his friends are basically his family

When he told you about his dad – not him having to stop you from walking into his dad’s house and beating the shit out of that fucker, despite him very much wanting to watch you do it (he just doesn’t want you to get hurt/have to deal with the consequences of what that could bring – but if you were to bring out them fighting words during the next family dinner he’d definitely be very proud)

You’re welcome to move into his apartment whenever you want, after he’s decided he loves you you could propose and he’d probably say yes honestly- so you moving in isn’t an issue to him just tell him and he’ll help you bring all your stuff over

You might as well honestly, you’re there in most all your free time. You already have clothes in his closet, your school stuff is next to his - it just makes things so much easier

Besides, then you get to be around your hot emo bf even more than you already are, doesn’t that sound fun

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #dabi college au #touya todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha college au #dabi as a tattoo artist just feels right ya know

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depressing-debbie · 3 years ago

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fluffy alphabet for Bertholdt 💳💥💥💥💳💥💥💥💳 (if you want too ofc 💕💕)

Of courseee :)

I’m generally very unsure about the way I characterize Bertholdt, so if this is really crappy I apologize <3

As always, I'm using the prompt by @snk-warriors

Fluff Alphabet: Bertholdt

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He definitely likes more private activities, like maybe a picnic, for special occasions or date nights. In general, though, he just likes spending time with his SO. On an ordinary day, he’s happy just sitting with them while they both do some work or just watch TV. He’s more enjoying being in their presence than whatever activity they’re working on.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

This poor baby thinks absolutely everything about their SO is stunning. Like every time they walk into the room, he’s taken aback by how amazing they are. But really he does admire their personality more than anything, and it’s what he fell in love with.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I think he’s pretty uncomfortable at first just because he hates seeing his SO unhappy, and he really doesn’t know what to do. His instinct is to just sit down with them quietly and offer a shoulder to cry on. Unless they specifically ask that he do something else when this happens, he’ll probably continue to do it.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He honestly doesn’t think about the future much. He absolutely has a lot of inner conflict around his identity, and his future has never really been guaranteed. As long as his SO is with him, he’d be happy.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

It’s pretty equal, but I think he leads more towards a passive role just because of his personality. He’s a bit shy by nature, and arguably more of a follower than a leader, so I think he’d like to be the one that’s being protected in the relationship. At the same time, he’d definitely want to be the one protecting his SO, so it varies.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He doesn’t really instigate fights, and he’s not great with conflict. It makes him sort of retreat into himself, but because of how unhappy fighting makes him, he’s always open to talk and make up. He’s definitely rational in these situations, and he really wants to come to an agreement.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is BEYOND grateful. In his eyes, his SO is absolutely perfect, and he doesn’t even really feel like he’s deserving of their love and attention. He thanks them constantly, and he truly and deeply appreciates everything they do.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

In general, he’s very open and honest with his SO, especially with things that are serious or important. But, he also cares about them and doesn’t want to see them get hurt, so if he finds something out that could make them upset, he may decide not to tell them. He doesn’t love it, but it’s his way of subtly protecting them.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

His SO is probably a huge inspiration to him. Again, he thinks they are so amazing, and the idea that they would want to be with him gives him the slightest boost in confidence. I think they also help and encourage him to branch out and try new things, so they’re helping him get comfortable with lettin loose a bit.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He honestly does get jealous sometimes. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his SO completely, because he does, it’s just that he begins to question whether they would be better off with someone else. He may start to pull away a bit when he’s jealous, which is pretty easy to spot. And he can be pretty easily reminded that he doesn’t need to be jealous, with just some hugs and positive words.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Their first kiss was VERY awkward. He planned it for a while so the general pacing fit the relationship, but he probably messed up the timing in the moment, and it was really unexpected for his SO. It wasn’t bad necessarily, he just way overthought it, and he apologized about a thousand times afterwards. A bit later into the relationship, once he’s let himself relax a bit, it’s probably much easier for him, and he’s actually a pretty good kisser.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He spent a lot of time planning, again, but this time, I think he chose the perfect moment. They were probably just out for a late night walk when he looked over to see how beautifully the stars were lighting up their face, and he told them he loved them. It was really sweet, and he makes an effort to say it as much as he can from then on.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I don’t think he’s really though about marriage the same way that he hasn’t thought about his future. Legally combining another persons life with his when his own life isn’t even guaranteed is pretty frightening for him. But, if it’s something his SO wanted, he wouldn’t be opposed to it. He probably wouldn’t be the one to propose, but he’d be more than willing to help with the planning for the wedding (and he’s surprisingly good at it)

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Definitely something just a bit cheesy, like honey or darling. He also just loves to call you by your name, though, because he thinks it’s a beautiful name.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

There’s such a noticeable change when he first falls in love. He has an obvious air of confidence in his daily interactions, and he’s much less nervous in general. He also probably talks about his SO a lot more in conversation with other people, which is uncommon. He works hard to express it clearly for his SO, so he showers them with little praises and tiny acts of service.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He’s definitely a private person, especially with his relationship. His friends and family would be generally aware of it, and his SO is welcome to tell the people in their life as well. But he’s strongly anti-PDA; at most, he might hold their hand in a public setting or let them rest his head on their shoulders. He gets uncomfortable showing off something that’s meant for just the two of them.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

He’s incredibly empathetic to the point that he looks telepathic. He can almost always figure out what’s going through his SO’s mind at any given point and can predict how they will react to a situation. It also helps him be able to comfort them, and understand them more.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Probably a nice mix of both creative and cliche. He’s never gotten that cliche romantic relationship with teddy bears and dinner dates, so I think he’d indulge in that once in a while just to make his inner lonely teenager happy. But for the most part, he’s very creative, and they definitely don’t follow the confusing societal norms for relationships. He really is very romantic, though, even if it makes him a bit embarrassed.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He absolutely believes in and supports his SO more than anything! They are so terrific, and he knows they can do whatever they put their mind to. He’s only an optimist when it comes to them, and then he’s completely positive in the future. He admires their work ethic and strength in chasing their goals, especially when it’s something they’re passionate about.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I don’t think he would want to spice things up very often, he really just enjoys their nice, normal routine. It’s cozy and peaceful for him, and if he had the choice, he’d stay that way forever. But he’d also be more than happy to try something new with his SO, especially if it’s something they’re really interested in. Even if he doesn’t end up enjoying it all that much, as long as they’re happy, he’s happy.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Again, Bertholdt is ridiculously empathetic with his SO, so much so that he can practically read their mind. Even if they’re going through something he has no personal experience with, he can understand it through them. The root of this is just how well he knows them, and how much he cares about them.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is very important to him! He loves his SO so much, and they’ve helped him in so many ways. The relationship makes him really happy, and he probably wouldn’t trade it for the world.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

His SO gets sucked into his pattern of ridiculous sleeping positions. Some nights, they might end up getting pushed onto the floor. Most of the time, though, they just join right in with him and mix in with his crazy position. It’s pretty hilarious, and also pretty sweet.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He actually is really affectionate. Even though he can be pretty awkward, he’s so much happier when he can be physically close to his SO. It calms him down a lot, and it’s so much more peaceful. He probably wouldn’t initiate cuddling towards the beginning of the relationship, but once he gets more comfortable with them, he’d definitely go and just silently ask for attention by putting his arms around them and resting his head on their shoulder.

Y earning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

His SO is like his safety blanket, so I think he gets more anxious when they’re not there. He would never tell them that, though, because he doesn’t want them to feel bad at all. In fact, he would probably make himself more anxious trying to hide that he’s anxious, and it would just cycle like that. He probably just relies on his friends a lot while his SO is gone, and he does fine.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He would absolutely do what it takes to keep his relationship strong. He’s a total gentleman, and he really just wants his SO to be happy, so he’d go to any lengths to make this happen.

#attack on titan #attack on titan bertholdt #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #snk headcanons #snk #bertholt hoover #bertholdt hoover #i love bertholdt #bertholdt headcanons #bertholdt fluff #bertoldt hoover #bertolt hoover

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

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Hi!!

Villain’s lover finding out that villain is a villain?

You did something like this before and I really liked it lol

Hiya! I definitely don’t remember doing something like this (maybe the love potion/spell story?), but I’d be happy to write this haha.

******

Pacing in the kitchen, Lover bit her nails until her teeth met skin. A few fingertips bled and even then, she continued to chow down on the dead skin surrounding her short nails. She didn’t know what else to do with her hands; they were shaking, and they wouldn’t stop.

The news still played in the background. Lover considered time and time again to turn it off, but she couldn’t because moving on would be easier if she turned it off. This wasn’t something to be ignored. Not at all. But at the same time, when she deliberately thought of it, she nearly ripped her hair out.

Where was she supposed to go? She couldn’t just up and leave, could she? That was a mean thing to do and her- her husband was…Lover looked at the tv again. The same image was on the screen- blurred from a clip of action, but no less recognizable. The masked villain- now unmasked for the first time ever- was, without a doubt, Lover’s significant other. What would he do to her if she left?

But she was running out of time. She didn’t know that for sure, but if she were a villain- or hero, or anyone who needed to hide her identity- and her face was realized, she would haul ass back home, or- or anywhere where she wouldn’t be known. So, maybe Villain wouldn’t come home at all. Maybe her internal conflict was pointless for this very time being, but…if he did come home and she wasn’t gone, she’d be trapped. And if he did come home and she was gone, she’d be likely hunted. Right? Isn’t that what happened in the movies? Or books? Or…well, Lover hadn’t really seen this scenario if she was honest.

Lover liked to watch the ditzy princess movies. She even had a magazine subscription to “Royals Suggest…”, a collection of fashion statement clothing worn by royalty around the world, all too expensive for Lover to ever buy, but she enjoyed looking. This. This is what Lover knew; a bunch of too-expensive designer clothing brand names. She didn’t know what to do when her husband was a madman who destroyed cities just to listen to their screams. Or what to do when-

A door clicked open and Lover’s eyes went wide. She let her bloodied fingers drop to her sides, then thought better of it and hid them behind her back. Maybe she should have grabbed a knife.

Listening intently now, Lover heard her partner’s footsteps tread through the house. He was in the living room, she could tell, and she suddenly felt very sorry for herself for having not turned the television off earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut and sunk to the cold, tiled floor quietly. Behind the island counter, Lover hoped she wouldn’t be found. Villain would have no reason to come into the kitchen- not yet at least. He always took his bag- that’s where his suit and mask must have been all along, dammit- to their bedroom after greeting Lover.

What if he didn’t go to his bedroom before trying to find Lover? She’d be found easily. Their house wasn’t enormous- not necessarily small, but Villain wouldn’t have to wander around forever. What was she even planning on doing, though? Lover’s mind was so panicked at this point that she only wanted to hide forever.

Wouldn’t that be a trip- for her to hide in her own house forever without Villain knowing and chasing her around city to city? Lover sighed, shaking her head. If she did that- or if she left at all, Villain would destroy even more just to find her. Then it wouldn’t be Villain’s fault, it would be hers. A villain’s accomplice, even if she hadn’t meant for him to respond that way.

So, what did she do, then? Self-sacrifice? Live with Villain, despite knowing who and what he was- what he was. What he is. He’s capable of so much- just to preserve everyone else? Lover couldn’t be with this man, but she couldn’t let anyone be harmed because she decided to run away.

“Lover? What are you doing on the floor? And with the lights off?”

Lover gasped, putting a hand to her even-more-rapidly beating heart. She sighed, setting herself into a calmer mindset- if that was even possible. “I- my head was hurting.” A loud bang resonated from the television- from the news, where they were still talking about Villain, but she pretended she wasn’t listening. “Actually, will you…turn the tv off? I was going to when I went back to the living room, but” -she shrugged on the floor- “I didn’t exactly make it back. It was playing-”

“Sh, sh, sh. You’ll give yourself a bigger headache if you don’t stop talking.” Villain chuckled, and began walking to the living room, but not before he bent down and planted a kiss on Lover’s forehead.

He didn’t buy it. There was no way he bought her act.

Wincing as she heard Villain hum in the living room, she watched as he passed back through the kitchen into the hall which led to their room. Lover picked herself back up off the floor and opened the fridge, pulling out a bag of whole carrots. Next, she grabbed a cutting board and a knife. She began chopping.

When Villain walked back in, she asked, “How was work today?” Lover asked this every day, but this was the first time she ever swallowed after asking. Chop, chop, chop, chop.

“It was an exhausting day, but- let me do this for you. You have a headache. I don’t want you to chop your fingers off by accident.”

“No, it’s fine. I got it.” Chop, chop, ch-

He grabbed her wrist lightly then plucked the knife from her hands. Villain nodded forward, telling her to sit on one of the barstools opposite of him. Lover felt she had no choice; she did as she suggested, even if it hadn’t been in a villainous way.

“Work was tiring. Some idiot decided to hack one of our major programs. Wasn’t as secure as we thought, so tonight I’ll have to do some repairs, and tomorrow…I’ll just have to trace the hack back to the original device and shut it down, so it doesn’t happen again.”

What he meant, Lover thought, was this; Hero managed to steal the mask off my face today in front of a hundred reporters and now everyone knows who I am, so tonight I’m going to fix my mask- just to poke the bear- and I’m going to find Hero so I can kill them. She wanted the knife back.

“How long has your head been hurting?” The question was so innocent, but Lover knew- God, she just knew what he was getting at. The news had been on when he came home. He knew she saw and now he was playing with her.

Lover blinked, and then blinked again. Lie, she thought to herself, but she couldn’t think of a number. “I don’t know.”

“That bad, huh?”

She nodded slightly as she played with her fingers beneath the table. Her fingertips were so incredibly raw from her chewing at them in all her nervousness, but touching the sensitive spots was the only thing keeping her together. The tiny tinges of pain were grounding her.

“Did they report about the hack on the news?”

Her chest tightened. “I- I don’t know.” A sharp inhale and a thumb gesturing to the blank television. “I was watching Flintstones when I got the headache. I- uh- I stopped paying attention.” Lover looked down at her fingers before looking up again. “Do you remember the dino’s name from the show?”

Still chopping the vegetables, Villain said, “I don’t.” Chop. Chop. “I thought Flintstones played on a different channel? Weird, that it came on before the news.”

“Guess it was a special.”

Villain smiled at Lover and laid the knife down, bending so that both of his elbows touched the table. “I wonder if this happened to Hero when I ripped their mask off a month ago.”

Lover tried to control her reaction- she did. Despite her effort, her eyes widened, and she remembered to squint instead. “What do you mean?” A false and singular laugh. “Did you have a silly dream last night?” She gave a smile, a loving one, a teasing one.

Continuing like Lover hadn’t spoken at all, he said, “I’m sure there were many hugs involved. Maybe even kissing. Everyone loves a hero, right?”

“Whoever fights him clearly doesn’t,” Lover tried. Maybe if she referred to the situation from a third person perspective then he would drop it. She was an observer of the media, and she had a headache when it was on today. That was all.

“Maybe I should be happy you’re pretending not to know, but then that would just be ignorant, wouldn’t it be?”

“Villain, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are…Are you feeling okay? Maybe you should take a nap.” She didn’t want to, but Lover reached across the island counter and intertwined her fingers with Villain’s as they were lain on the table. “You said it was a rough day at work. A nap is always a nice stress reliever.”

He hummed in return, just like he did when he turned the tv off. Lover had thought asking him to do that was such a brilliant idea- thought it proved she was paying no attention to it. “You had a headache you couldn’t even stand from, but the moment I walked away from you, you found an excuse to start chopping carrots.” His fingers flexed- barely- as he said the word ‘chopping’. If anyone had been watching the interaction, they wouldn’t have even noticed the way his grip became tighter.

Lover told him, “It was no excuse. I always make dinner when you come home- even through a headache.” She smiled at him again. How long could she keep this up? How long until he accepted she was telling the truth?

“Come here. I’m going to show you something.”

“But the carr-”

“The carrots will be fine.”

Villain pulled her along through the kitchen and the hall until they walked into their bedroom. Lover could feel her heart throbbing against her chest. She already knew what he was doing. He was making it so that she couldn’t deny what she already knew anymore; Villain was a villain.

“You can sit on the bed while I grab it.”

There was no way out of this. Maybe she should have insisted she stayed in the kitchen while he grabbed his bag, but he wouldn’t have fallen for that. He would have known what she was up to, even if she didn’t.

Lover remained in the doorway of their bedroom, feeling safer there than in the bedroom where there was no hall to run down as an escape. “If I sit on the bed, I might fall asleep in it,” she said to Villain with a tiny chuckle.

“Naps are always a nice stress reliever.” She didn’t like how he threw her own words back at her.

Maybe she should just admit what she knew. Maybe if she did, this wouldn’t be so prolonged and drawn out. If she admitted it, she could stop wondering what he would do to her.

With a deep breath, she began, “I-” but what to say? Lover nearly told him she wanted this relationship they had to be normal, that she just wanted to go back to being a regular, human, husband and wife. This wasn’t what she wanted, though. She wanted to be rid of him. “I saw the news, if that’s what you want to hear.” Her head ducked down as Villain dropped the bag and walked towards her in the doorway.

His hand touched beneath her chin and she sucked in a broken breath. Villain tilted her head up gently. “It wasn’t so hard to admit, was it? Tell me why you were so scared to tell me.”

Shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut, she reached up towards the hand on her chin, wanting to push it away. Villain caught her wrist with his free hand. She didn’t use her own free hand to try again. His touch was gentle, but Lover knew what it- what he- was capable of. He could crush her. Easily.

“Why couldn’t you admit it?”

“Don’t,” She gasped because of her panicked lungs. “Don’t make me say. You know the answer.” Because she was scared. Because everything was up in the air, now, unpredictable. He was unpredictable. What if he tried to kill her?

Villain’s head tilted and he stared into his lover’s eyes. “You aren’t the only one who knows. You aren’t the only one to watch the news. It would be foolish of me to act against you because then I’d have to do the same to everyone else, too. Exhausting.” His hand left Lover’s chin and went to her hair. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. “Not to mention, I do love you. You know that, right?”

She shook her head again. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because- because you- you’re…” He was a monster, but she couldn’t say that, not so blatantly.

Taking a deep breath, Villain smirked- not deviously, but intriguingly. “I haven’t the opportunity to use this yet.”

“W-what?” Lover’s breaths picked up speed, and she didn’t feel as terrified as she used her free hand to push Villain away. “Use what?” What else could he do? On television, he could fly, and he was strong, but that- that was it! There was nothing else. “Stay away. Stay away from me, Villain. Please.” She kept her head at a downward angle, not wanting to face him- never wanting to face him ever again.

Villain was perfectly calm as he took a step towards her, forcing her back into the wall of the hall. She had no room to run. “Look at me, Lover. Just look at me, okay?”

“No. No, why?” Her hands were pressed, fingers flayed against the wall behind her.

“Because,” he said, and placed a hand on her cheek. She flinched, but what he said next made her stupidly look up. “I want you to see how much I love you. Eyes are windows to the soul, aren’t they? Just look at me, the way you did the day of our wedding.”

‘Eyes are windows to the soul.’

Yes, they certainly were.

Lover blinked, her eyes falling to Villain’s nose- a button nose, one that made her smile. She bopped it with a finger as she always did. “You’re home,” she said to Villain. “How was work?”

#request fill #hero x villain #hero x villain story #evil villain #manipulative villain #lady whump #psychological whump #ish #secret identity revealed #I will probably timezone reblog this one lol

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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years ago

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Do you think that making Chinese food is cultural appropriation? I'm white and started making some of the foods I saw in the shows I've watched since the untamed, but now I'm worried I'm appropriating the culture.

Hi anon,

As a fellow white person, I am also someone who needs to critically reflect on how I engage with different cultures. I can't give you the definitive answer you seek, the clear absolution from any potential wrongdoings; in its stead, I can only offer to share my current thought process on this topic. I’d still encourage you to seek other perspectives, and many people have written or spoken on this topic.

I believe we must first acknowledge that, on the terrain of the internet, discussions regarding cultural appropriation have reached a certain... extreme where some people view all forms of cultural exchanges as inherently suspect. They purport that so long as you stay within the bounds of ‘your’ culture, you will problematic behaviours. That perspective is inherent flawed. That is, it relies on a vision of culture as ‘bounded entities’ that exist in themselves. In reality, the ‘stuff’ that makes culture is emergent, existing only relationally, dialectically--it is a not a ‘thing’ that moves through time but an idea which is constantly negotiated and reproduced in relation to power and changing material realities to remain relevant and intelligible. The boundaries of cultural and ethnic groups are fuzzy, overlapping, and constantly being reworked and made meaningful. As an illustration, many of the food I grew up eating was influenced by ingredients and recipes immigrants brought in the 19th and 20th centuries, yet these dishes were understood as 'typically ours’. And it needs to be acknowledged that most of what is currently considered ‘white people food’ relies on ingredients that were introduced to our diet through colonialism and the violent dispossession of indigenous peoples (and, often, the current day exploitation of workers in the South and of migrant workers). No food can be truly ‘traditionally ours’, whatever the purported ‘we’ ends up being brought into the equation, and no eating behaviours can avoid the historical legacy and continuity of violence and power.

Of course, as people who exist in the world, we know that there are cultural differences. Bakhtin’s insights on language through the tensions between centripedal (ie towards uniformity, a common meaning) and centrifugal (toward diversity and change) forces can be expanded to help us conceptualise how we make sense of the way a ‘culture’ is perpetuated through time as something meaningful in our daily lives. Uniformity allows intelligibility, sense-making, but diversity and change are inescapable by-products of individuals and groups repeatedly going through life, meeting and trying to create intelligibility and sense together in a world that cannot stay the same. It is at the intersection of these two conflicting forces that something can be different yet considered the same--that we can create continuity out of change. But something perhaps less emphasized in Bakhtin’s discussions is how much power and material realities work on these forces. Power influences both centripedal and centrifugal forces, if only in orchestrating circumstances that shape how one encounters ‘different cultures’ or reproduces their 'own' culture.

We live at a moment where the world seems to have reached an apex of connectivity--where goods, people, ideas (and viruses) move across distance and borders at speeds that defy comprehension. Yet the way goods, people and ideas move (through which canals and systems? in which direction? to the benefits of whom? at the expense of whom? to what reception or use? in the service of which institutions and ideologies?) or are, inversely, incapable or unwilling to move, is influenced by power and material realities. It is inescapable.

In a roundabout way, what I’m trying to say is that it's useless to try to live life in 'your lane' by turning to a baseline 'culture' because we simply do not have a baseline culture to return to that is 'safe' from the influences of other cultures or the taint of the historical legacy and continuity of violence. So how do I personally reconcile that with how I engage with content that is produced from different cultural contexts, and how I engage with cooking food that is influenced by different cultural contexts? For me the guidelines I take into consideration are respect, attribution and avoiding forms of dehumanisation. These emerged out of witnessing how other white people have acted as well as critically reflecting on how I have acted in the past, and trying to do better (including of course, by listening to different perspectives on the topic). [just in case, warning for examples of racism/micro-agressions] I've been in China with white people who would praise the cooking we were eating in the same breath they were making jokes about dog meat. I've witnessed in Japan a dude decide not to come to an izakaya with Japanese colleagues, fucking off on his own to Akihabara instead, because he was disappointed he couldn’t talk about anime with them--too obsessed with the idealised version of Japan he’d created in his head to treat the Japanese people he met as people. The internet is full of white people telling you how to cook food from places they've never been and taking credit for 'popularising' that dish or 'making it better'. That's not even talking about the tendency for food to become a mark of a cosmopolitan, metropolitan identity in the West--the open-minded, the liberal, the traveler, the hip white person up with the times and beyond the mainstream. Hell, I've even seen people who act as if eating ‘ethnic’ food prepared by immigrants is the singular proof that they were people who cared about immigrants' well-being.

Food is rarely just about food, even when consumed at home. At the same time, we’d be remiss in all these discussions of power to dismiss how food is also one of oldest things we, as humans, want to share with others--including strangers. Feeding is nourishing and giving, eating is accepting into ourselves something made by others. Most people appreciate it when the value of a dish that holds importance for them is recognised by others--although, of course, many might understandably also resent that they have been discriminated against or mocked for eating that same food. Every time I’ve been invited in an immigrant household or at events with mostly immigrants, I’ve felt this sense of almost trepidation emanating from them, waiting for my reaction, and satisfaction once I was seen eating and appreciating the food they had served me--as if the acceptance of the food that was tied to their identity was a form of acceptance of who they were. Of course this can’t be disentangled from past experiences where other people might have been disrespectful, dismissive or outright racist: but the excitement they had in sharing food that had meaning to them and seeing others appreciate it was genuine.

Beyond situations of clear cultural sharing, where we get closer to what appears to be ‘cultural appropriation’, I believe that we cannot act as if there is something inherently sacrilegious in the idea of adapting recipes or using a specific ingredients in new ways--that’s centrifugal forces at play, and they have provided us with many dishes we love today: from immigrant creations like butter chicken to things like spicy kimchi. We cannot work with the assumption that people will only react with hostility at the idea of other people cooking the food they grew with, even in ways that are different from how they’re traditionally used and are thus “not authentic”. I still remember an interaction I had in a Korean grocery store, once upon a time when I lived in a metropolitan city. A man in front of me at the cash register who had been buying snacks and chatting with the employee in Korean looked at my stuff and suddenly asked me if I knew the name of the leafy green I was buying. I wasn’t necessarily surprised because I had overheard in the past customers and employees commenting in Korean about being surprised about the ingredients I, a white person, was purchasing, thinking I couldn’t understand them. I confirmed to him that I knew I was buying mustard greens. He then asked me what I was planning to do with them, and I explained that while I didn’t think it’s a traditional or common way of using it, I personally liked to add them to kimchi jjigae because it compliments their bitter/strong taste and I like leafy greens in my soups and stews. He said it was interesting, and that he was kind of impressed. The employee chimed to tell me I should be honoured at the compliment because the man was actually a chef who owned famous Korean fusion restaurants in the city. That was clearly someone who took Korean food very seriously and clearly had a certain degree of suspicion regarding how white people interacted with it, but he was also curious and interested in seeing how I approached ingredients without having grown up eating them.

Another point of contention is also that we cannot ignore that food is a sensual experience and that, while tastes are greatly influenced by our environment, they are not solely so. I grew up hating most of the food my parents would serve me, and started cooking in my early teens to avoid having to eat it. Before I started cooking, I would often just eat rice with (in hindsight horrible) western-brand soy sauce instead of the meal my mom had made. When I ate Indian food for the first time during a trip at the ripe age of 16, it blew my mind that food could taste like this. Of course I never wanted to look back, and with each years I discovered that a lot of Asian cuisines fit my palate better than what I grew up eating or other cuisines I had tried. When I was a teenager we visited my mom’s friend in France and I hated what she served us so much I’d simply choose to nibble on bread, prompting her to try to stage an intervention for my ‘obvious’ anorexia. Yet, being in China made me realise ingredients I thought I hated had just been cooked in ways I disliked. Do my taste buds absolve me from any need to think critically about how I interact with food? Of course not. But sometimes the reason we want to cook certain recipes and foods is just that it tastes great to us, and we want to reproduce the recipes we enjoyed with the ingredients and the skills we have. Or, really, sometimes we just want to try new tastes because we do a lot of eating throughout our lives, and it seems a waste to limit ourselves to a narrow number of dishes for decades to come.

So that’s where I currently am in my thinking about this topic, as a white person who cooks dishes influenced by a number of different places but who is also not trying to cook in a way that is necessarily authentic. Some things that I keep in mind that you can ask yourself now that cdramas and cnovels have made you interested in Chinese cooking is: are you taking this as an opportunity to support immigrant businesses when getting your ingredients? are you supporting white creators when looking for chinese recipes (some suggestion of youtube channels: Made with Lau, Chinese cooking Demystified, Family in Northwest China, 西北小强 Xibeixiaoqiang, 小高姐的 Magic Ingredients)? are you being respectful (not reproducing harmful stereotypes in how you talk about chinese food and the people who eat it)? do you use your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about China and Chinese people that denies them, in some way, of their complexity and humanity? are you using your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about yourself?

In conclusion I will leave you with a picture of some misshapen baozi I’ve made.

#anon ask #caution: word vomit ahead

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rein-ette · 3 years ago

Note

Are you still working on your Commonwealth study? Do you have any thoughts on Arthur's relationships with his colonies apart from Canzuk + US?

Not properly, unfortunately with exams and then work I haven’t had mental/emotional capacity to do real research (and probably won’t for a while 😔). But I have continued to think about and develop certain relationships, and I think I also have old hcs I’ve never shared, so I’ll put those down!

Born into the Empire

Australia

@oumaheroes has already done such great hcs on him idk what I can add, but basically he was a little bit of a rowdy child, always breaking windows and shattering fancy pots, never able to sit still. I think rainbow once mentioned that Ken (short for Kenneth, my name for Aus) was a lot like England as a child in his curiosity and energy, and I wholeheartedly agree. But I think Arthur’s intensity was more inwardly directed, pushing him to pursue and master new talents and learn whatever he could, while Australia is a little more carefree in his love for the outdoors, exploring, jumping around and off things, little wild animals. Unfortunately for him, he was born in a period of the empire when Arthur was very serious about his kids education, and therefore often praised those who studied hard and learned fast, which really just wasn’t Australia’s cup of tea. Australia took this kinda hard and thought he was the “dumb” one in the family that Arthur was always scolding, but in reality Arthur knew and appreciated that Australias interests lay elsewhere — he was just a frustrated, tired, parent who really wanted to give his kids the best while also holding his empire together, two goals that were never going to fit well in the end and would completely exhaust him.

As Australia’s grown older he’s realized a bit of this (not entirely, though) and also that 1) he really did break a lot expensive things and cause general mayhem 2) scolding us Arthur’s way of showing he cares, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have payed attention to him at all 3) despite being a penal colony, he was still one of Arthur’s more “legitimate” children (being white and a boy) and was therefore still incredibly privileged — never having to question, for example, why it was that Arthur was his dad, if it should be this way, or if he had a seat at the family table at all (more on this later).

New Zealand

Zee, from birth, was a clear favourite. Obedient, calm, quietly intelligent, he would also later develop a blistering sense of humour which combined with his appearance made it overwhelmingly clear who’s child he was. If Ken questioned his place in the family because of his poor academic record and others did because of their appearance/race/other complications, Kaelan never had such problems; his siblings called him the “prince.” Zee, however, also had a charm that, like Matthew, endeared him to his siblings and mostly protected him from jealousy, though he certainly still had issues with being called a try hard, daddy’s boy, bossy, arrogant. Certainly as a child Zee was a little prideful and, under that unperturbed demeanour, willful, but he grew out of it by the 20th century and became one of those most trusted by Arthur, second only to Matthew. He’s also always been inseparable from his brother Australia despite their differences, and today they both have one of the healthiest and most amicable relationships with Arthur of any nation, let alone former colonies (family road trips, every summer).

Bermuda

I absolute fell in love with this girl after reading about here, once, in this fic by @shachaai, and after that my mind just ran away with me. For me, her human name given to her by Arthur just has to be Ariel — for the little mermaid reference, yes, symbolizing her connection to the sea and stunning good looks, but also because:

1. Ariel is a biblical name, meaning lion of God. This makes sense to me, because Bermuda began as a Portuguese trade post, so Arthur definitely consulted our resident bad catholic Port before naming her.

2. Ariel used to be boys name. This also makes sense, because I hc Bermuda was and still is a tomboy. Bitch is fierce, takes no prisoners, and has zero filter. Her letters to Arthur, which all the colonies sent so Arthur could keep an eye on things, were full of shit like “I swear to god if the Spanish don’t get out of my waters I might eat one of them,” and “father, I asked you for destroyers two months ago, and yet you sent them to Hong Kong — could you explain this most unusual occurrence, surely it’s not that you forgot”, and “thank you for the harpoon on my birthday, I caught a small shark a couple days ago and have sent you some of its teeth for your collection.” Arthur tolerates this attitude because he’s weak when it comes to girls; he absolutely spoils his daughters (and flushes like a 16 year old when a woman so much as bats her eyelashes at him). Yes, p*ssywhipped Arthur is a hill I will die on.

3. It also suits her because? Ariel? Shakespeare? The Tempest? Bermuda Triangle? Shipwrecks? Daughter-like figure of powerful and vengeful sorcerer? Yeah. And this girl is a fire spirit — she is so lively, snarky, clever. As she’s grown older she’s mellowed out a little, but still: a no shit taken, no fucks given type of gal.

4. Speaking of growing up, she’s also become quite the beauty. Shacha, if I’m remembering correctly, described her as dark skinned, wavy-haired, and green eyed and that image has been burned onto the back of my eyelids ever since. Those Iberian genetics really be pulling through for her, that’s for sure. Engport love child if I’ve ever seen one. Definitely one of the prettiest in her family.

Singapore

I’ve already mentioned this to needcake, but I’m not too big a fan of canon Singapore, so this is my oc version. Singapore is fascinating to me because it had only a very small local population before it became a colony (The original settlement had actually been destroyed by the Portuguese about two centuries before the British started building a port there.) So nation-tans like Singapore and Bermuda really are Arthur’s children in the most direct sense of the word. And yet, Singapore is mostly ethnically Chinese, with Malays being the second largest group. Growing up Asian in a white, Victorian era family surely cannot have been easy and more than once Singapore probably wondered if there hadn’t been some mistake. To make up for the constant fear that he wasn’t “really” British, Singapore studied ferociously and had a truly terrifying work ethic. I’m not sure if this is common knowledge outside Asian circles, so I’ll mention that this hc comes from the fact Singapore is well known for having truly exceptional students and some of the most prestigious schools. Singaporeans score highly in literally everything and they have an advantage with good English learning environments, a highly desirable trait in Asia, but these results come from brutally long hours — and its really saying something that they’re known for working hard, considering the studying ethic of students in Korea, Japan, and China aint nothing to sneeze at, either. To me this actually fits really well with Singapore’s upbringing in Arthur’s household, because Arthur himself prizes intelligence and hard work above all else, being a workaholic himself.

As for their relationship, it was probably the best when Singapore was young and peaked in the 1930s with the massive naval base the British built at Singapore, at the time the largest dry dock in the world. Singapore was a well-behaved child, not necessarily introverted but not rowdy either, and all the way into his teenage years he truly admired Arthur and was proud to be a part of the British Empire, despite his lingering unease and insecurities. The British defeat in World War II, however, was a massive turning point. He had worked his ass off to be a good son, a good brother, to contribute to the only family and system he had ever known, and he had thought by the 30s he was finally on his way to becoming a fine adult. And suddenly, the British surrender brings his entire world crashing down. He had followed the rules faithfully thinking it was his destiny, but suddenly it was clear that all rules were made up. Of course, his insecurities exploded. If the empire was a ruse, what the hell was he? A part of the illusion? He couldn’t have a truly Asian identity, because many of the old East Asian nations shunned him for his Western upbringing, and he could not entirely understand their values either. So he was a kid who kinda had to figure out late and very very suddenly who the fuck he was and wanted to be.

And, well, he’s done pretty well for himself, hasn’t he. After having a total crisis and questioning everything, I think Singapore slowly started to realize that just because the British Empire as a political entity didn’t last forever, that didn’t mean that his entire childhood and identity weren’t real. The love he gave to his siblings and the love he got back, the hard work he put in, his bond with Arthur and the safe, happy childhood he had — those memories and feelings didnt have to be diminished by what came after. Essentially, he learned the lesson all nations have to learn, which is that one needs to be able to discern between duties as a nation and feelings as a human being, and to some extent keep them separate to protect both.

Whoooooo ok I’ll stop there because this turned into a dissertation, sorry. Let me know if there are any specifics u want me to elaborate on or anything I missed, but I’ll leave this here for today :)

#hws england #hws Australia #hws new zealand #oc: hws Bermuda #not gonna tag anymore I’m lazy #fun times with the commonwealth #I probably won’t write so much for all of them I just put it there to remind myself #needcake #ask #my hcs

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vampish-glamour · 3 years ago

Text

I was tagged in this by @ugh-fml but was recently blocked by OP for, unbeknownst to me, being a terf. Their reasoning for my supposed terfy ways; believing enbies can’t be lesbians. Which is the opposite of what terfs believe, but I guess that doesn’t matter because as we all know, “terf” means “person (lesbian) I don’t agree with and who makes me feel invalid”.

I’d still like to respond, because I have Thoughts.

Okay, let’s break this down.

For the whole “validity” aspect, I’ll link this post. I was actually going to include it here… but decided it should be it’s own post. So that post will cover anything here that makes an argument based on “validity”.

Now let’s look at the whole “it’s their business if they want to call themselves something that doesn’t describe them, people who that word does describe can’t complain” thing.

I’m not transgender. I don’t experience gender dysphoria, I have no desire to transition. I am comfortable with my birth sex, my birth pronouns, my birth name, everything.

But you know what…”transgender” just has such a nice ring to it. And the flag is really pretty, pink blue and white are just such a nice colour combination. I think I’m going to call myself transgender.

No, I’m not planning on transitioning from one gender/sex to the other. No, I don’t have any discomfort with my birth sex. No, the word “transgender” literally does not describe me. But it just feels right. So transgender people have no right to come and tell me that I’m not valid, because I get to pick my own identity and it’s my own business and I’m valid!! I am a female to female (FtF) transgender!!! If trans people don’t accept me as one of them, they’re FtFphobic. And to those of you who say I don’t fit the definition of transgender; I changed the definition to fit me. It doesn’t fit transgender people anymore, but that’s okay because I feel good.

I would really hope that this sounds ridiculous to you. I would hope that anyone who reads that, especially transgender people, would be rolling their eyes and ready to tell me off if I were being serious.

It doesn’t matter if I think a word (in this case, transgender) feels good, or if I think it’s my new identity. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you I’m valid. The word does not describe me, and I therefore should not and can not use it. And if I insisted on using it despite it not describing me, trans people absolutely have the right to make it their business, because I’d be hijacking a word they use to describe themselves and using it in a way it’s not intended to be used (and in a way that it doesn’t make sense to use).

Apply this to combining nonbinary and lesbian.

Lesbian is understood to be a descriptive word of women’s homosexuality. Nonbinary is understood to be a descriptive word for those whose gender falls outside of the binary.

The two do not mix. If you say “I am a lesbian”, you are saying that you are a homosexual woman. If you say that you are nonbinary, you are saying that you are not a woman and not a man.

So to say “I am a nonbinary lesbian”, you are literally saying “I am not a woman or a man and I am a homosexual woman”.

It makes no sense.

Now regarding my above statement on how I could claim to be transgender despite not being transgender… the ridiculousness of that statement is what many people, especially homosexual women, see when we see people claiming to be a “nonbinary lesbian”. We see somebody who quite literally does not fit the definition of lesbian, calling themselves a lesbian for no good reason. We see somebody changing the definition of a term we use to describe our sexuality (note: sexuality, not identity).

On the part about “journey to discovery of self”….

What are you even talking about? What journey? What discovery? This seriously just sounds like some words strung together to sound profound and meaningful when they just… aren’t.

Yes, figuring out sexuality and gender can be a journey for some people. Redefining words and calling yourself something that doesn’t describe you doesn’t necessarily need to be part of that journey. Seriously, “lesbian = woman” is not a hard concept to grasp. If your little self discovery journey leads you to discovering you’re not a woman, congratulations, you’ve automatically discovered that you’re not a lesbian.

“Nonbinary lesbians have told me they’re lesbians, and that’s good enough for me”.

How dense. Just because somebody tells you something, doesn’t mean it’s true. I just told you earlier in this post that I’m transgender despite not being transgender in the most basic sense of the word. If I were to say what I said with complete seriousness, would that be good enough for you?? Would me, a cis girl, simply telling you that I’m FtF transgender, be good enough for you to believe that I really am transgender?? What if I started spreading my idea for FtF and got a bunch of other people on board? What if you had a bunch of FtF people telling you we’re transgender, because we saw a bunch of Tumblr posts about it and believe we’re valid trans people? Would that be good enough for you to support the idea of FtF transgender??

I certainly hope not. Because there’s no such thing as being both cisgender and transgender at the same time. Just like there’s no such thing as being not a woman, and a woman exclusively attract to women, at the same time.

And I’d like to ask, why do they think they can call themselves lesbians? Why do they want to call themselves lesbians? Why is it that people who claim to not be a binary gender, want to use a term that is binary in nature? Why do they feel the need to use a term that does not describe them?

And using the definition of lesbian that says “lesbian means woman exclusively attracted to women”, because that’s what it meant before a bunch of enbies changed it to suit their wants… what about “woman exclusively attracted to women” describes a nonbinary person in the way it describes a homosexual woman?

“You know what it’s like to be told what you should or should not be”

Yeah, I do. I see people telling homosexuals all the time that homosexuality is a sin, that it’s a temptation, that it’s unnatural, that we should get therapy to “fix” our sexuality, that our natural sexuality should be criminalized, that we should be killed for being homosexual… I could go on.

This is nowhere close to being the same as enbies being told that they cannot claim to be both genderless and a homosexual woman.

To even imply that homosexuals being told all of those things, and enbies being told to not be contradictory, are the same thing… is tone deaf and incredibly fucking insensitive.

Being told that your sexuality is unnatural and that you should change, is not the same as being told that the labels you’ve picked out for your “identity” are contradictory.

So I’m not even going to take that argument seriously, because what homosexuals are told about being homosexual, and what “nonbinary lesbians” are told about being “nonbinary lesbians”, ARE NOT THE SAME OR EVEN COMPARABLE.

At the end of all this… there is still no concrete reasoning for why somebody should be able to use a label that doesn’t describe them. Why somebody should be able to redefine that label to fit them, why they even need it to fit them in the first place.

“They’re valid” is not an argument.

“They told me so” is not an argument.

“It’s their identity” is not an argument.

What I am saying, which is;

“you cannot be both genderless and a homosexual woman. That is contradictory. You cannot use a label that doesn’t describe you, and you cannot redefine it to describe you if you cannot give a solid reason why it should describe you in the first place”,

that is an argument.

#glam’s #long post #despite my views about nb that my followers likely know… I tried to be as neutral about it here as possible

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