#aka things i quote on a daily basis

[minimoll7]

Losing a 10 year friendship is so incredibly odd and depressing for me. I don't know what to do about it. This was one of the very, very few people I didn't get drained around. I struggle so much with socializing and yet she was one of the very few it wasn't a struggle with. She meant everything to me, I considered her family. She was the best friend I always wanted to have. I talked to her on a near daily basis, I told her almost everything

And now she's gone. I'm not gonna wake up to messages from her anymore. I can't tell her about my day anymore. I can't send her drawings that I've doodled or pics of my dogs anymore. I can't share my ideas with her anymore. Or send her quotes from my favorite Youtubers that I think she'd get a laugh out of. I can't see what she's working on anymore, how she's feeling or what funny stuff she liked to share. Its gone. All of its gone and I'm not getting it back

I thought things were fine. Sure there was some issues but nothing that couldn't be worked on. I enjoyed talking to her every day. I had fun with her all the time. But then I found out that this was all one sided. That I've been lied to for about 2 years. What do I do with this information? How much of our conversations were lies? What was genuine? I feel like my trust has been broken and I fear that this will affect my current friendships and future ones. Am I going to fear now that people are just being nice to me simply to please me and not hurt my feelings?? I struggle bad enough as it is actually talking to my current friends, now I fear I'm going to struggle to believe what's being said to me, that any of the kindness thrown my way isn't real

I ultimately feel at a loss. Its jarring. I've lost friends in the past but it was often because we drifted apart or I had to cut contact because the other side was abusive towards me or had issues with my faith (aka friendship was conditional. Tho one case a friend cut contact with me because apparently I am a bad person for reasons she made up and blocked me without ever giving me a chance to defend myself lmao). All of that still sucked and was hard to handle but its nothing like this. None of it is hurting as much as this one is. She doesn't hate me, I know this is incredibly hard for her to. Its a very new experience for me and I'm sure its gonna take me a long time to adjust

I really don't know what to do about this other than pray to God. I've been handling things a lot better than expected so far, which I am very grateful for, but I ultimately don't know what the future's going to hold for me. I could be handling it well now but then completely lose my mind down the road. Its just.. so odd. So much of my life was influenced by this friendship and now its all gone. It hurts, it hurts a lot

But despite all that, despite learning that I was being lied to for so long to the point I now have worries about how genuine something was, I can still say that she was one of the best friends I've ever had and I am incredibly grateful to have her in my life. And I can only hope and pray that she'll heal and be able to move on without this dragging her down badly. I'm going to really miss her

[the-hype-on-tv]

imma list all my superman//clark kent headcanons just bcuz (feel free to add yours)

he loves oriental food, especially Japanese. he probably has bentos with gohan and ramen for lunch on most days.

his eyes are so friggin blue and bright (and i mean, like, this shade of blue but shiny), that's what his glass's lenses are hiding mostly

we love a clark that gets flustered easily. superman might hide it better, but he blushes easily when people compliment him and would probably be deadpan when someone flirted with him for the first time

he probably mumbles a lot as clark kent as to "hide" the superman voice, possibly makes it sound less deep and assertive, which also connects to the next point

it's straight up canon that superman has "super-ventriloquism" and can project his voice very far and even change it. some people say that's just one of his powers, but I'd like to think clark just was a theatre kid at some point and kept what he learned

I don't think he has lungs. this is random and i have no proof of it, but he doesn't breathe like we do most of the time, so it's clear he stores air somehow else.

i can imagine young clark feeling conflicted in his puberty after the knowledge he can see through people's clothes. like, one day he's staring at his crush and imagines how it'd be if things got steamy between them and then he accidentally sees through and starts panicking, covering his eyes in shame and running away.

he has merch of all the justice league members aka his friends, but got his own because when others visited his apartment he would have to explain why he didn't like superman

the first time he saw someone with a broken bone or some internal injury he probably didn't understand there was something wrong cuz it's not like he goes around scanning healthy people. so he either learned with time and experience how an injured inside looks like, or he had to take nursing lessons. possibly from alfred.

he can be a cat person. i know he usually has dogs, like krypto, but the fact he takes the time to rescue kitties stuck in trees when he could be idk preventing an upcoming accident or smth shows he really cares about animals too. actually, he did try to become a veterinarian before journalism, but dropped out when he realized he'd have to see the poor things suffer on a daily basis

he never went to the beach. as a vacation, not as superman. and when he finally did, he didn't really find it as fun as he thought it would

he probably doesn't own any sneakers. by choice, really. i have no idea what he would wear on a sporty outing, but I'm guessing he'd either go with his social shoes or farm boots. literally no in-between.

he probably doesn't use earphones//headphones when listening to something on his cellphone or laptop. I'm sorry, clark can be a boomer too

probably know how to crochet or knit for absolutely no reason. he was bored one day and learned it

actually, complementing the last one, i think he has a lot of useless hobbies. his kryptonian brain probably processes everything faster, including boredom, so if he's chilling in his room at the middle of the night and has nothing to do, he'll superspeed a sweater into existence and idk do some origami birds and organize his rock collection, because he probably has a rock collection

anger issues. fanon usually forgets about this, but clark has a LOT of anger management issues. he punches his parents' house, a random tree, his sink, his eyes go red and while he can hold it for a while, he needs to do something to calm him down. probably one of his 10040297 hobies

i do not care WHAT proof you have, neither clark NOR superman cuss. not even if he's repeating a quote or singing a song. he'll just say "gosh darn it" or "great scott" (i still don't know who scott is) or "heck" or "flipping". if his anger is too big, he'll just get physical instead, but he'd never cuss lmao

he doesn't have a driver's license. he could get one if he tried, but he's pretty sure he'd either wreck his car with his hands or join in some traffic fight or get deaf with all the horns

I'm still not over the theatre kid thing-- he'd probably be in chess club as well and possibly, possibly play d&d with his friends. he probably was obsessed about it when it first came out.

he probably doesn't know many songs by heart, except for the ones his friends like.

you cannot convince me this man doesn't know how to play an acoustic guitar. I'm not being stereotypical with the country boy theme, i swear, but clark just looks like he's one of those friends who would take a guitar to a party or camp with his friends and hit some notes. again, from songs they know

[circulars-reasoning]

If I recall correctly, you said you had created alters, right? If so, I was wondering how it happened and how they're doing right now. I'm trying to do a bit of research on it to help out a specific alter in our system, but to no avail. We're trying to do this as safely as possible.

Right now, they’re doing well, but when they first formed, it was horrific for them and us. Trauma was… not great! I think it might be time to expand on their stories actually. Too many people in syscourse assume they know things about my alters, and the last time I opened up about them, folks came into my inbox to tell me I was wrong about my experiences.

Tw for suicidal ideation, harassment, depression, and alter death.

Debra:

She was our first created alter, and the one we actually consciously purposefully created. In terms of us having a created alter, she’s probably the one who counts — LED’s experience is closer to a regular traumatic split, but I’ll get to him later.

Context for this time of my life: We were in high school. We had never heard of DID, we were being actively abused on two fronts (parental abuse and COCSA), and the only people who we felt understood us were folks much older than me online who I talked to on a daily basis. I thought my alters were just imaginary friends to represent my emotions. The voices I heard were just my emotions and feelings, very loudly, and I was imagining those emotions as people — like Inside Out!! And this was normal, my peer abuser told me. Yay! (Oof.)

Wade was our main fronter at home. He held onto a lot of our depression and dealt with the brunt of the current abuse from our parents. He was also dealing with gender issues and just generally was struggling. We started getting more and more suicidal and depressed, and our systems only way of handling that emotion was repression (via Numb’s emotional blocking or Sierra’s toxic optimism).

Finally, one night, Wade got the closest he ever got to self harm. It was nothing, really - the mark of it was gone within an hour - but it panicked him, and he reached out to our friend at the time.

This friend comforted him and told him that he needed to manage his depression somehow. We knew we couldn’t get therapy, so he suggested something he’d heard of before, about parts therapy. AKA, IFS. “Your depression is a part of you. What you need to do is talk to it. Imagine a person; someone who is all of those depressing thoughts. And talk to that person; why do they treat you that way?”

Those aren’t direct quotes. In all actuality, all of this is so blurry. I was so fucked up and stressed, it’s not hard to know I split. But the thing is, Debra’s split was entirely different than any other split I’ve had. All of my other alters, it was… one second they’re not there, the next they are.

Debra didn’t do that. When Wade imagined someone to talk to, it wasn’t in our innerworld. It was in a different space, where we imagine our thoughts happening. Deb was entirely imaginary, and she seemed to say things as I thought them. Each negative thought I had was suddenly her saying them. (Sometimes, it seemed almost as if she would say the thought before I had it.) For every night for a week, they talked — though, it was more Debra talking and us listening and feeling worse about ourselves.

That first conversation, I remember Wade feeling better — empty, but not suicidal. After imagining Debra for that first time, Wade only felt non-suicidal if she was talking to him. Sometimes that didn’t even help, because really, she was just imagined — we were planning her thoughts. Until, suddenly, we weren’t anymore.

Side note: Deb is the first marked hallucination we have had. We were walking home from the bus stop, which was always inherently dissociative for us, and we looked over at our house. Out of the corner of our eyes, we saw Deb, floating around the cars parked on the road. We panicked at that, but a second later, she was gone. We believed magic was real for a solid day after that, and that our imagination was coming to real life.

After that week, Debra was autonomous. She started to slip out of the void and into our innerworld. She started to harass Wade in a living hell 24/7, instead of from 11pm to whenever Wade finally passed out at night. And she hated a lot of us. She expressed that we should all kill ourselves so she could take over, because she was so much better than the rest of us. It was around this time that Wade made his trauma room in our innerworld and ceased fronting as often.

It only ended when Numb, fed up with her and panicked from even him feeling the suicidal ideation, killed her. Protector killing the persecutor, how classic. He crushed her to death innerworld.

Deb didn’t make a reappearance until college, when she emerged from dormancy. But in the meantime, there are two blank years of my life after we killed Debra. I have so few memories from those years, I could count them on my hands. Clearly, killing her destabilized us, but if we hadn’t, I have no doubt I wouldn’t be alive today. She was succeeding in her goals, and it sounded logical to us at the time. We’ve worked hard to make peace with what happened.

LED:

College. We’re now self dx’d as having DID. We’re no longer around our peer abuser, and in fact had ‘broken up’ with her after she ‘crossed a line’. I was now an hour away from my parents (though I had to call them each night and drive home each weekend). I was living with my then-roommate-now-fiancé and I was best friends with the only person in my life who knew I had DID, who lived in a different dorm. We were convinced Rice was a host by people online, and we were in pro-endo spaces (though had yet to strongly participate in syscoruse spaces).

Deb came back. At the time, I was in a nice Singlet Era Lite(tm) — aka, Rice fronted almost constantly, until she would collapse and meltdown and then we would rapid switch for the next few days, only for Rice to power back to front. It was unstable, unhealthy, and an incredible burden on Rice (one she is still recovering from to this day). Until, one night (at 3am), Rice was on the verge of a mental collapse again. She was down on herself, convinced she was a failure.

And then Deb was there, telling her she was, telling her how worthless she was, and altogether making everything harder.

That summer, Deb would take to harassing Rice, in particular. We had a flawed idea from the systems we spoke to that Rice was the “original core identity” and that the goal of DID healing was to integrate* those identities into one. She wanted Rice to feel out of control, so Deb could take over as host. If she could just become the original identity somehow, then we could fuse and just be perfect like her.

The best way she could think to make Rice no longer be in control? Make Rice split. Force a split, make Rice create someone, just like how we’d made Deb, and make Rice realize she was pathetic.

So, the nightly torture began. No sleep until 3am most nights, passive influence of suicidal ideation, near constant whispering about our mistakes. And, long story short, one night it worked.

Rice finally had enough, and completely went dormant in her room. And, in her place, was LED. Not visualized like Deb had been, but planned by Deb, and made specifically to counteract her. Debra is a being of darkness and shadow; LED’s name is literally Light Emitting Diode. Debra is an ageless demon; LED is a 10 year old ray of sunshine.

Only… Debra came for him, said hello, and. Well. LED took one look at her, screamed so loud I thought it happened in real life, and shattered. Broke apart into a million pieces and went immediately dormant.

This shocked Debra enough to actually break through to her at least. Damage was done, though. A new split and two dormancies in one night. Deb retreated from the front and left everyone else to clean up the mess while she watched. Rice remained dormant for a few months, and would only come back for, at most, a few hours at a time before having a breakdown and leaving for, usually, around a half a year. LED didn’t come back for almost a year after that. Debra had a “come to Jesus” talk with our friend who was in the know, and she started helping out some.

Now:

They get along really well! It’s been years and years since those incidents. Deb feels guilt for what she did back then, but everyone’s forgiven her — LED being one of the first. He actually apologized to her for being scared. Goddamn sweet guy.

Both of them have adapted to the system, but needed time to adjust. LED adjusted in dormancy, whereas Debra had to adjust after she returned from dormancy. It was… incredibly unstable for us after Debra’s creation. Our therapist cites that as part of the risk of IFS with DID systems, and how it can lead to increase dissociative barriers. It did for us.

We call both created, because there was purpose behind their splits. Debra was imagined consciously, purposefully, to hold trauma. LED was purposefully made (even if unplanned, visually and personality wise) to make Rice feel worthless (and instead made her feel stronger… after a year or so). We also distinctly call both of them created traumagenic alters.

Whew. That was a long one. I’m gonna to rest after that…

[qahwa-chai-coffee]

i never quote reblog lmfao but this is so specific to me BUT then i also know a thing or 2 i do to make living in inferno easy so:D

romanticize ur life, and start to focus on every tiny pretty aesthetic comfy lovely thing in ur life. no they won't fix your life but the idea is to ground urself and rewire ur brain to look for what pleases u personally even if for just a few fleeting moments!!

accept and learn to feel the enormity and grotesqueness of a) ur feelings and b) ur reality/ life circumstances (atm).some of ours lives really are very shitty and feel cursed beyond redemption idk so instead of a Rollercoaster of false hope and band aid solutions - just accept ur feeling are huge and scary and painful and life feels like its out to get u and the best u can do is learn to feel, find catharsis for and then let ur feelings pass.

curate a little routine for urself IMM BEGGINNNGGGGG YOUUYIII. idc what u can afford and can get urself to do (im poor, unemployed, in chronic pain, neurodivergent and stuck w my abusive parents w access to not even internet so take my word if i can do it u can most def do it :D). idc if u fall off often idc the stuff u can get is not Pinterest level photogenic idc u don't feel like it i literally don't care ; put a little routine for urself before bed eg ill have tea / coffee and listen to this music for this long and ill read 2 articles online blah blah and ofc routines to help u take care of ur hygiene and reach ur goals (whatever both of these things are doable for u, ur good and im proud of u!). i promise u guys delayed gratification and setting routines for urself will make u feel better vs mindlessly indulging in pleasure, it's not hustle culture u need to distance urself from pleasure and indulgences and comfort for a bit to be truly able to feel it

reach out to ur friends talk with strangers (online /offline) u don't need to commit to anyone pls just talk to ppl i promise is self isolation is really bad for u omg

try to eat whole food as often as u can,, it always makes me almost instantly feel good

i dont want to fall in to an argument about God and religion and spirituality but yeah whatever avenue of spirituality works for u do smth it'll make u feel better

cuddle a lot

speak ur mind and say ily and thank you and sorry be embarrassing and corny but ull feel good PROMISS

don't think of the future lmfao, what will happen will happen when it does and sometimes the next step that ur supposed to take will show up in ur life unexpected and you'll know what to do to get the life u want. live moment by moment and pls, especially for ppl like us, do not think of the future in binary terms and don't hinge ur self worth and overall quality of life at what u think (u) should (do to make) a good future. what will happen will happen and whatever does - best case scenario or worst case - it'll rely on ur resilience and how good and healthy u feel on the inside aka every tiny choice u make and things u feel on a daily basis. we will be okay. we are okay.

i have more so if yall want more lmk cuz i gotta go pee now bye

tips for living a sad lonely unhealthy life but being really chill about it

[definitelyblond]

I wanna start posting some movie and tv show lists as recommendations. So, let’s start off with some movies.

Viv’s Top Ten 80’s Movies

1. The Goonies - 1985

This one is super nostalgic for me, I watched it a lot as a kid and had that Cyndi Lauper song memorized. Mouth is honestly like my favourite character and spirit animal of sass. If you’re looking for a quintessential 80’s classic family movie this one’s you best bet. This is the stuff that Stanger Things and It try to be.

2. The Princess Bride - 1987

Again, very nostalgic for me. This is one of my mom’s favourites so we watched it quite a bit. It’s hilarious and witty kind of parody-like and deserves a watch. So many great lines to quote in your day to day life.

3. Beetlejuice - 1988

Of course, I gotta include Tim Burton. One of my all time favourite movies although I was truly terrified of it as a child. It’s a trip alright but so good. You’ll go to the netherworld of snakes and sand, a tiny model of a neighbourhood and a waiting-room for the dead in hell.

4. The Terminator - 1984

I quote this movie on a daily basis and I don’t regret it. Prepare for a whole lot of cheese but a side of awesomeness. Personally, I like the sequel a bit better but the original was pretty bomb as well. Talk about the consequences of s*x am I right?!

5. The Lost Boys - 1987

So, this one is probably not as known as the others but I was obsessed with this movie in my teens. It’s dark and witty and full of vampires. What’s not to like?

6. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

I think I must’ve seen this movie a gazillion times. Every time I went to my step-grandparents’ house I would watch this Indiana Jones movie. The magic-like plot and the fun characters really spoke to me as a kid. And I will never forget the snakes and monkey brain scene.

7. The Breakfast Club - 1985

Now, I usually don’t like these types of movies from the 80’s (teen drama and whatnot) but for some reason I’ve always really liked this one. Maybe I just have a crush on Judd Nelson idk. But if you haven’t seen this movie I suggest you go watch it right now, it’s a classic.

8. Blade Runner - 1982

A futuristic world where robots hide in plain sight, sign me up. I feel like whenever I watch this movie I get a little more confused each time but that just makes me want to watch it again. Also, shout out to Harrison Ford whose in like half of these recommendations.

9. Labyrinth - 1986

Praise the Goblin King (aka David Bowie). The Jim Henson puppetry and crazy events paint this as a perfect 80’s classic tale of whimsy and wonder.

10. Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back - 1980

Ah, yes of course Star Wars is on here. An absolute must have in my household. I remember losing my tooth on popcorn to this movie, sitting on my grandparents’ couch. Super nostalgic and super entertaining. I think the most in terms of recognizable scenes is in this one.

Thanks! I hope to do more and maybe go into more detail with the synopsis or my anecdotal parts.

[angel-reyes]

I can’t believe that this vast feeling of hopelessness is back again. I also can’t believe just how superficial it can be sometimes 

I’ve spent the past hour or so looking up how to make covers on youtube, especially with the karaoke files from other youtube creators and that got me thinking about how I know I’m not any good to be like a star or be famous or anything like that, but I’m just going to do it because I love music in general and want to either make it or just surround myself with it on a daily basis. I want to be able to sing and I’m scared that if I won’t do it soon, I never will and I’ll look back with regret because I was too ‘shy’ to just post something that I do every single day aka sing. 

Then it made me start thinking about how my degree in electronics engineering could be put to use if I work in a record label, but then I remember that being a sound or audio engineer is different than being a music producer, which is what I feel like I actually want to do. I don’t know if I’m qualified for it, really, but I never thought I was qualified for the job I currently have (test engineer/consultant) yet here I am in this company for the past thirteen and a half months. Everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?

I’ve been looking at jobs that are available in record labels like being a publicist, stage manager, concert promoter, etc. and I think the only thing that I’d actually want to be, other than a music producer, is a music journalist, though even that is debatable because while I like to think I’m a pretty good person when it comes to writing fiction and even though I like to speak my mind about a lot of things, I don’t know if I’m qualified for that either. 

I’m feeling pretty hopeless because I feel like my mind is so America-centered that I feel like if I don’t get a job there, my job won’t be as good which is so stupid because.... well, America isn’t that great, and I don’t want to live there but I know that Los Angeles is the place to be for what I want. Sometimes, you just can’t help but think how good life would be if you were just born rich and privileged, because even though you might not know your purpose in life yet, you know you have the means to be able to go after it when you do figure it out.

Sometimes, I just listen to some people’s music and to quote the Hamilton musical, I want to be in the room where it happens. I don’t really think I have the talent to write songs and make it big, but damn it, I wish I was one of those people God blessed with that talent. I know they all didn’t arrive to where they were without a ton of hard work, but it’s hard not to wish you had their life, or at the very least, their talent.

I’m also just feeling hopeless and dejected because I know that while I’m so grateful for this job, especially during this pandemic, I don’t think this is the job that I want to be in for the rest of my life. I want to do something in music but I just don’t know what and I fear that I’m running out of time to make that change for myself (which is silly because I’m only 23, turning 24 next month). Making gifs on tumblr dot com and working crazy hours and making reports while facing my laptop the entire day just can’t be all my life is.

I don’t know if I want something more or something better or something just different. I don’t know if this could be thought of as some sort of ‘mid’-life crisis, especially when if I really think about it, there really isn’t anything wrong with my life. I don’t know if this discontentment will follow me around for the rest of my life but writing all this down just makes me think about how some people somehow seem to become famous off of blog posts and I don’t even know how that happens. Maybe I want that for myself too. If I’m going to have a breakdown, might as well earn some money off of it, right? 

It’s crazy because it’s not just that I don’t know what I want, I feel like I’m not good enough for anything.

This is just a lot to process and a person dear to me once told me that I should write things down when I feel like my thoughts are just about ready to devour me and also because I don’t really know where else to talk about it, so here it is. 

[rexelectus]

● – || @moralhymn​ sent:  1. What makes you the most emotional about your muse? / 7. If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow? / 17. Why do you think you connect to your muse?

munday questions || accepting 

Thank you for sending these in you precious peach! You are amazing and should have lots of great kisses and huggles! 

● – || What makes you emotional about your muse? What doesn’t make me emotional about Noctis Lucis Caelum? That should really be  the question. There are so many things that make me emotional about him. Since I got this question twice I’m going to talk about different things for each question. In this essay, I will discuss his relationship with Lunafreya. I refuse to write her out of Noctis’ story for the sake of having ships. I won’t do it. I’m going to spill some tea but I, personally, won’t follow a Noctis back {not from Iris or Cindy or any blog I run} if I see that Lunafreya is cast aside or rejected from someone’s portrayal for the sake of ships. While I understand how someone portrays their muse is their business, rejecting a major female character who is the basis of a muse’s personality and lifestyle for the sake of ships makes me annoyed. I’m really passionate about this, if you can’t tell. 

Lunafreya’s existence is a huge portion of Noctis’ story. It is not only a huge point in his story but also in his character development itself. From the minute he was born he was told that he is going to be married to her. They grew up as close friends. Even when they were separated, they stayed in contact. Long before Prompto she was his closest friend. Yes, they were/are to be married but they were friends first. I firmly believe that he loves her. A lot. Whether it is romantically or just as a close friend for me, personally, depends on the Lunafreya I am writing with. I instantly default to that he loves her as a close friend unless we’ve talked about it. As they grow up they write to each other practically daily. They share that connection, whether near or far. She is a huge part of his life. He does so many things throughout his life, throughout his journey, just with her in mind. He’s dedicated to her, not just because of his duty to the throne, but because they are friends/lovers.  He’s withdrawn as a person. He confides in her and she in him. While he was injured for a good portion of his life, Noctis only had Lunafreya. She got him to blossom and open up little by little. 

While Ignis and Gladio taught him how to follow his duty, Lunafreya taught him how to follow his heart. She taught him how to feel and listen to what his heart was wanting. Also, can we talk about how he looks at her? Noctis, whether as a child or as a young adult, looks at Lunafreya with so much love. He’s in awe of her. Of her strength. Of her passion. Of her beauty. Of her wisdom. Of her ability to lead. When he sees her speak in Altissia, you can tell that, in that moment, he recognizes that he wouldn’t have any one else by his side. That their destiny to be together is the right one. He realizes, while looking up at her through the crowd of thousands, just how lucky he is to call himself her King and how excited he is to marry her. 

Now, we get to get sad. He beats himself up when she dies. Yes, he’s partially still torn up about his father dying, but Noctis genuinely is devastated when she dies. “All I wanted was to save you.” He knew she was sick. All he wanted was to be there by her side and help her and instead he watched as Ardyn stabbed her and took her away from him. “I’m sorry .... I couldn’t be there for you.” Need I say more sad quotes? He loved her so much, whether as friends or lovers, that losing her after his father broke him. He didn’t get to say goodbye or to tell her how he felt about her. He didn’t get any of those things. He wasn’t able to save her or be there for her because someone took away that choice for him. Now, if we pretend video game canon doesn’t exist and the book does, Noctis does eventually get married to Lunafreya. They have children. They get the happily ever after that I firmly believe they both deserved. It’s really sweet and they have a very happy marriage.  While yes, they were an arranged marriage, he did love her. It’s not a loveless marriage. It’s one of faith, warmth, love, and strength. 

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 

● – || If you could ‘borrow’ one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow? If I could ‘borrow’ one aspect of Noctis’ and apply it to myself. . . Honestly, his bravery and his adversity. No matter what comes his way he always faces it with everything he has. While he may be small in stature, he uses what his father, Ignis, and Gladio have raised him on in order to “walk tall” every day. He carries himself well and faces every challenge he is thrown with his entire being. He doesn’t give up easily and doesn’t let people walk all over him. As a whole, his ability to “walk talk” paired with his bravery and adversity is what I want to apply to my life. Just like Noctis does, I want to be able to keep moving forward and walking tall regardless of what life throws at me. 

● – || Why do you think you connect to your muse? I think I connect to Noctis for a laundry list of reasons. I think I connect to him because I love his story. I love the plot of his game and of his life. It’s really well developed and a beautiful story. Honestly? I love his personality. I love how he definitely walks in his father’s footsteps. He’s noble, courageous, brave, withdrawn, playful, wise, caring, passionate, strong. Frankly, I love that he is his father’s son. 

I connect most to Noctis with his desire to being understood. While I’m not as withdrawn as he is, I’m still pretty drawn into myself. For both Noctis and I it is hard to ask for help because we are always told to stand on our own two feet. All Noctis wants is for someone to listen to him. He wants someone who hears him out, who he can talk to about anything no matter what it is. Who makes him laugh -- genuinely laugh and smile for real -- who he can also go to about the serious things without the walls of it being because he’s the Prince. He wants someone who understands him genuinely as a person. 

While he can talk to the Luna, Ignis, and Gladio about those things, the person he can really fall on is Prompto. Yes, I know he can rely on Ignis and Gladio. Yes, I know he can really fall on Gladio {I refer to the ‘when you stop focusing I focus for you’ quote} because he’s his Shield. However, you can’t deny that his bond with Prompto is special just like Gladio’s with Iggy’s is special. No, I’m not talking about shipping. I’m just talking about friendship. All of the guys are close like brothers, don’t get me wrong. They’re all close and bonded until the end of time. Just in different ways. Prompto, though he’s not Ignis or Gladio’s number one choice for a friend for Noctis, is Noctis’ number one choice for himself. While Gladio and Ignis understand Noctis to a degree , Prompto understands Noctis through and through. He’s his best friend. Prompto makes Noctis laugh, is there for him when Noctis just needs a friend. Movie nights? Video games? Pizza by the lake? Prompto’s there. Gladio and Ignis understand Noctis from the point of him being their King. While all three of the guys are close to Noctis, Noctis knows that he can rely on Prompto who understands him as a person. 

Sappy Taea time. I have my own Prompto. Some of you know her, some of you don’t, but her name is Rissa aka @strictomiles​. While yes, she plays my main Shield/ GladNoct ship partner, she is also the Sora to my Riku {aka she’s @lightheartedwarrior and I’m @darkheartedprince}. In case you didn’t know, just like in the KH fandom, Rissa and I have matching URLS here too. Stricto Miles in Latin means ‘Drawn Knight’ and Avulsus Princeps in Latin means ‘Withdrawn Prince’. To quote my first promo on this blog, which was a dual promo for the two of us, “By the shadows you vowed to protect me, and by the light I vowed to lead you.” Just like Prompto with Noctis, all day any day if you ask who I’m talking to there’s a good chance the answer will be Rissa. Rissa and I met in a different fandom from Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy and instantly clicked. We can talk about anything and everything no matter what it is or when it is. Just like Prompto with Noctis we just get each other. We had no awkward friendship phase we instantly connected and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  And, just like Noctis with Prompto, Rissa is my best friend and I love her to the ends of the universe and back.

So, that’s why I connect to Noctis.

[nat-20s]

Death and the Queen headcanon: for a few weeks after they leave Gorotania (or however the heck you spell it) Ten is very wary when Donna speaks to men because he’s shit scared she’s gonna end up leaving him again like she did with Rudolph. Yeah, I’m down for clingy/protective Ten basically 💁🏻

hey so you did NOT mean this as a fic prompt but my brain took it as a fic prompt anyway so please enjoy this almost 1.7k words of nonsense

The Doctor came up from behind so that he could wrap his arms

around her shoulders and rest his chin on her head, which should’ve

been nice and comforting and warm. However,

Donna could hear the pernicious grin on his face as he said, “Donna!

There you are, we were just leaving, weren’t

we?”

This had been the third goddamn

time this week he’s pulled

this sort of stunt, and, would you look at that, it’s once again

just as Donna was having a nice flirt after the danger had passed.

Never would’ve worked out,

not the least because Donna just isn’t a fan of that many eyes on a

face, but the interruption was far from welcome nonetheless. Two

instincts war inside her, but she ultimately decides that it will be

more productive to give The Doctor a right and proper talking to in

the TARDIS over just yelling right here and now. Matching the

(assumed) sharpness of The Doctor’s grin, Donna schools her gritted

teeth into an imitation of a smile and says, “That we were! Sorry

to take off so quickly, but you know how it is. Things to do, places

to see, running to tolerate, all that!”

Four of the alien’s eyelids

flutter rapidly with a loud clicking noise that, thank you TARDIS,

automatically translates to, “Ah, my apologies, Lady Noble. If I

had known you were already

partnered, I would not have made overtures. I hope I have not to

greatly offended your mate.”

Before Donna could open her mouth

to give a perfunctory “Definitely unpartnered,

not my mate,” The Doctor

comes forward and grabs her hand to pull her away, cheerfully telling

her conversational partner, “Oh, no offense taken old chap! We

really must be off

right now though, give us a holler next

time we’re in the solar system!”

Like that, he has her running again

despite the fact that they are not, at the moment, in any actual rush

that she’s aware of. Not able to really talk while being half

dragged back home, she settles for an incredulous side eye that The

Doctor willfully (?) ignores.

Luckily, they weren’t parked

too far away, so it’s only

a matter of minutes before they’re back in the TARDIS. The Doctor

is already talking a mile a minute and asking a million questions he

clearly doesn’t expect an answer to and Donna has had enough.

“What. The Hell. Was that.”

The Doctor freezes, one hand grasping a

mallet mid strike and the other hovering over a keyboard. In a

display of false innocence, he asks, “What the hell was what?”

Strolling over to take the mallet from

his hand before he hurts himself or, who knows, opens a sort of space

vortex or something to get out of the ensuing conversation, Donna not

at all calmly tells him, “That whole horse and pony show back

there! I mean, Christ, you can be clingy and melodramatic at

the best of times-

“Oi-”

“but this is a whole ‘nother level!

This is jealously whenever I so much as look at another

person, and I you don’t cut that out I swear to god I’ll-”

“Leave? For good?”

There’s a bitter flash of a smirk on

his face and it throws Donna completely off her rhythm. Not enough

for her to completely stop yelling, mind you, but enough that some

gears are starting to grind in the back of her mind. “What? No. I

was gonna say lock you in the TARDIS for a week so you can

think about your actions and I can actually spend time with people

that are not you without some hovering but I’m starting to think

that’d only exaggerate the problem.”

The Doctor sets about busying himself

with…something on the console and pointedly does not make eye

contact when he replies with, “Mmmm.”

For about a minute or two, Donna

passively watches him work, taking the time to connect the dots

before hollering, ��Goritania!”

Still puttering about with who knows

what, The Doctor replies, “Huh?”

“You’ve been acting like this for

about a month, aka when we left Goritania. Considering that whole

speech you gave about oh how you’re so lonely and woe is me

everyone leaves, which, by the way, if you had let me get a word in

edgewise you would’ve known I wasn’t going anywhere, not

permanently, I’m guessing it’s not a coincidence that you’ve

been acting like anyone I make eye contact with is going to, I dunno,

whisk me away to some other planet for an interalien soul binding or

some other nonsense.”

The Doctor thwacks the side of the

monitor with a little more force than necessary and his breathing

gets heavier as he spits out, “Well it’s true isn’t it?

Everyone does leave, and just because “Rudolph,” he says

the name with a sneer, “wasn’t your person doesn’t mean that

you’re not going to find your person and run off and get married

and live a happy life just like you wanted.”

Funnily enough, just as the Doctor

starts to get riled up, Donna feels all the fight leave her. “I’ll

admit, there was a time where I did really want that big

fairytale wedding followed by, hopefully, a big fairytale marriage.

Somewhere along the line I had learned that’s what was synonymous

with a happy life. But then I got a glimpse of the universe and that

all fell to the wayside. For Christ’s sake, I think I had more fun

running around like a madwoman as my wedding reception got destroyed

that I did with the wedding itself. I mean, sure, I still think

having “my person” makes things better for me, but luckily, I’ve

already found them.”

The Doctor finally stops messing around

with instruments so he can actually look at her. His jaw works

back and forth a few times, and then he schools his face into

something that utterly fails to not be crestfallen. “Oh? Do I..do I

know them?”

“Oh no, you’ve never met them,”

She lightly flicks his forehead, “It’s you, stupid. For a

supposed genius you’re rather thick sometimes. How ave you survived

this long?”

“Oh! Also, I haven’t. I’ve

already died nine times Donna, keep up. Also also, supposed genius?

Who was saying that? I should send them a card.”

“Absolutely not. Your ego would

explode and we can’t have that. It’d kill you a tenth time.”

“Mmm. Suppose it’s for the best,

I’m out of stamps anyway.”

There’s a beat of silence before he

blasts her with the full force of the universe’s dopiest grin.

Voice filled with inexorable pleasure, he asks, “I’m really your

person?”

She could call him out on asking

questions he full well knows the answer to, but instead she gives a

one shouldered shrug and says, “Well, yeah. You’re my best

friend. Who the fuck else was it gonna be? I guess it’s a bit

odd that you’re a nine hundred and seven year old alien,

wouldn’t have called that in my 7th grade journal, but

I’ve accepted much weirder things at this point.”

The Doctor’s grin settles softly into

a smile, quietly replying, “I do love nothing in the world so well

as you- is not that strange?”

Donna gently elbows him in the side and

admonishes, “What did I say about Shakespeare quotes during serious

conversations?”

“Sorry,” The Doctor says, not sorry

at all. “If it helps, my best friend is an alien that’s not even

half a century old. So young. Pretty freaky if you ask me.”

“Oh for real? Do I know them?”

The Doctor gives Donna an unimpressed

look, but she luckily has had an immunity to all of his Looks from

day one. She bumps his shoulder with her own and says, “Seriously

though, you think I could ever trade seeing galaxies and

bringing hope to people and stopping the forces of evil for what? A

mortgage and office politics? My baseline state traveling with you is

joy. Even the miserable, horrible times aren’t so

miserable and horrible because, on a bone deep level, I’m

deliriously happy. That’s never been true before, and it means the

only way that you’re getting me out of this little blue box is in a

casket. So. You know. Something to think about when you get it in

that messy little head of yours that I’m gonna tell you to sod off

and run away with the nearest 6’ 3” vaguely humanoid person able

to lift me.”

“In my defense you did, in fact, once

tell me to sod off and ran away with a 6’ 3” Tree of Cheem.

Lovely woman by the way, you should’ve kept in contact.”

“It was for a day oh my god

chill out. It’s not our fault that we had better tastes in

amusement parks than you.”

“I see your point. I will…chill

out. And I’m sorry for how, uh,-”

“cloying?”

“overly protective I’ve been

these past weeks. Sometimes I just get so..”

Donna leans against him, pleased when

he leans back, and tells him, “Hey, I get it, I really do. I’m

plenty scared of losing you. Christ, I’ve had plenty of nights

working myself into sleeplessness convinced you’re gonna

ditch me for somebody who’s ‘better’ than me, whatever the hell

that means.”

“I wouldn’t ditch you!”

“I know that. Logically. Just

like you know that I’m not gonna trade you in for a white picket

fence and 2.4 children. Hence why, despite the occasional irrational

actions, I think we should move forward so we can be afraid of real

threats, like the many, many things that try to kill us on a near

daily basis. Speaking of, what thing trying to kill us are we gonna

go barreling into now?”

“I was thinking the mesmerizing

mountains of Yountor.  They sing so beautifully as to be rumored to be

populated by angels.”

Donna raises an eyebrow at him. He

continues, “or maybe sirens.”

Sarcastic tone at odds with the grin on

her face, Donna says, “Ah. No way that could backfire. Let’s do

it.”

[annoyingyaoishipper]

Me answering anon

This is a bit long, so I’m adding the keep reading feature for the comfort of those who encounter this:)

What “racism” has Tyler Posey ever faced in his Teen Wolf career exactly????

As far as I know, none. I googled a bit (not that much) and all I could find was a post here about how anti stereks keep saying the fandom should treat Scott differently because he’s a person of color by @uniwolfwerecorn but there are so many reblogs and personal experiences that I don't really know what to make of it (it was made 6 years ago). From what I read, being a PoC has a different meaning in the USA, but because I don't know the protocol; if there’s any; I won’t say much about it.

Apart from that, there was an article for when Posey joked about being gay and “came out” but then apologized after receiving a negative reaction from fans and from the LGBT+ Community (*gasps in sarcastic shock*).

Everyone praising/gushing all over True Star & Breakout Star of the show Dylan O’Brien’s natural acting talent instead of paying attention to him?

True Star & Breakout Star of the show Dylan O’Brien eclipsing his whiny, talentless ass without even trying?

With the way the McCall squat loves Scott, I'm sure ANY new actor with a natural talent would have received hate from them.

Fans, viewers, actors, critics, directors and producers preferring unique, compelling fictional characters to his character Scott McCall?

Tbh I haven’t seen more of his work so I have nothing to compare to. I don’t know how good I would rate his acting skills, but with the way he gave life to Scott McCall (even if he didn’t have any input in writing), I have absolutely zero questions/arguments against about why no one chooses his character.

Con goers spending money to interact with Tyler Hoechlin instead of buying his clothing line?

I’ll give anything to just even get a glance of Tyler Hoechlin. The funny part (at least to me) is that I didn’t even know Posey had a clothing line! I looked it up and I don't think it’s that great (but then again, personal opinion/preferences).

People shipping and creating content for Sterek, Steter, Pydia, Berica, or Thiam instead of Sciles?

The only thing I would read would be a brotp. In my short time reading Teen Wolf in AO3 (like two years?) I’ve only encountered like three fics with Sciles as a pairing. That was the worst. Not even the summary could convince me not to feel the need to throw out (not even a little bit). And I don't say this because I prefer sterek, I say this because the ideas of those fics included everything I avoid in fics. (I repeat this AGAIN cause it’s important: everyone has personal preferences. Other people liked those and that is completely fine).

That’s not racism though. Not even remotely.

AGREE 100%.

Not to mention that Tyler Posey himself has openly admitted that his race never hindered him in any way, because: “People don’t know what race I am. They never know if I’m Hawaiian or Italian or Mexican or Spanish or White. I could play Jewish, I could play anything!”

[https://www.huffpost.com/entry/teen-wolf-star-tyler-posey_n_1625161]

Read the article. I don’t know if the editor or whatever rephrased some of his answers or if those are direct quotes, but I (personally) got some weird vibes with his responses. Example:

“But there’s pretty intense training to get the physique to 12-year-old girls’ standards, I guess. {Laughs}.” 

Now, I don’t know what Americans (or how I say it in Spanish, estadounidenses) are used to, but THAT comment is SO NOT OKAY. YOU DON’T train to reach 12-year-old-girls’ standards, YOU SHOULD teach young girls what a realistic, healthy body of a TEENAGER should look. 

If anyone else is reading this, then go read the article and form your own opinions. This one is mine (aka weird vibes).

So yeah: Scott/Posey Stans really need to stop trying to compare the racism and discrimination John Boyega faced – and still faces – on a daily basis with Tyler Posey’s jealous fits and temper tantrums

I don’t know who John Boyega is, but if google tells me he’s a British-Nigerian actor and producer then I can say there is NO WAY Posey has it worse. To me, it’s enough to know that having ANY African roots will ensure a life full of criticism and racism. Not because its the norm nor because its what should be done. It’s because EVERY RACIST DOES IT. 

Thank you for reading! Anon, thank you for your submission (I learned a lot)!

To clarify (just in case): anon’s submission is in normal font, my answers/rants/opinions are in bold font. 

I have no intention of being rude or to offend anyone, and if I (somehow) did, I apologize.

English is my second language, so any mistakes are mine.

[flightsrsk]

hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.

[jimkirkachu]

A little checkered bird (aka @plaidshirtjimkirk ^__^) AND some sort of... astronaut... or... something... (lol @somekindaspacecadet ^__^) tagged me about eight lifetimes ago in a game that, if I understand correctly, @thesadchicken came up with... so in my endeavor to catch up on all the stuff I’ve been tagged to do and neglected for months, here we go! (As usual, I got carried away, so I’ll put the rest behind a cut :))

Questions:

✨ Your top 5 favorite Star Trek characters:  James Kirk, Spock, Leonard McCoy, Montgomery Scott, Lt. Uhura (I am deliberately choosing to interpret this question as exclusively meaning my top 5 favorite TOS characters, because GOOD LORD how in the world am I supposed to narrow down all of my favorite Trek characters from all the series to only 5???? LOL)

✨ Which Starfleet division would you be in? Command officer is my wet dream, but if we’re talking realistically I would be in the lowest echelon of the enlisted Operations division

✨ Your favorite Star Trek quote: UGH only ONE??? “Risk is our business!” and “Hold on tight and survive” have a special place in my heart, but then so does “You are my friend. I have been, and always shall be, yours.” 😭💙💛 HNNNGH AND “Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels...” I CAN’T EVEN FINISH IT IT’S SO DEVASTATING 😫😫😫

✨ Your favorite Starfleet uniform: Mmmmmmm the lime green dress uniform with gold piping that Kirk wears for special occasions in TOS. If I could wear any uniform myself on a daily basis though, I would choose the “yellow” TOS tunic mixed with the pants from Voyager and the knee-high boots from “Mirror Mirror” because comfort + wider-ankle non-swashbuckle-y pant legs + sexy above-the-knee boots = *drool* 🤤

✨ Your favorite alien species: Vulcans and Tribbles! Caveat: I always wanted to see more of the Andorians and Tellarites, I feel like they sort of get the shaft overall.

✨ Your favorite Star Trek doctor: McCoy, Leonard H! (He chooses the danger, you know.)

✨ A Star Trek food/beverage you like/would like to try: Those Play-Doh cubes they serve the ambassadors’ summit look awfully good, LOL. I’d like to try Saurian brandy since Kirk seems to favor it, and I admit I’m curious what the dark purple plomeek actually tastes like...

✨ Klingon or Vulcan? Vulcans, all the way. Emotional repression is my jam!

✨ Tribbles or Sehlats? This is unfair!!!! I WANT BOTH!!!!

✨ Communicator or tricorder? I love the sound effects of the communicators, but let’s be real, I have a debilitating fear/anxiety of all things telecom-related, so it’s a tricorder (and a Type II phaser) for me.

✨ Your Star Trek OTP(s): Kirk/Spock is my only OTP. Like... my actual ONE true pairing, as the name itself implies. (I’m also a casual fan of Uhura/Scotty, Geordi/Data, Janeway/Chakotay, The Doctor/7 of 9, Tuvok/Neelix [God there was such POTENTIAL I can’t even...], and Troi/Riker but ONLY if Deanna is the dominant partner and Will has taken her name.)

I suppose I’ll tag... @yourea--stubborn--man @trekmemes @quarkssuit @beauty-grace-outer-space @thetimetostrikeislater @burning--amber @technofae @tau9 @ and anyone else who wants to join in! (Apologies if you’ve already done this, I’m just lightyears behind!)

[anonymousdior]

My Lived Experience

I’ve been silent the last few weeks, not because I don’t have a voice or an opinion on what’s happening in this world right now or even more specifically, in my home country. But, because there is just so many feelings of all kind of everything. But, I feel like it’s time to speak up and tell my story and my views. 

First off, If you are new here or need a reminder; I am Tri-Racial. My father is African American; my mother is Italian and Indigenous. Mix those three with being a medical anomaly; it can be confusing thing to divulge to people. Which is probably why I usually don’t. In fact, most people don’t know anything about me I would say. But, that’s about to change.

Let’s get real blunt.. I grew up within Racism. In fact, Racism is as much as my family as a brother and sister would be. How so? One family was so disgusted with my blackness that they administered burning liquids to my scalp to change the way my hair follicles grow. Yes, this was something the main culprit had researched. This family had called me every slur in the book, “The N word”, “Burrhead” were some to name a few. I was treated differently from my cousins because they were considered “pure” and I was “polluted and dirty.” That was just one family. My other family refuses to acknowledge me due to being mixed and insults are hurled on a regular basis in reference to my whiteness or indigenous side. In fact, some self hatred resides within my Father’s family as well. On another note, I was given away and sent away because of my blackness and how it would be easier if I was not nearby for the One side of the family.

Fast forward a few years, I was living with my meema and mooma, a strong Cameroonian woman and African man and my uncle C, an African American male. I am in a neighbourhood that was 96% African American and had a 92% crime rate. Racism was very much apart of this neighbourhood. The neighbourhood was fenced in, to not allow the residents inside venture out. In fact, there was a school, library and a shitty grocery store within this fenced area. It was expected that everyone residing within these buildings would stay within the fence and not “pollute” the rest of Atlanta. If you did get out, well expect to be hunted down and harassed. If you wanted a job, you would have to lie on your application of where you lived. The APD would roll in every day, with guns in hand, not even in the holster anymore. They would rough you up for no reason and if you fought back, you’re arrested on the spot and lucky if you made it to the precinct without needing medical attention. However, in the “white” neighbourhoods, no policing was needed and when you were arrested, you were treated as a human. This neighbourhood was treated as less than. Don’t think the APD are bad? Don’t understand why Atlantans are so suspicious of the APD?

Let’s get real again...I was walking home one night from my shift at T-Mobile. It was dark but I was dirt ass poor, not to mention my money had been taken from me (That will be discussed later on). I am minding my own business and all of a sudden, the APD with their cherries on pull over and draw their guns at me, I am 17 years old and alone, not to mention a girl. They yell at me to get on the ground only once, when I ask what is happening or why, I am lunged at and my face is pushed into the ground. With guns still drawn at my head and this heavy officer on me, I’m asked where I live and what am I? I answer the name of the neighbourhood and I am bi-racial. All of a sudden I’m told that I will do and I fit the description of an aggravated assault with a deadly weapon from a bar that was at least a 2.5-hour walk away. I was arrested and thrown into the back of the car, while wearing my T-Mobile uniform, the whole time I am pleading with them that I didn’t do this crime, that I was at work and to call my boss, he will tell them. I was told by an Officer to shut up and that all people from my neighbourhood are guilty and that anyone with “Black” is straight up wrong and guilty of being alive. AN OFFICER, someone who is supposed to serve and protect. They refused to listen to anything I had to say, didn’t allow me a call to notify anybody and threw me in jail and as they threw me in there, the arresting officer called me a “dirty ghetto N word.” I spent a month fighting charges that weren’t mine to begin with and that based off my registered ethnicity aka racism, I was automatically guilty. In the end, a judge was smart enough to actually read the whole case and discovered I actually DID NOT fit the description among other things.. However, I was still 1 hearing from going to prison for 10-20 years... all because I was bi-racial and one of those races was black.

I had a grandfather once, we called him mooma. He was an amazing man and one of my hero’s. He was amazing, respected anyone and everyone and would love to talk proverbs with you. A god-fearing man. When I was young, he had an “accident” that left him permanently blind. By accident I mean white supremacists thought it would be fun and an act of god to my mooma who was simply asking if there was biracial kid books within a bookstore. After he left the bookstore that’s when they jumped him. The APD did nothing and refused to file a police report and dropped my mooma off at a mental health area instead of a hospital.  Years from that incident, my mooma would leave for a work trip to Texas and would never return home. My mooma became just another black man gone missing. When we went to report it to the police, we waited 3 hours to file the report while other White families were served asap. When they got around to us, they never wrote anything down and said he probably had a 2nd family because he’s black.... My mooma was murdered by White people who thought they were better then my grandfather...Who didn’t care he had a family waiting for him and a granddaughter waiting for the next critter book. Someone deemed my mooma was not fit to live simply because he was a black man.

As I grew up, I took note how other kids would be treated compared to myself and the people within my neighbourhood. When my uncle would take me to the aquarium, we would be questioned for 5 minutes on the pricing of the aquarium and how there was no guns or drugs allowed. During this time, the white families were let through with no problems. The black families were always questioned and lectured. When I went to school I noticed the kids from my church had better books, their books went to Bill Clinton, my books went to Jimmy Carter. They were assigned homework and readings, I went to class with the lesson on the board with maybe only 4-5 kids in the classroom while our teacher read the newspaper or a book, the white kids teachers were invested in their future. 

As I went into high school, I started attending church with my meema at her request. In her words, “to pray the white devil out of you.” While my meema was busy praying for the white devil out of me, I was getting beat up every Sunday in the back of the church for being black by the pastor kids and their friends. They called me every name in the book, called me disgusting, ripped my shirt and spat on me. They always stole my money (as per for my comment a few paragraphs up, I was always broke because of it) In fact, one Sunday they beat me up so badly I went to the hospital. We tried to file a police report but the APD never came... That was the last time we went to that white church. From this moment on, I have only stepped in a church twice.

When I moved back to Canada, I was hopeful that it would be different and more peaceful. In fact, I have heard how not racist Canada is. I have to disagree; it’s just more behind your back, less in your face then back home. I once was told I need to calm down on the alcohol as I’ll fully turn into a “Drunken Savage.” Or not wanting to learn about the culture and mocking it at every moment someone has. Of course, a racist slur towards my Indigenous side.

Even from my Canadian city I reside in, Georgia still inflicts is racist ways on me. The black vote is suppressed to the point legal actions have been launched all around. The white adults can register easily and usually have a flawless voting process. That is not the case for the minority population and people who reside within low income neighbourhoods. To the point, the last election I was given a hard time to register saying my W looks like a V and that I was trying to defraud the voting process. After persistence, I was able to vote but was given 3 faulty ballots that were already filled out for the current president. When asked for new ones each time I was told why wouldn’t I vote for Donald Trump, he loves the poor. On top of that, this year’s voting process was no different and I was given a timeline that was not given to my white friends to register. I was given the run-around and every excuse to vote and was told the same excuse, that my paperwork was filled out with the wrong color pen, that there was problems with a computer system that they don't even use to register or that I was registered within a different state. None of this was an issue before they read where I was from and the ethnicity on file... 

The above is just a taste of the racism I have experienced/witnessed. It’s a daily battle within myself to love myself and embrace all that I am. The Black, the white and the indigenous. I still avoid mirrors, most photos and you will never catch me at the beach or the pool in fear my hair get’s wet and you see that little hint of curl come to light. 

So yes, these protests are justifiable. Yes, the Atlanta protests were the first turn to ugly and violent.. It’s because we are angry and it’s not just these few incidents, it’s a history of corruption, systemic and blatant racism. It’s years of oppression and anger bubbling it’s ugly head to the surface. I can assure you, it’s always been there..I end this blog with one of my favourite quotes from a movie “The Great Debaters” (If you have not seen it you should!) 

“Saint Augustine said, "An unjust law is no law at all," which means I have a right, even a duty, to resist -- with violence or civil disobedience...You should pray I choose the latter.”

[x-whyareyoureadingthis-x]

Frank Iero and the Future Violents Concert

I'm still dizzy, and it's been more than 12hours but that's fine because it was So. Fucking. Amazing. And I'm not gonna stop talking about it any time soon.

So it all started pretty awful: the two hours I need to get there turned into five due to traffic jams, the weather forecast said cloudy but dry, 16°C (60°F), but it was streaming rain and only 10°C (50°F) and I only had my hoodie. But luckily there were roofs to stand under.

I didn't get in as one of the first people, but because all the others crowded around the middle, where Frank would be standing, I got a lot of space at the side.

Mobina Galore was so, so good. I listened to their songs on Saturday to get a feeling for them, and they are good on record. But they are fucking great live. Marcia, the drummer, played barefeeted (I only know that Andy Hurley does that too), and she is super pretty. What was really cool for me to see was that she is about my height and stature, and it was just so great to see someone "like me" (aka not slim as a beanstalk) on stage. And Jenna has such a hypnotising atmosphere while playing. I was grinning like a fool the entire time.

But who I really came to see were the Future Violents. Because I was standing far at the side, Evan was right in front of me, but I also got the most amazing view on Frank and Kayleigh. Only Matt was mostly covered by Frank, and Tucker was hidden behind his drums 😖

One thing I couldn't stop thinking about when it came to their performance: the hair

A ranking from most to least likely to see nothing because if hair:

Evan. He loves headbanging. And about half of the time he can't have seen anything bc he looked like It from Adam's Family. Also: super soft looking hair.

Tucker. The dude just manages to get the hair into his eyes all the time

Frank. Short hair but still in his face. And once he started sweating, it stayed there

Kayleigh. She just had a single strand of hair that contined getting into her vision bc she's a clever girl and used a hair tie

Matt. Also clever: short hair.

Also worth mentioning: Kayleigh is still and always will be fucking beautiful, she's like an angel, seriously. Also I never noticed the piano in "Medical Square Gardens" but it's so beautiful, wow.

Tucker's drumming is an art in itself. It's not about performance necessarily, but just the way he hit the Ride...

Matt is pretty stationary, but does this little nodding along

Evan, as I already said: headbanging. Loads. Also he has a super nice voice (I barely heard Frank, but Evan was well audible, I think I stood right in the blast of his monitor), and he's just generally perfect. Perfect hair, beautiful face, fucking talented (and after their set I asked for a pick and he gave me one *fangirl squealing*)

And last but not least, Frank. Being Frank. Jumping, shouting, singing, rocking... Favourite quote of the night "this next song is about me, and it might be about you too" and then he started playing "I'm a mess" and I've really felt that. Also when the techy prepared the stage, he tapped the cables to the stage, every cable getting one stripe of tape, maybe two, and Frank’s guitar cable got like ten. I think that says a lot about his dynamics on stage. But we all know how he can be, don’t we?

The whole show was amazing. I can barely talk today, and the concert was the best therapy I've had in ages.

The bass and the drums make everything vibrate, and it feels like all the negative stuff gets shaken loose and with the next bang in the music the sound just blasts everything away, out of your body. And you can scream the lyrics along, shout out all the frustration, all the lines that always hit you in the guts like they do, tear out the bad things that make them so important to you, and having Frank and Evan scream these words right back at you, watching Kayleigh nodding along while playing the keyboard, Matt rocking the bass and Tucker blasting these beats right into your heart... It's the most liberating feeling I can imagine. (I don't need antidepressants, I need punk rock concerts).

I think the white guitar leaning against the orange speaker is Frank's, but Evan was playing it.

But one of the most special moments of the night was after Laura Jane Grace had finished, and the Techies started packing up. I had written a letter to the band, telling them how their music got me through life on a daily basis. I was still debating on whether to give it to the one tech guy (he was in a picture with Frank recently, I think, and I also know him from two years ago), or the merch guy (who was super sweet. It feels like all the merch people are always super lovely). But I was scared they might lose it, and I didn’t want to give it to them while they were still in the middle of working.

And then Tucker goes on stage and helps with his drums. But I didn’t want to bother him while he was working as well, but then I spotted Kayleigh as she was walking towards the stage (you can see the access to the stage from the audience, and the door to the parking lot is directly on the other side of the stage too). So I start walking to the stage, but see the security guard. He’s been standing next to me during the concert most of the time, so he already knows me, and he’s giving me this look. So, about equally far away from the stage as from him, I ask if I can quickly go to the stage, but he’s like “nah, not really.” So I tell him I just quickly want to hand Kayleigh something, and he asks what I could possibly want to give her, making me tell him I wrote a letter, and he’s about to half-heartedly deny me that, but Kayleigh is already half-way over the stage so I’m thinking I’m faster than this guy, and he doesn’t really seem to care anyway, so I just quickly run over and call her, making her turn around. Security guard couldn’t care less (I think the clue was that I asked. He probably would have interfered if I hadn’t). So I give her the letter, saying it’s just to let them all know how much their music means to me, and she gets all flattered and smiley and surprised and happy. I added that I saw her two years ago, and was really looking forward to seeing her here again, and she even remembered the venue (another one from yesterday), and then she asked for my name (aka killing me). When we had said good bye, I walked past the security guard again, and thanked him, wishing him a good night. Only got a disinterested nod. I’m really glad I was cocky enough to give this thing a chance. A year ago I would have been too scared to possibly get into trouble, but I think the whole rebellious thing is starting to work for me.

So all in all: very very very great evening, and as expected: my expectations have been exceeded.

[melbourneswifty]

You can’t spell AWSOME without ME. @taylorswift thank you for teaching us to embrace our individuality and be proud of ourselves. Here’s a few things you can’t spell Georgia without... aka things that make me ME: - Patting every single cat I meet and saying “KITTTTTY” - quoting Harry Potter references on a daily basis. - Bringing Taylor Swift (yes you) up in conversations where I know it’s not warranted but I just can’t help myself. - watching buffy the vampire slayer kicking ass! - Debating EVERYTHING (sorry I know it’s annoying but lawyer life) - Day dreaming about being at the beach every single day! 💗💗💗💗💗

[paintedface]

only for her

summary: you have a major crush on the princess of wakanda, but when you message her, you never expect her to reply.

pairing: shuri x fem!reader / background steve x bucky

word count: 1500 words

warnings: gay-ass fluff

notes: this is the first in my ‘pride’ series, and this is for all my wlw bby’s, especially for the younger ones, because it involves shuri. this is also for my girl, @whyisbuckyso, because we both have major crushes on letitia wright.

also, if anyone knows how to create fic banners/gifs, and would be willing to create a banner for ‘pride,’ then please message me! i would appreciate it so so much!

Permanent Tags are OPEN | masterlist

You were lounging on the couch, head in Bucky’s lap and feet almost in Steve’s face, eyes drifting close as you browsed your phone.

“Hey, Buck, what was T’Challa’s sister’s name?” You ask lazily, looking up at him as his fingers paused from stroking your hair.

“Shuri? What about her?” He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile touching his face at the thought of the person who had helped to cure him.

“She’s really pretty.” You say breezily.

Steve laughs, pushing your feet away from his line of sight. “Ooh, Y/N has a crush.”

You tilt your head up to glare at him, as you click on her Instagram profile. 124k followers. Holy shit.

“I’d never have a chance with her, Steve. Shit, I don’t even know if she’s gay!” You exclaim, despite pressing the follow button.

Steve rolls his eyes, gesturing towards Bucky. “Y/N, I looked like a shrimp with no muscles, in a time where being gay was illegal, yet I still managed to score this dumb oaf.”

“Hey!” Bucky reaches over to shove Steve as the blonde man laughs, shaking his head. “But it is true. Give it a go, girl. She may be bisexual, pansexual, or something like that. You never know.”

You sigh, scrolling through the girl’s pictures. Intelligent, beautiful, god, you’re falling hard. Though you doubt that she doesn’t look at her DM’s that much, you type out a quick, ‘hey!’ before throwing your phone down.

“Urgh, this is never going to work, guys! Channel me your gay vibes.” You mumble, head falling into your hands. 

The two of them shrug, before leaning over until you shove them apart. “Without kissing, for fuck’s sake! I see enough of that every damn day!”

“Oh my god. Brother!” Shuri yells, her hands trembling a little as she bounds over to where her T’Challa is sitting in the palace courtyards, with Nakia.

“Yes, Shuri?” He turns to her, a smile on his face at her apparent excitement.

“Y/N followed me on Instagram! You know, those two gay white boys’ sort of adopted daughter?” She squeals, her eyes wide.

T’Challa raises an eyebrow. “You mean Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes? And Y/N Y/L/N? The girl you’ve been crushing on for the past few months?”

Shuri’s eyes widen even more, and she pushes T’Challa, making him teeter on the edge of his seat. “N-No!”

Nakia smiles gently at her lover’s amusement and her friend’s embarrassment. “Shuri, if you like her, than you should talk to her. Did she message you?”

Shuri nods, barely able to contain herself. The rainbow flag emoji in your bio only serves to aid her confidence.

“Then reply back! Maybe with a question or just a greeting. I know you don’t have a lot of experience, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright.” Shuri pecks Nakia on the cheek and ruffles T’Challa’s hair, before bouncing away.

T’Challa sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Ah, young love.”

@y/n

hey!

Your breath hitches at the sight of a new message.

@princess-shuri

hi there!

“Bucky!” You shriek, jumping onto him as soon as he turns around. He stumbles back, laughing a little.

“What? What is it?”

“Shuri messaged me back!” You show him your phone, and he grins, flicking his fringe out of his face.

“She’s a good kid. Talk to her more, see how you go. She also likes those...mee-mees.” Bucky crinkles his nose at the last word, still not being able to wrap his head around twenty first century things.

“They’re memes, Bucky.” You correct, as he pulls you to sit in between him and Steve on the couch.

“Same thing. Now text her back.”

@y/n

how are you? what’s the time over in wakanda?

@princess-shuri is typing

@princess-shuri

I’m good! it’s 10:40pm right now, wbu in New York?

wait, you’re y/n y/l/n, right? bucky and steve’s kinda daughter?

@y/n

yeah that’s me ahaha, they’ve sort of become my dads now

it’s great, honestly, the two gay dads

@princess-shuri

heckity, that’d be awesome

this is them back in the 30s, when they weren’t “gay”

@y/n

FHKFFJJHFHIDID I LOVE THAT VINE, also that’s so fuckinf true

@princess-shuri

i played that vine whenever steve came to visit bucky in wakanda

god, it was so gay

@y/n

lmao, just like me

“Shit. Was that too much information?” You hand your phone to Steve, who shakes his head.

“It lets her in on your sexuality in a hidden joke. It’s good.” He muses. You almost forget that he’s a hundred years old, because he’s damn well informed.

@princess-shuri

that’s a big mood, damn

@y/n

bless the gays

@princess-shuri

I bleSS THE GAYS DOWN IN AFRICA

You let out a giggle despite yourself, before typing out a response. The two super soldiers just smile at your excitement, remembering how it felt to have their first love.

It’s been two months since you’ve been texting Shuri on a daily, almost hourly, basis. You’ve swapped phone numbers, and your vine quoting has gotten to an extreme. You’ve FaceTimed before, and the two of you spent the whole time complimenting each other and just outright screaming. You pitied the workers in her lab, and Steve and Bucky, who just glared at you intensely, but were hiding their smiles.

“My brother says that we’ll be going to New York next month! I’ll get to meet you!” Shuri screams, the moment she flashes on screen.

Your eyes widen. “Really?!”

“Yeah! We’ll be coming to the tower, to stay for at least another month!” Her smile is so bright that it makes your heart race a little. You’re so screwed.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Miss Y/L/N. Good to see all of you ag-“ T’Challa starts to say as he approaches the three of you, but an excited shriek disrupts his sentence. He turns around in confusion when his sister runs past him and straight into your arms.

“Y/N!” She gasps, and you stumble back, but manage to squeeze her back tightly.

“Oh my god, Shuri!” You squeak, burying your head in her neck as she giggles.

T’Challa rolls his eyes, stepping closer to Steve and Bucky. “She’s been...crushing on Y/N for ages.”

Steve smirks, looking back at the two of you, now hugging on the floor. “She’s not the only one.”

The Wakandan King sighs, crossing his arms and smiling. “Young love.”

“Your room is next to mine, and we can hang out in my living room whenever we want.” You explain, your hands trembling slightly from excitement.

Shuri gives you a wide grin, her perfectly white teeth showing. “Aka, we can watch vines into the night.”

You nod, plopping yourself down on the sofa. “Yes, what else would we do? There’s no other way to spend nights on the couch.”

You laugh to yourself, but then you realise that your crush has fallen silent, and you tense a little.

“Shuri?”

She tilts her head towards you, biting her lip a little. “I...I think I know another way to while away the time on the couch.”

Your breath hitches, because oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“Y-yeah? And what’s that?” You can feel your cheeks heating up as she inches closer, your knees touching.

She pauses, looking down at her lap, as if debating whether to move forward or not, but finally, she looks back up. The cool touch of her rings against your skin, and her thumb brushing across your cheekbone, sends shivers up your spine as you tentatively rest your hand on her waist.

“T’Challa told me that Steve and Bucky said this. So I hope they’re not wrong.” She breathes, and before you can ask what she means, she leans in, pressing her lips against yours.

Your heart races as you pull her closer, because god, it’s really happening. Her lips are soft, and there’s the faintest taste of sugar on them. You can feel your hands shaking even more as you press forward into the kiss, hoping that your inexperience doesn’t show. But she doesn’t seem to care, her other hand cupping the back of your neck gently. You feel her smile, and she nips your bottom lip, making you yelp, a soft laugh rising out of her. The two of you just begin giggling together, before just dissolving into full blown laughter, both of you clutching to each other as you laugh.

“What...what did Steve and Bucky tell T’Challa?” You wheeze, and Shuri doubles over again, giggling at your lack of breath.

“T-They said that you had a crush on me, and my brother told them I had one back, cause it’s true.” She gasps, pulling you into a hug as you begin giggling again.

“God, we’re so-so fucking gay.” You grin, and she cackles, digging her fingers into your ribcage as she tickles you, making you squeal again.

When the two of you come into dinner holding hands, Steve and Bucky whoop, their eyes shining happily, T’Challa smiles at Nakia, and you can distantly hear Peter scream happily over the rest of the Avengers’ claps.

permanent tags (possibly closing): @vibranium-arm / @gallifreyansass / @omalleysgirl22 / @girlwith100names / @buckysinthesinbin / @petersneds / @buckyofthemyscira / @iamwarrenspeace / @alohabucky / @cuddlysteven / @buckybarnesappreciationsociety / @debbielovesbucky / @metal-armed-dino / @helloitscrowley / @sebastian-stans-thighs / @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics / @lorna-danee / @feelmyroarrrr / @mjuikoli / @megan-atthedisco / @yoyolovesbucky / @sebbies / @carriefish-er / @jurassicbarnes / @ssweet-empowerment / @shieldagentofthemonth / @palaiasaurus64 / @i-love-superhero / @andiewinneris / @ailynalonso15 / @bywonater / @vanillaicecrusher / @titty-teetee / @breezy1415 / @the-geeky-engineer / @mercedesbarnes / @bioticgoddess / @thewonderfulworldofafangirl / @realgreglestrade / @memory-of-a-goldfish / @amynotsantiago / @bandbooktvaddict / @edgyroses / @buckysmaingirl / @thefridgeismybestie / @cumonbucky / @untimelyideasforstories / @ridingmoxley / @jadalecki-jackles / @peters-vlogs / @em--z / @hdthdthdt / @thefridgeismybestie / @jamie-leah / @heyrogers / @ivy-16-18 / @marvlemarvlemarvlemarvle / @nephilimseb / @saveyourbucky / @wonderless-screwup / @rashinyx2002 / @httpmcrvel / @thunderous-flower / @buckys-newarm / @cordysblog / @swanky-batman / @bythebloodofafangirl / @disneymarina / @whyisbuckyso / @katiekitty261 / @plaid-skirt / @stan-by-me / @samwinchxtr / @mypage-myfandoms / @its-daydreamer23 / @goldenkillmonger / @savonid / @ohhhotstan / @softlysgtbarnes / @perksofeatingbacon / @sweet-barnes / @clever-theorist-painter / @thesergeantandstevie / @hewassortapunkroque / @rosescentedblood / @swtltlmrvlgrl / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @sydm15 / @jitterbuck / @impossiblyteenagestudent96400 / @winters-beauty / @marvel-biatch / @ultimategalaxyprogram

(strike through means I couldn't tag you, sorry!)