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winterarmyy · 2 months ago

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I Knew It Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.8k++

Warnings: angsty, maybe a tad too angst. a bit fluffy, if you search for it, and everything in between. non-descriptive sex scene but definitely contain adult (18+) contents. so, reader discretion.

Inspiration: @buck-star asked in a community post, “The sentence is: 'And then we were standing in front of one another again…' How would you continue it?” and this is my answer.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky adjusted the sleeves of his jacket; a dark leather, matching the gloves he was wearing. Underneath was a charcoal coloured shirt; his pants was dark-wash jeans, frayed slightly at the edges. It was an effort to blend into the festive sea of people. Despite the spring air of Central Park, his style remained a mixture of shadowed past and muted present, a mix that barely fit in with the brightness of the day.

The launch of the Avengers statues was a grand event; a reminder of battles fought, lives saved, a place for the public to show their gratitude and admiration. Honestly, in Bucky’s opinion, all of this was a little bit over the top. In which, Steve agreed. They both think that they were undeserving to be sculptured and displayed like this.

Even the Avengers are human, excluding Thor, they were mortals; unfit to be worshipped as they are now. Yet, after being coaxed with quite a diplomatic, exaggerating speech about how ‘the people need a hero to look up to’, Steve ended up convinced. Not that it matters, but Stark was the one who gave that speech.

Nonetheless, Bucky couldn’t really object to the decision, but he did stated that he will not participate in the event with the rest of the team. And they can’t really do much about that, forcing him to will be equivalent to kidnapping and Bucky had literally filed a police report for it before. So, they won’t take their chances.

The cheers and thundering of applause rippled through the park, filling every space with a strange blend of solemnity and celebration. Bucky lingered on the edge, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tensed beneath the weight of too many eyes while his own focused on his team on the make-shift stage near the statues.

He preferred it here. No red carpets. No standing in front of flashing cameras with a smile that would never sit quite right on his lips.

With less aliens around and Hydra in hiding, this should have been a familiar scene; the Avengers posing and the people cheering. But for Bucky, the novelty had long worn off. The noise washed over him like waves lapping against a shore he couldn’t care to meet.

Shifting on his feet, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his gloves, as if the urge to retreat was creeping under his skin. The cheers, the bright flashes of cameras, all blended into a muffled hum that made him wonder how soon he could slip away unnoticed.

Until he saw her.

She stood beneath the shade of a blooming cherry tree, the soft pink petals floating down around her as if nature itself wanted to frame her as a living art.

Y/N.

Bucky's breath was caught somewhere between inhaling and exhaling. Her mere presence had left him frozen. Then, the noise of the crowd slowly fading, the applause turning duller as his heart pounded in his chest, each beat harder, louder, until it drowned out the world around him. For a few painful moments, he felt as if his heart might force its way free from his ribcage, breaking him apart in the process.

She wore that sundress again. The light fabric swayed gently with each breeze, caressing her figure, the pastel colour that reminded him of the flowers he used to get for her. It was the same dress she’d worn that day; the day he realised falling for her wasn't a choice but a reality that had already happened. He swallowed hard, memories surging in torrents. Her laughter echoed in his ears, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things that mattered to her.

Now however, beneath the sweet sundress and that familiar grace, there was a darkness under her eyes. Shadows etched into her delicate skin, sadness lingering; still and silent, behind the gaze that once held nothing but warmth. Bucky's jaw tightened as he took it all in, every unspoken truth laid bare on her face. He knew why; he’d heard whispers through mutual acquaintances. About the heaviness she tried to mask, about the pain she tried to live through.

Seeing it now, in the flesh, was so much worse.

It broke him.

Again. His chest ached, a raw wound ripped within his chest; for every moment she suffered and every part of him that couldn’t fix it. Bucky wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if an invisible vine had him rooted on earth, willing him to witness the toll their separation had taken on her. How ironic, he thought bitterly. For someone once considered a ghost by the world, he was all too aware of how haunting it felt to see her pain in living colour.

The bar had been crowded that night when they met, laughter and music clashing together in a storm of contagious intoxication. Bucky found his usual spot in the corner, however unusually alone this time. His shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket; his gloved hands nursed a drink he wasn’t truly interested in. He was simply another brooding man in a bar, trying to swallow his own bitterness, trying to forget. Elena’s words, his ex’s words, echoed in his mind; taunting and cold, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.

“Mind if I sit?”

Her voice cut through the noise. He’d looked up, barely masking his surprise. The woman standing before him was... a force of nature. She didn’t wait for his permission and slid into the seat beside him, a confident smile tugging at her lips.

She was so bright, so unapologetically there.

It almost felt disorienting. Her eyes sparkled like she’d already decided he was interesting and wasn’t about to change her mind. “You always brood like this, or is it a special occasion?” she teased, tilting her head.

“Special occasion,” he replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. “Guess I’m lucky, huh?”

She laughed, loud and unfiltered, drawing curious looks. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass to him as if they were old friends sharing a private joke.

Bucky fought to suppress the twitch of his lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. “What brings you to this fine establishment?” he asked, his voice flat but not harsh. “Looking to rescue sad souls like me?”

“Rescue?” She leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Please. I’m here for the entertainment value.”

“Brutal,” he said, but he couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth lifted. A real smile was threatening to form.

Y/N, as she introduced herself a few moments later, was a whirlwind of honesty and charm. She spoke without hesitation, as if every thought had a right to be voiced. She teased him about the gloves he refused to take off, made a biting but hilarious comment about her friend’s taste in men as she watched her and the man grinding it on the dance floor, and then, out of nowhere, zeroed in on him.

She gestured to his drink. “Let me guess. Your ex. She, or he, I don’t judge…” A tiniest smile curved on the corner of his lips. “She.” he clarified which was replied with a glint of interest in Y/N’s eyes. She nodded, “Okay, she left you for someone who didn’t know how to brood so attractively.”

Bucky choked on his drink, laughter erupting before he could help himself. It was warm and a little bashful, completely genuine. He hadn’t laughed like that in... he couldn’t remember how long.

Y/N was not expecting much tonight. She was literally dragged by her friends to ’go out, meet people, get laid’. Truthfully, she wasn’t really expecting anything more than a few hours of banter and maybe some fleeting connection, just enough to make her smile. Witty remarks, a few drinks, teasing anyone interesting enough to engage; that was her aim.

But when she saw him, brooding in his corner, a storm trapped beneath layers of leather and cold eyes, curiosity overtook reason. She wanted to know if he would entertain her.

And he did.

Bucky or as he introduced himself, James, was sarcasm wrapped in shadows, his words carrying a sharpness that wasn’t meant to hurt, just to deflect. She found it oddly endearing, a defence mechanism she recognized all too well. She wanted to pull more from him, so she leaned in, laughed too loudly, pressed buttons she guessed would make him react.

At first, it was just fun.

But then he smiled. God, when he smiled, her world tilted; much against her will too. It was like the first hint of sunlight breaking through a dense, dark cloud. His laughter was warm and unpracticed, spilling out of him as if it surprised him too. The moment stretched, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough.

Her heart momentarily shuddered. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, blooming a soft pink she couldn’t hide. So, she covered it with more wit, more charm, desperate to keep that smile there a second longer.

“I’m kidding. Kind of,” she said, eyes softening as she studied him. “But seriously, imagine missing out on you. That’s just sad at this point.”

But underneath the humour, there was a flutter of something much profound. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Her heartbeat raced and she felt exposed. How ridiculous, she thought, to be undone by a smile; a real one, genuine and imperfect, just as raw as her own attempt to draw it out.

The concept of time blurred after that. Drinks flowed, words tumbled out like secrets they didn’t know they were sharing. Banter turned into stories, laughter into pauses that spoke louder than the music blaring around them. At some point, she reached for his hand, not caring that it was gloved or why. Her fingers lingered, hesitant for half a breath, before resting there as if they’d been doing so for years.

The air thickened and inches shrink.

When he kissed her, she found herself kissing him back with a need she hadn’t recognized before. It wasn’t about filling the void; at least, not only that. It was about the way he leaned into her touch, how he kissed like it was the last act that could hold him together. It was raw and open and imperfect and she was high on it.

Despite the fleeting, breath-stealing kisses they shared prior, Bucky had only meant to see her safely to her home. That was the plan, the line he swore he wouldn’t cross. But when her lips met his again just outside her apartment, everything unravelled. Her kiss was insistent, needy in a way that mirrored the ache deep inside him. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them, shutting out the world and any remnants of restraint he had left.

They stumbled to the bed, still fully dressed, every touch and kiss growing more urgent. Her hands found the edges of his jacket, fingers seeking to peel it away. But when she tugged, he pulled back, his breaths ragged. “Wait,” he murmured, eyes cast down. His hesitation was a stark contrast to the flames between them moments before.

She paused immediately, her gaze softening. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard but unwilling to let him slip away either.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, the words thick, heavy.

A crease formed between her brows. “What? Your name is not James?”

The question, so genuine and earnest, pulled a laugh from him; short, almost incredulous. “No. I am James, but…” He ran a gloved hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes.

“But…?” she prompted, leaning in, her attention unwavering.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, each syllable weighted.

For a moment, she was silent. He could see her piecing it together, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then understanding dawned, slow and certain. “You’re…” she began, just as he said, “The Winter Soldier.” But what came from her lips was, “The Avenger.”

They stared at each other, the tension snapping into something fragile, almost surreal. “What?” they both said in unison, the word a mix of disbelief and irony.

The absurdity of it cracked something inside him, and he laughed; a real, deep laugh that felt like a release. She joined him, their laughter intertwining in a way that felt like a mutual understanding. At the moment, Bucky realised that she didn’t flinch or shrink back. She met him where he was, without hesitation. He felt a pull; unsettling but oddly comforting; and, for a split second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

The humour melted into something more intense as she leaned closer, her hands found his again. “I want this, James,” she whispered, peeling away his glove. She cupped his cool, metal hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. The contrast of warmth against vibranium made his chest tighten. “I want you.” she spoke almost breathlessly; her eyes gazed up at him with an endearing plea.

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something much softer, “I want you too,” he said, his voice low, unguarded.

They moved together, shedding barriers with every kiss and touch. When their clothes finally fell away, they explored each other with as much urgency and wonder. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, almost desperate. He wanted to memorise her reactions. He wanted to give as much as he could.

It was raw and consuming, a night spent discovering each other. There was nothing mechanical, nothing detached. For hours, it was just them, bodies moving in unison and their moans and groans of pleasure mingling in a symphony that can challenge a siren’s song.

He found himself lost in her, in the way her skin felt beneath his, in the way she moaned for him. He couldn’t hold back, not when she responded to him with such hunger, her body moving against his with a need that matched his own.

Every touch felt like a revelation, a new discovery, and he was pulled deeper into her, into the warmth and the rawness of the moment. It was as if time itself had stopped, and all that mattered was the heat of their connection.

When morning came, the light creeping in through the blinds, they lay bashfully, tangled in the sheets. For a few moments, there was only silence, a comfortable quiet punctuated by the slow return of reality. He turned to her, the words were heavy, he knew it, but he continued, “I’m not ready for… anything serious,” he admitted, hating the way it sounded, but knowing he owed her the truth.

She met his gaze, her expression soft and understanding. “That’s okay,” she said. “We don’t need to label it. It can be what it is.”

“Casual?” he asked, a hint of humour back in his voice.

She smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Casual.”

They both laughed, the sound soft and real. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough.

The next few months, their ‘casual’ arrangement became something she thought about far too often and yet tried to pretend wasn’t pressing too deep. The sex was undeniably great, almost maddeningly so. It wasn’t just the way he touched her, though that alone was enough to steal her breath; the careful, deliberate caresses that made her feel cherished and desired all at once.

It was the way he explored her as if every inch of her, the weight of his attention, the way he moved with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or devour her. And maybe that was why it was so intoxicating; because she was falling for him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was everything in between. She fell for the way he could be painfully serious one moment and then crack the most unexpected joke, a hint of dry humour lighting up his eyes. She fell for the way he made sure her tea was always brewed just the way she liked, even though he claimed to be terrible at domestic things.

She fell for his unspoken kindness; the way he would slip a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch, or his habit of standing protectively between her and crowded places without even thinking about it. It was all so subtle, so Bucky, and it deteriorated her defences bit by bit.

And Bucky on the other hand, tried not to let himself be too vulnerable around her. But Y/N had a warmth that made it hard for him to stay closed off. She didn’t push; she was just; a steady, comforting presence that felt like safety. Sometimes, without meaning to, he’d spill pieces of himself.

Like the night he told her about Elena; the betrayal, the gaslighting on how she cheated on him because of him; it was his trauma and depression that had driven her away. As if she was trying to make it worse, as if she had a vendetta to isolate him from everyone else.

And Y/N had listened without judgement, her eyes soft with compassion. “That’s not on you,” she had whispered, her hand covering his. “She was the problem, not you.” When the weight of his past grew too heavy, she was there.

And when she opened up about her own scars; the ex who wouldn’t leave her alone, the fear that lingered in the shadows; Bucky listened, fierce protectiveness hardening his features. That night, instead of touching each other’s body, they caressed each other’s innermost scars. They’d talk late into the night; their words heavy, but never too much for the other to bear.

And ever since their dynamic was a shifting dance, effortlessly dirty and playful one minute, his lips teasing at her neck, their words to each other were dripping with sin. The next, they’d be soft and tender, his forehead pressed to hers as they simply breathed together. And then there were the quiet, deep moments; when silence spoke more than words, and they found comfort just in being close, in the simple act of not being alone.

It was everything, all tangled together, and it made it so easy, too damn easy, to fall in love with him. She knew she shouldn’t, but with Bucky, it felt inevitable.

Then, one in those blissful days, after another night of incredible sex, Bucky laid beside her, his chest still heavy with the aftermath of their intimacy. His eyes traced the soft curves of her form as she rested, her skin glowing in the dim light.

She looked almost ethereal; untouchable, like something too perfect for him. The weight of her presence next to him was both comforting and painful, tightening his chest with a longing he couldn’t name. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat, his voice rough when he finally spoke, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I’m going back to Elena,” he confessed, the statement hanging heavily in the air.

For a moment, there was something in his eyes; a flicker of hesitation, of conflict, as if he desperately wanted to hold onto what they had, as if saying the words was a battle he was losing with every breath.

But whatever war raged within him never fully translated in the way she saw him. To Y/N, his words felt resolute, laced with a kind of tenderness that made it hurt even more. He seemed sorry; deeply, genuinely. But the weight of his decision pressed down between them, undeniable.

She went still for a moment and he could feel the tension radiating from her. The way her body seemed to freeze, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t respond at first, her gaze distant, focusing somewhere far away as though she needed a moment to process. Bucky’s chest felt heavy with the weight of his own words, the urge to take them back gnawing at him.

Yet he kept his expression neutral, as if none of this hurt him. He needed to see this through, even if every second felt like he was tearing himself apart. “This…being here with you, touching you like this… this will be the last time,” he added, the sound of his voice was low but remained adamant.

Y/N had always known, somewhere deep down, that this day would come. They had both agreed that what they had was casual, temporary, nothing more than a passing thing. They had agreed their connection was fleeting; simply a series of borrowed moments. But even as she tried to convince herself it was fine, she knew better.

Nothing about what they shared was truly casual. They’d been there for each other in ways no one else had. When the world had been cruel to him, scrutinising him for his past as the Winter Soldier, she’d been his quiet strength, the one who never judged him, never flinched. And when her own demons resurfaced, casting shadows over her life; he’d been the one there, standing between her and her doom. He had been her rock, just as she had been his.

They were each other's strength, each other's solace.

'Has it ever really been casual?' But she couldn’t voice those thoughts. She wouldn’t burden him with her feelings when he already carried so much of his own. She wouldn’t beg for more than he could offer.

With a soft breath, she forced herself to smile, her fingers brushing over his cheek, committing every moment to memory before it slipped away. “Will this make you happy?” she asked, her voice steady, though pain lingered beneath the surface.

Bucky’s heart twisted, but he nodded, the lie coming too easily. “Yes,” he said, his voice lacking conviction even as he tried to seem sure. He averted his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see past the facade.

Her smile wavered, but she fought to hold it in place. She wanted to show him that she was fine, that she wasn’t falling apart. But as she pressed her smile into place, a single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but it was already there; a silent confession of the pain he couldn’t see.

“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” she whispered, barely audible.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. And then she kissed him; softly, deeply, as if it would be their last.

Because, in this moment, it felt like it was.

The days blurred into weeks, and then months, each one dragging by with a dull ache that Y/N couldn’t shake. She buried herself in work, refusing to let her mind linger on what she’d lost. When that wasn't enough, she picked up freelance gigs; anything that kept her mind too occupied even thought about pain and the aching emptiness Bucky’s absence had left behind.

It was easier that way; easier to drown in deadlines and endless to-do lists than to confront the hollowness. And through all this time, there were not a single call, or texts from Bucky. Just silence. Rationally, she knew it was for the best. He was a hero, after all; his life pulled him in a thousand different directions. And she told herself she was fine.

But late at night, when the world grew quiet, she could still feel it; the loss that crept into her bones and refused to let go. Most of the time, she'd catch herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were his whole world, even if just for a moment. She tried to shake it off, to convince herself that it was all just an illusion, but the hole in her chest ached too deeply to ignore.

Time passed. The headlines told of his deeds; how he saved countless lives, how the public finally began to accept him, to see him not just as a relic of violence and pain, but as a hero. She should’ve felt proud. Maybe, on some level, she did. But every article, every broadcast, every mention of him only twisted the knife deeper.

At times, she’d pause whatever she was doing when his name flashed across the screen. It was a reflex, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach for something she could never have. She’d feel her chest tighten, her emotions were a blend of pride and pain. Why did she feel like this, like she wasn’t needed, like she was somehow unwanted by the man who had once looked at her like she was everything?

Even then, she couldn’t help but feel proud. No matter how much it hurts, she was happy for him. She remembered the sleepless nights when his past came alive in nightmares; when he’d thrash and murmur apologies with a voice cracked by guilt. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms as he clung to her in the dark, his breath shuddering against her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” The memory of it made her chest ache; the rawness of his pain had always cut her deep, but it had also made her want to be his safe place, his haven.

She thought of those nights often. The way he’d hold her as if she were a shield against the ghosts that hunted him, how he’d bury his face in her shoulder to block out the world’s judgement. She’d whispered reassurances, stroked his hair, and wished she could take away every ounce of his pain. Seeing him now, standing tall, saving lives, and slowly being accepted by the world; it filled her with a bittersweet pride.

He deserved every bit of recognition, every chance to rebuild himself.

But the cost of that pride was the deep loneliness that came with it; the reminder that he was out there saving the world while she was left to save herself from missing him. She wanted to be enough, to be the one he leaned on, but it was clear now that his path led somewhere she couldn’t follow. So she pushed forward, forced herself to be strong, and told herself that being happy for him was enough.

When the crowd at the Central Park continued to roar with excitement, time seemed like it stopped for Bucky and Y/N. And then they were standing in front of one another again, the air between them held a weight, as if every word left unspoken all those nights was pressing against the space between them. Bucky’s eyes flickered; momentarily shocked, yet he didn’t falter.

Even then, Y/N saw it. She saw the look in his eyes that she knew too well, the look he had when it was just them, wrapped up in stolen hours that no one knew about. She forced a smile, warm and soft, the very same that she used to give him in those silent times, when their skins were pressed against each other, and everything else didn't matter.

His heart ached with a need he thought he’d buried. He thought he had let her go. He kept telling himself he was not in love, that she was just someone to keep his bed warm, to fill the empty space his past had left behind. At least, that was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra meant to dull the edges of the truth.

But deep down, he knew it was a lie; a desperate deception crafted to shield him from the vulnerability clawing at his walls. He was not fooling anyone, not himself at least. Each night he spent denying the way his pulse quickened at the thought of her touch, each time he claimed he felt nothing, the thin layer of defence cracked beneath the weight of untold longing. It was easier to lie, to pretend he didn’t care, than to face the reality that she had carved her place inside him, far deeper than he wanted to admit.

Now, seeing her again, smiling at him as if it didn't shatter her heart when he left, it was like he’d been hollowed out.

And the time that seemingly stopped, abruptly resumed to its pace when they walked past each other. No words crossed their lips, but their eyes spoke a language that was theirs alone; a language that carried echoes of every touch, every laugh, every shared moment.

‘I miss you,’ their gazes whispered, even as the distance between them widened with each step.

They kept walking.

That night, Bucky found himself in front of her apartment. When she opened the door, it was as if she was expecting someone. Not him, but someone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there, broad shoulders taut and expression unreadable.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The sight of her; dressed in a fitted dress that draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every line and curve, stole the air from his lungs. It was the kind of dress she used to wear when they’d go out on a date, the kind that never failed to send his thoughts swirling in the gutter. No thoughts, just lust.

She looked stunning. Ethereal even. But, painfully out of reach.

Y/N blinked. Shock, confusion, and hurt flashing in her eyes, as if the memories of what they’d had; and how it ended, came crashing back all at once. “Hey… James. What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tight and Bucky was never used to it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to her lips and lingering there longer than he intended. “Out for a date?” he murmured, evading her question, the words tasting like lead.

“Yeah…Kind of.” she replied, guarded. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low rasp. “Can I come in?”

She studied him warily, the hurt in her eyes morphing into something sharper. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, James.”

“Please,” he said, and the desperation in his tone softened her resolve just enough. She stepped aside reluctantly. “You gotta be quick,” she said, almost dismissively. “Josh is on the way.”

The mention of another man’s name was like a knife twisting in his chest. Bucky forced himself to stay still, to not let his expression betray him, but inside, he felt raw, the bitterness coiling deep.

Once inside, she crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier between them. “Talk,” she said flatly.

He paced, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t real,” he started, voice thick. “Me and Elena getting back together; it was a mission. She was suspected of being a mole.” he paused as he studied her reaction, ” We couldn’t risk telling you. We had to make it look real. ”

She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to grasp the whirlwind of his sudden appearance. “You’re here for that? To explain yourself?” There was incredulity in her voice, mingled with raw, exhausted pain that came from reopening old wounds.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice was firm but edged with something close to desperation. “We managed to capture her.” He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “We had to keep the mission under wraps, Y/N. We couldn’t risk word getting out… not after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. We couldn’t have another Hydra situation, or anything that even looked like it.”

He paused, the tension in his jaw tightening. “It turns out her plan was to isolate me. To make me even more vulnerable than I already am, before they…” His words faltered, heavy and incomplete, as if finishing the sentence would make it all too real.

But he didn’t need to say more. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the realisation clear in her expression. She was smart; too smart not to piece it together. She knew what Bucky feared most. He’d be dragged back into Hydra’s grasp, or worse, used as a pawn by some other twisted organisation.

It was a fate too cruel to name, and he could see in her eyes that she already understood.

Her brow furrowed, processing everything Bucky had explained thus far. A mixture of confusion and anger flitting across her features. “So that was it?” she demanded. “I was just collateral damage?”

“No,” he said quickly, the word breaking from him like a plea. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to protect you. We all did.” He hesitated, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I did.”

She scoffed, a bitter edge cutting through her words. “Unbelievable. I smiled at you one time, James—one time—and you think you can just come back into my life like you own it?”

The accusation hung between them, and the depth of her frustration was like a dam bursting. He recoiled slightly, horrified by the thought that he’d hurt her so deeply. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want to just—”

She cut him off with a sharp, biting word. “Bullshit!” The accusation hit him like a physical blow, but he pressed on, desperation bleeding into his tone. “I just wanted to tell you the truth,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. “That it was all fake.”

“Fake?” She echoed the word with a harsh, bitter laugh that rang with disbelief. It stung him, sharp as a slap across the face. “It looked pretty damn real to me, James. You don’t think I saw the pictures? The headlines? How you were with her?”

“It was a cover, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice.”

Her eyes flashed, anger and betrayal burning bright. She took a step toward him, as if the weight of her hurt couldn’t be contained. “You didn’t have a choice? You had a choice when you came to me, when you told me it was over. When you ripped my heart out, did you have a choice then?”

Bucky flinched, the impact of her words like a physical blow, but he held his ground. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By hurting me?” Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. “By tearing me apart?”

Silence crashed over them, heavy and suffocating. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged. “By leaving me behind?” she whispered, her words dripping with the weight of every unspoken wound. “By pretending like what we had meant nothing?”

He stepped closer, the space between them suffocating and electric. “It wasn’t nothing,” he said, his voice quivering. “It was everything. You were everything.”

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I don’t believe you.”

With a trembling hand, Bucky reached for her face, cupping her cheeks as though she were something fragile. His thumb brushed away her tears, his touch reverent, aching. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, the confession breaking through the dam of his restraint. “From the start, when we laughed about that ridiculous introduction; me, calling myself the Winter Soldier and you insisting I was an Avenger—I knew it then.”

He swallowed hard, blinking through tears. “But it wasn’t just that. It was how you saw me; not the killer, not the broken man, but me. The way you’d smile at me, like I was worth something. The nights you stayed awake, holding me when I couldn’t breathe, when the nightmares felt too real. The way you’d whisper that I wasn’t alone. No one ever did that for me. No one.”

He paused, the rawness in his expression deepening. “I knew it was too late when I realized I’d been in love with you for a while. It hit me that day at Sally’s, remember?” His voice grew softer, distant with memory. “It was spring. You wore that sundress you bragged about getting for next to nothing at a thrift store. The sunlight made your hair glow, and you laughed at something ridiculous; a dog chasing bubbles, I think. I couldn’t stop looking at you. It wasn’t just the dress or the moment. It was the way you made everything feel… lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like the past didn’t own me.”

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing along her jawline. “I realized then that I was in deep. That it was more than just a moment. And it terrified me, because I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin you.” His voice cracked, weighted with a mix of love and regret.

His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, the tears spilling over. “It’s the way you laugh, the way you fight for everyone you care about. How you make me feel like I’m more than my past… God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Even if it meant pushing you away. But it killed me, Y/N. Every day.”

She stared at him, stunned and raw, her own tears falling. His hands cradled her face gently, his touch trembling. “I love you,” he said again, more desperately. “I love you for every moment you gave me hope when I thought I couldn’t be saved. I love you for being there, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

He leaned in, their faces inches apart, his tears mixing with hers as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, feeling the sincerity in every broken syllable. For a heartbeat, it seemed she would turn away. But then, her voice cracked, trembling with everything she’d buried. “I love you too,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I never stopped.”

His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling, raw and vulnerable. Slowly, their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that spoke of everything they had denied and everything they still longed for. In each other’s touch, everything else faded, leaving only the truth between them.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i was planning to do a descriptive smut scene at first, but after piecing everything from my draft and re-reading the overall flow, i don't think it's suitable to include it in this. perhaps another time, a side/extra story maybe. i hope y'all okay with that and enjoy your reading 🥺

#bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader smut #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #avenger!bucky

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novella-november · 4 months ago

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Here's a WIP list of my ideas for a full year of monthly writing events!

If you have any suggestions *please* feel free to send them in :D

Not everyone has free time to do a full 30k in November in particular, and the key of learning to write consistently...... is consistency!

Writing in earnest for just one month out of the year doesn't give you much practice, does it?

But 30k every single month can be exhausting an daunting!

So, here's my WIP proposal....

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January [15k total / 500 each day]-- Public Domain-Day Dash -- On January 1st, pick a brand-new Public Domain work, read/study it for a week while brain storming, then spend the next three weeks writing 5k words to make by the end of the month a 15k word short story, adapting that PD Work into another genre / time period / etc. February [20k total / ~714 Each day ] -- Freedom February -- Black History Month. Each week, write 5,000 words each week celebrating freedom from tyranny in all its forms. March [9,300 total / 300 each day] -- Spring Equinox -- Each day, write 300 words based on the concepts of warmth, renewal, rebirth, changing of the guard, etc. April [8k total / ~285 per day] -- April Fools -- Each week, write 2k words of a comedy short story, to end the month with 8k words of comedy. May [6,200k total / 200 each day] -- International Workers Celebration -- Each day, write 200 words about a character in your line of work (or a nonfiction diary/article) and what you enjoy about it and how it keeps the world turning, or saving the world in some emergency, then take some time to relax, you've earned it! June [15k total / 500 each day] -- Pride Month -- write 500 words each day, either fictional or nonfictional, about queer history, pride, solidarity, or intersectionality. July [15.5k words total / 500 each day] -- Disability Pride Month -- Each day, write 500 words about your favorite genre, from the perspective of a disabled character (or a character with your own disabilities), and what kind of accommodations they use in their daily lives, without magically erasing their disability. August [15.5k words total / 500 each day]-- Alien August -- Aliens have invaded! Pick your favorite genre, and each day, write 500 words of that genre, with a plot that gets interrupted by an alien visitation! September [60-100 Pages / 2-3 each day] -- Scripting September -- Each day, write 2-3 script pages for an audio-drama, stage-play, or movie/tv show, to end the month with a 60 to 100 page script. October [20k total / 714 each day] -- Ominous October -- A choice of themes will be decided on before October, two options for each week, and everyone will write a 5k word short horror/spooky story each week, that all get posted on October 31st / Halloween

November -- Novella November [30k total / 1k each day]-- Write 1k words a day to reach 30k words by the end of the month. You can write a 30k word novella, use it as the start of a larger novel, write a series of short stories (such as writing a 7.5k word short story per week), etc. [30k total / 1k each day] December -- Don't Touch It December [6,200k total / 200 each day] -- this is your month of relaxation! Write just 200 words per day about anything you enjoyed / are proud of from the past year, and what you are looking forward to in the future! [6,200k total / 200 each day]

If you prefer to focus on just the longer challenges and spend the other months editing, we can also have mirror events each month for different ways of editing with community support!

Things like Beta reader swaps, doing cover mockups, localization help for those not writing in their first language, etc!

#bold text #writing events #community events #writing #anti ai #nanowrimo #<- for reach

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fumifooms · 11 months ago

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Laios Touden and autism; admiring the non-human

Do you think people exaggerate when they scream about Laios being autistic? Do you feel like it’s weird that so many people including autistics are so set on Laios, the problematic (but incredible and kind) king TM, being the most autistic that has ever autisticed? Why do we cheer on autistic people wanting to be monsters?? Isn’t that weird?

Well, of course it depends on the way it’s done, it can be done quite offensively, but long story short Kui blew it out of the park. The thing is, autistic people really do like monsters and animals and robots. Nonhuman does not mean subhuman, it just means Other. Feeling a connection with them has been shown to be an extremely common autistic experience for that very reason.

Because some people don’t understand why we autistic Tumblr Laios stans cheer “autism! Autism!” whenever he talks about monsters and feeling alienated to humans so! Here’s a post about how yes even research papers are analyzing the special connection we form with animals. I’m not even joking but Laios Touden & the mass cries of relatability with autistic people he gets and all the love for him could be used as study material and evidence for future papers because the link is that strong. Oh also I think it’s notable that being autistic and undiagnosed vs diagnosed makes a huge difference. In my experience as someone who was undiagnosed up until 18, it’s even more alienating to not know that there’s a reason why you’re different, being gaslit that you’re ‘normal’ and you just need to try harder and get with the program, etc. Personally when getting diagnosed I went through the 5 stages of grief because the thought of having been fundamentally different all your life (a difference which you will never be able to change) and mistreated for it when you weren’t “wrong” all along makes you unload all the anger and sadness and loneliness and sheer trauma you’ve built up over time. Like it’s world shattering.

So! Back to seeing dogs as family. Also I implore you to value experiential evidence when it comes to autism and other neurodivergences because brains are complicated and neurotypicals not being able to understand us well even with scientific research is like, a whole thing even though we’re right there speaking about how we feel and being right every time because the topic is literally us and how we experience the world.

Disclaimer for this whole post that, of course, no group is a monolith and everyone has different experiences or can diverge from the norm of the group, and that doesn’t diminish the validity of either side! Like, I know autistic people who have trauma with dogs and hate them. But, trends do happen, and in this case... Autism is very “My experiences with humans make me feel dehumanized in a bad and lonely way so instead I’ll dehumanize myself in a good and inspiring way”.

“I was treated like a failed human my entire life and you’re surprised that my response was to become a dog.” -Patricia Taxxon

It’s literally well recorded that autistic people relate to animals more than humans globally. With this post, besides spreading autistic Laios truthism and explaining why the portrayal hits so deep for so many, I want to show in what way this is a very specific experience and not looking at his character through an autistic lense really misses a lot of why he’s everything that he is. (Tacking allegedly onto here for legal reasons, different interpretations are valid etc etc /gen). This honestly isn’t super long though.

To define an important term, anthropomorphism in the studies and in this post means to attribute human traits to the nonhuman, which not only includes anthro furry designs but also animals irl, inanimate objects, and animated media as opposed to live action, to humanize them and empathize with them.

Paper: https://www.liebertpub.com/doi/10.1089/aut.2019.0027

“Dogs taught me how to hunt and socialize and work in groups”, Laios having internalized body language... So real so real. I, too, make a great dog impression. And I want to emphase the part that it helps greatly develop a sense of emotions and relationships! For Laios, he didn’t get along with kids his age, it was him, Falin and the dogs against the world. Since it’s a group of dogs too, it taught him group dynamics and social hierarchies (like with Falin being considered as being below the dogs in authority according to the dogs rip), and the importance of group coordination when hunting.

For me, I cannot like, concisely explain just how much animals were important to me developmentally. I also grew up with dogs, but like I vividly remember encounters with like hamsters as well just radically shaping my understanding of boundaries, the importance of giving something space and the way you interact with them and respect their side of it. Unlike humans they don’t really mask how they feel, it’s direct cause-effect reaction and data gathering. There are no words involved, so the focus on having a perfect phrasing and tone is gone, leaving just pure interactions.

There’s also no reason to mask how you feel either, and you don’t have to feel silly over wanting to form a connection and it showing, what, is the dog gonna laugh at you because you obviously want to make friends with it? Toshiro or Kabru might, but dogs and cats will just tell you to fuck off and leave it there worst case scenario. I often say that I think one reason Marcille is special to Laios and he feels comfortable around her is because she emotes INTENSELY, she gestures, she puts her whole body into it, her facial expressions are pretty exaggerated and her ears even emote too- like with a dog’s ears!

I think there’s def also things to be said about how he gravitated towards Izutsumi at first, all excited, was eager to sleep in the same bed as her, but in the Izutsumi sleep rating chart we see they really just casual and chill so it’s not a Laios talking to Shuro deep into the night situation just a “I like sleeping besides animals” situation and that is enough to hype him up. I love how he pet her in the extra about why Chil let her sleep with him too. He’s just so transparently eager to befriend her, even if in the end they weren’t all that compatible and he accepted that.

There are honestly so many examples I could give for this. Like Grandin the famous cow lady.

More about autism & empathy:

https://www.spectrumnews.org/news/double-empathy-explained/ (Also mentions a study in which groups of autistic, allistic then a mixed group played a game of telephone and both singular groups had similar levels of information retention, but the mixed group was significantly worse. As an autistic person yeah duh, obviously autistic people are different from one another and can have plenty of interpersonal issues, but communicating with other neurodivergent people feels pretty intuitive and straightforward and comfortable. One of the reasons why neurodivergent people tend to naturally gravitate towards each other I suppose.)

^ Paper: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5932358/ For good, extensive summary of why we relate to animals so much you can go to the “anthromorphizing and asd” section of the paper. This paper extends to our widespread liking of cartoons and robots as well. Ok so this is a whole thing I won’t get into here but this is a big reason why a lot of autistic people are agender leaning as well. Genders and queerness in general is a lot about social constructs, and being queer is being marginal to these, not fitting into boxes or challenging those social norms and conventions. Queerplatonic relationships are a great example of this, where the framework of the relationship is platonic but the intangible nature of what it is exactly is the point, not familial not anything but everything at once too, just adoration, I like to say having pets is a bit like it as well, bc obvi it’s not romantic and often not fully familial, very platonic but also sooo much cuddling and adoration and kissing and whatnot that you wouldn’t typically do with a friend or family member. I’ll talk about qpr and labels another day though.

I got carried away but queerness in Dunmeshi is something I 100% want to make a big post on one day. Experiencing the world with different guidelines and not registering things to have the same boxes, sigh. Personally I also relate to Laios on a gender level, “cis by default because I don’t care all that much but if I were to dig deeper I’m probably otherkin and I want to be socially associated with traits of monsters and animalistic rather than man/woman” sighh hard to be a cryptid in this day and age. I wish we had a term like furry but for monsters, I want to be in the fantasy or folk tale genre ty, like changelings. Goshh changelings... You know, the irl myth where people said their neurodivergent kids were fairies’ children instead of human. Diminished physical sense of self means I see myself as some unknowable black void aesthetic wise, but like in a way that simultaneously makes me feel seen. Like becoming a monster, losing your sense of self but also somehow just being simplified and seen for what you are, it’s weird to try and explain. This post is more about relating to the nonhuman than about seeing yourself as such, but like connect the dots right, that IS an important point of Laios’ character. It’s because our brains literally work different than allistics which makes us feel as other, but also because of social ostracization and functioning in a different way than society at large, living in the margin of society, being weird and non-conforming.

Meanwhile, animals and social norms... Like ok, showing your neck and rolling on the ground to show that you’re friendly and harmless and play biting might not be proper. But have you considered that it’s also fun and feels very intuitive. Play with a dog in the dog’s way I promise it is so nice and freeing. Play tug of war and growl back when they growl. Hiss at your cat to tell them they do something wrong, engage with them on their level.

Autism made social life hard, but it made animals easy. Do you have anyyy idea how good it feels to mask all day every day and feel constantly misunderstood or like you’re doing a performance but then you can just, drop all of that in the company of animals and they understand you. They understand you. You form an understanding and rapport so easily.

And this whole thing with Laios is so explicit too, with the Winged Lion saying “You’re sick and tired of the human world”. Notice the choice of words. Sick and tired of the human world. Exhausted from the constraints, sick of the mind games. It really isn’t as much about loving monsters as it is about loving the nonhuman. Relating to them because you feel that you can actually understand how they work and think, and feeling like they could understand you back as well. Animals are safe.

Like I could go on about how Laios admiring even just demi-humans like orcs is because they’re socially seen as non-humans more than any true physical thing, that they’re not bound by human society and its rules and live with their own lifestyle. But it would deal myself 1000 points of psychic damage and I am not ready to cry today. It’s idealization 100%, and like, Laios DOES want to be treated as human, to be valued, but it feels like an unreachable thing meanwhile becoming a monster is instant gratification and freedom and a sense that now no one will be able to hurt you in a way that reaches you, never again shall you be defenseless, and then if people dehumanize you then that only strengthens your sense of identity as a monster and UGHH ugh ugh.

And like. This post is a mess at this point but if you want to kinda delve into the more “why” then I recommend this Patricia Taxxon video essay. It starts out on a very different topic, but it’s all about autism and finding comfort in the inhuman. Long story short is othering made us like this also animals are just simpler to intuitively get along with.

So when I post this

I mean it. I really mean it when I say he’s me. I have never felt so seen. So many conflicting emotions all wrapped so concisely yet so intangibly woven into the whole storyline so subtly.

Not being depicted as a monster of an human being for feeling/having felt that way?? The manga understands you. The world can understand you. Other humans can understand you. You can bond with them. You can. And I think that’s a big part of Dungeon Meshi too- Laios opening up to others about how he really is and his interests, and all the bumps on the way but how it was the only way to truly get to know each other and bond. With the climax being Laios confronting head on his complex with monsters and humans, and his monster-loving side and animalistic side being exactly what saves the whole world, what saves humanity. Because Laios does value his friends, does think humanity has beautiful sides to it, he wants to help it thrive and eat and become more accepting, carving out a kingdom for misfits and demi-humans. At the end of it, transforming into a monster and being free is a daydream fantasy, and the reality of it is that Laios does belong in the world as he is, and does receive and give out love.

If you enjoyed this you’ll probably like some of my other Laios analysis! Here’s an analysis of his succubus and what it says about his relationships with other humans. And here’s an analysis about his relationship with Shuro from his perspective.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #character analysis #i guess #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #spoilers #autistic laios touden #asd #autism representation #meta #draft so old it uses the old Tumblr post editor #it would be much better if i could put them side to side rip #i also wanna do an analysis trying to pin down his level of social awareness #i love that the monster story epic saga about misfits and your place in the world on an ecosystem level is just sooo autistic so perfect #this post has a weird structure but hopefully it can showcase some things and make ppl understand and others relate! I know we're out there #hiii therians how we feeling today. Brain chemistry is weird but ours is just wired different not broken #feeling self-conscious bc even with studies this is the equivalent of going 'trust me bro I get it' which usually doesn't go well with us #Humanity is beautiful <3333 Humans are social animals broski love yourself!!!

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b1asho · 2 months ago

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Muttreazik fullbody! Last but certainly not least!!

The universe's most complex genetic manipulation, done by a little parasitic worm things!! Debatable on if they look like worms but I think it’s funny to call them that.

Pretty much all new info about them I put into the image or am not sharing on purpose (but fun fact, they have pretty strong evidence that within their own species an afterlife/higher dimension, god, and reincarnation are real) they're by far my least sci aliens, but I put whatever I want into my wretched project and I want some more fi in there.

So heres the abominable text clump:

Muttreazik are an endo-parasitic, possibly artificial species that specializes in completely replacing the brain and subsequently altering the body of their host.

They are also commonly known as chimera, since the name they call themselves is actually painful to hear to other sapients ( "muttreazik" is just an anglicized version of it, referring to the short burst of intense hums buzzes and clicks that make up the word.) Their natural way of communication is actually beaming information to eachother via these waves right into the brain eyeball, since that crystal thing they have is unbothered by that.

By most standards, their ‘true’ bodies are not technically considered alive, and are made up of a crystalline chamber that houses their consciousness and multiple tendril-like limbs used for interfacing with the meaty nerves of the body they built to pilot (using electricity generated in the crystalline matrix)

They also have some other structures to give and receive other resources, as well as more specialized structures for vision and vocalization (though their body also tends to retain the vocal cords in whatever state they’d be in considering the hosts biology and some meaty bits of their eyes for lubrication and structural support. For the most part though, you’re looking at a part of the little crystal slug thing when you’re looking at their eyes, and you can often tell if there’s anything extra weird going on with them by how brightly colored their eyes are, since this translates to stuff going on in their brain case.

This " weird" scale follows the idea of the visible color spectrum, with increasing frequency going from red to orange to yellow, with green, blue, and purple being Extremely weird. Even species that aren’t able to see colors on this spectrum can perceive this 'color', which is very disorienting and unnerving).

The process of taking and building a body is a part of their life cycle, beginning when their spores attach to a developing fetus.

The two merge, and the muttreazik part begins growing the body around it using its own manufactured hormones and codes.

This can happen with sentient species or with animals, since their spores will attach to anything living, and muttreazik born from animals will typically share that level of intelligence alongside their body shape. There are exceptions, though, with animal-born Muttreazik having similar consciousness scale to a sentient species from the planet whose biology they’re borrowing.

The reverse is not true, however, with every muttreazik born from a sentient species having the same spectrum of intelligence as that species (though they might look a bit more animal like by coincidence ).

When in this stage within the host, anything the host sees, eats, or otherwise interacts with is fair game for the developing muttreazik to use in building the body (though they aren’t really conscious at this age, these things just imprint on them as raw information. Depending on the individual, they can process and utilize this information to have more complex features than the base host blueprint they’re already working with. Some can even use past information they already know...? More on that later in their life cycle ).

Most of their life is spent out of the host in their new body. Since they don’t reproduce sexually, their bodies reflect that, and any primary or secondary sexual characteristics they have are by coincidence (basicslly from just "copy pasting" the the host's genetic blueprint)

When they die, they will seek out populated areas to die in. Within a day after death, they will release more spores to attach to natural organisms and begin the process again.

While not scientifically proven (by an outside source)+, muttreazik culture holds that they also release their consciousness at death, which returns to a higher plane where they ‘truly come from’.

Those with this belief also see their body as an attempt to attain the form they hold in this plane. It is debated whether this is true, though it would explain why some muttreazik have vastly more complicated alterations than others, supposedly from this better "grasp" on biology (being their mind’s third or fourth go around with a host species despite how their spores start over) and also why some have otherwise inexplicable characteristics, knowledge, and fears (possibly from when they lived and died last) and why some have abilities that don’t follow the rules of conventional reality (such as complex manipulation of biology and in some cases external matter, which many have theorized comes from their brains connection to their home plane).

As a newly discovered species that until contact had not nearly progressed as far technologically (who's to tell, though, the Imperial colony operation blasted a lot of stuff off the face of the planet when hitting it with meteors to seed water), they are in a complicated and unbalanced relationship with the species that crashed on the same planet and "uplifted" them and who they depend/prey on for existence.

Neither party agreed to the muttreazik's existence; the spore is not sentient and the host didnt agree to carrying something that wont be like them.

It puts them in a precarious situation, though, because they depend a LOT more on the others for both existence and permission to exist.

Without the body, they would be unable to move around or really exist as the active, aware, and conscious beings that they could be.

This has lead to major controversy due to their parasitic nature, since the sentient beings that become their hosts don’t usually take kindly to "their kid being replaced by a freaky critter", and they also make the laws around here.

Currently, each of the world’s major nations have slightly different approaches to dealing with them. Generally, in the Democratic Republic of the Solar System (DRSS) and the Geak Federation, it is illegal to allow a muttreazik to develop naturally.

Modernly, once they’re detected the muttreazik clump is removed and transferred to a tank/other facility where it is artificially grown, leading to typically safer outcomes for both the muttreazik and the host. Natural births obviously have risks associated with the altered anatomy, though the muttreazik will stay within the size limits of the host (example, a centaur lookin Muttreazik born naturally from a human would have been born with an extremely delicate tiny horse half, and instead experienced growth into a normal size afterwards as coded by the muttreazik, though this still comes with its own list of health issues for them) the tank environment controls the amount and what kind of stimuli they’re exposed to, and has more space and less risk factor (for the host) leading to fewer and less extreme alterations.

the categorization chart pictured is used to rate and monitor their development, anything under a c is very undesirable but unless the fetus thing is rapidly approaching an F then they can’t really do much physical intervention, so to speak, (mostly for legal reasons, because the government (and more frequently private lab operations) have pretty much put themselves in charge of another species’ existence and its a bad look if they try and control their reproductive rights, no matter how weird and gross that reproduction is).

Still, the muttreazik is born the way it is into a world that has already put them into a category that will decide their rights and the trajectory if their life in general. Strays are any muttreazik born outside a tank, and thus can exhibit c or lower congruency traits (either at birth or as they grow.)

If you’re a host, you have to have the muttreazik clump removed to continue the rest of its development in a special growth tank/other facility.

This is basically free thanks to government funding, and comes with some economic incentive for the parents to encourage it.

Theres also several available programs to help support them raising a Muttreazik child (since it is more common and encouraged for them to just keep them,)

This helps reduce the risk of birth complications (due to their often weird biology) and also for “quality of life assurance” for the muttreazik since within the tank environment their growth is more controlled and monitored (specifically by controlling their diet/what biological matter and other stimuli theyre exposed to)

. This usually prevents them from being born with traits that make it much harder for them to function in human society, such as a major size difference or lack of proper limbs as the host.

These “congruency” laws are very aribitrary and difficult to navigate, but no matter whay there are pretty weighty consequences to an illegal natural birth. The categorization (specifically the congruency scale) is kind of intended to be a sort of annoying, arbitrary thing (where you kind of “eyeball it”. For example, facial resemblance to the host can get you a higher score than your body would suggest, or a very close resemblance to the hosts body despite your head, etc. or vice versa)

Higher scores mean less restrictions, since you’re basically just like everyone else. But, say, if you were an Alius D because of your large, animal-like body structure and facial appearance, you’d be obligated to tell, say, the job or college you’re applying to that to let them make an ‘informed decision’ on whether you’d be a good fit, and you may even be barred from some areas not built to deal with you. Even worse, let’s say you’ve got a mermaid type build (no legs, automatic E or even F) good luck doing anything on land, loser.

A low congruency score coupled with being a mancer means almost guaranteed fear and suspicion responses from most people, who think you’re dangerous and not one of the “thinking ones” (ie a muttreazik born from an animal who thus usually has that same level of intelligence to match their appearance, even though their brain size loophole often means they’re way more intelligent than their animal parent). You get the picture.

They also have organizations associated with animal shelters and those that free roam to identify and collect muttreazik in animals to prevent them from dying somewhere and spreading more spores.

strays tend to have more noticeably irregular or unique traits, and also trend to look less like their host in the ways that the Rep focuses on (specifically the face).

There are programs to house/educate strays that were given up for these differences and for tank borns whose families didn’t want them (“kept or cast” is a term for the relationship status between a muttreazik and their host parent. )

The more implicit purpose behind this law is to also keep tabs on the muttreazik within their borders (as I briefly mentioned before, some them are just uh telekinetic and that ranges from being able to move a coin or a candle flame to throwing a truck or causing explosions.)

As you could imagine, the government doesn’t really want too many of those around).

In general, the view on them trends very negative, and it is seen as a major misfortune to become a host. However, they are tolerated for their uses in the workforce/contributors to society and for aforementioned telekinesis(and ability to shelter those heading into the wreck, since whatever they do counters RUU).

Things are a bit different in the Seru Empire, though the tank thing is the same.

Information is limited but they likely practice a lot more experimentation and culling due to Cerest cultural standards. Muttreazik are also all mandated to their own living spaces away from the host parents and often sent to the military. They are almost always along the lower castes, with their version of a caste tattoo being a collar.

Muttreazik come in many shapes and sizes, with every individual being more or less unique.

The only thing they all have in common is the previously mentioned secondary vocalization method (via a part of their brain body that extends to the throat and can be vibrated separately or alongside the normal vocal cords) and an extra “eye” feature they use to see other Muttreazik's signals and pretty much ever wave out there, no one really knows. It’s really sensitive though.

Pretty much as a rule, they have features that are a little unnatural to the host. This ranges from just having some distorted biology or strange coloring (hard to distinguish from the norm, the only way to know for sure would be to open that eye thing) to the extremely unnatural and titular “chimera” features that they’re more known for (like extra limbs, strange skin/hair/scale coloration, animal-like traits, and body plans that step into the incorrect and impractical).

The body is nothing without the worm brain, and the worm brain is nothing without the body.

the distinction between the worm and the body even though that’s technically their brain is because it doesn’t act as their whole nervous system (only the central, and then attaches partway through to the meat nerves in order to not have to grow a million tiny filaments they’d have to also grow supports around to keep from disintegrating in the body)

Theres also distinction because part of them thinks about the worm part as their whole body with the brain case being the brain, while also having part of *that* body be the brain for the bigger meat body. Stay with me here.

So they actually tend to see themselves as a pilot rather than an integrated part of the body, though this varies by individual.

Some identify more with their worm body, seeing themselves as a pilot separate from the body, others as being one entity, and some don’t like the idea that ‘they’ are something lurking within the outer body they can see and rather identify with the meat vessel, ignoring the worm part they can still feel in there.

Mancers are one of the biggest mysteries in this universe, since no one knows how or why they can pick up stuff with their mind and even change its structure. The most agreed upon running theory is they’re using “control waves”, which is explained as something something ultrasound something something magnets? but there’s literally no way to get readings on whatever the hell they’re doing so you have to just deal with it ok we’re more worried about them growing inside us.

Solids are the most common matter focus, being the easiest, second is liquids and third is gas (there’s also plasma, exceedingly rare, and a secret 5th and 6th one)

Everyone is born null but as time goes on some can pick up the ability quickly and with greater skill than others. Better understanding of how the world works around them seems to help with this.

But yeah, they're my excuse to draw weird lookin things and I wanted to have at least one other kind of weird unexplainable thing in my setting. Yknow, besides the evil space radiation don't worry I haven't forgotten about that you better belive I'm making a ref for those too.

#ghh my head hurts #muttreazik #yeah these are the weird ones #pushing it on how body horror i can make them without being actual horror #the idea is bad enough but i wanted the parasite angle in there.#alien species #original species #drawing #spec evo #speculative biology #worldbuilding #xenobiology

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applestorms · 2 months ago

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following the very funny take that L just speedran his feelings for light from denial to acceptance over the course of the tennis game alone, i do think that even if L was somehow aware of the fact that his feelings verged on less-platonic he wouldn't necessarily see them as being requited. or alternatively, that if they are, light is too much of a repressed freak to ever get over his own bullshit enough to make it actually happen.

like i said in my own tags, this perhaps is another anime/manga difference to me. to elaborate...

in both cases, i think it starts off mostly the same: L's interest is Piqued when he realizes KIRA might actually be a human person, with the high of that feeling hitting its peak during lind l tailor as his theories are confirmed -> L's feelings about KIRA develop/are further complicated as he starts investigating light specifically. personally, i think he starts getting Interested™ while stalking him through the cameras in their house & seeing how he acts under the mask, realizes his feelings are Developing in a way he didn't expect the more he watches, and is fully in the Annoyance/Denial stage when he's autism staring at him throughout the testing sequence (could still vary) -> he works through/accepts it by the end of the tennis game, like a kind of background process monologue, maybe capping off specifically when light beats him.

following this, it seems natural to me that there would be a period where L furthers his investigation on light as KIRA while simultaneously also kinda trying to figure out how DTF he is. he's already pretty certain about the former point so a lot of this is just checking his work, watching very carefully to see if he can push light into losing his cool again and giving himself away, which has the additional side effect of pushing his newly developed crush to the front of his brain on a regular basis through sheer necessity.

this all comes to a head w/ misa's arrest. again, at some point throughout this time frame i think L starts putting enough pieces of the Light Yagami puzzle together to start figuring out that he's either 1. not interested entirely, or 2. never gonna fucking admit anything truthful about who he actually is, ever, even to himself. perhaps the next planned step of L's approach would be to push light into telling the truth or revealing something genuine about himself period, even outside of the KIRA investigation itself, but this gets fucked up by light's little memory loss/alternation plan.

yotsuba is interesting because it obviously gets to L quite a bit, showing aspects of his character that we don't really see outright before that point. it is well known that L is a filthy little liar, and that he specifically uses his lies as a way of testing light, but i think yotsuba is when he kinda. gives up on that. in a way, light is being fully truthful during yotsuba, it's just that what he believes to be truth has been manipulated beyond what's usually humanly possible. so L gets what he wants but it's a twisted version of it, and still misses the key component that drew him towards light in the first place (KIRA).

he's grumpy, basically. his toys aren't working the way he wanted them to, so he's throwing them at the wall and demanding that they fix themselves again. as i said before, L is simultaneously incredibly alienated from (the rest of/his own) humanity and directs his entire focus on it- he's the world's greatest detective, not out of empathy or sympathy for human suffering, but because people are the most interesting/complex puzzle he's ever come across and the scale of mass murder makes his dick harder than anything else.

in a way, you could see him locking light away in this shitty little constantly watched cell/literally holding him on a handcuff leash at all times as L's attempt to recreate the feelings that started popping up while he was watching light in his house the first time, seeing the seeds of a serial murderer in his little perfect teenager pet. the most notable shift throughout all of this though is the fact that L starts telling the truth- to bring this classic panel back,

he's not bothering with the "ooo sounds like something KIRA would say," shtick now. honestly the only other time someone really gets this blunt about telling light he's KIRA to his face is near:

(think this might be my favorite near panel ever lmfao. finally found it in ch.80 =3=)

point is, L is both pissed and genuinely kind of depressed throughout most of yotsuba, or at the very least has been annoyed into spitefully shucking off all his duties cuz he doesn't wanna play the game anymore. childish, and a sore loser- just like he said.

ANYWAYS. the differences between the anime and the manga, right.

the main way this diverges is that i think L is definitely aware of his feelings in the anime. all of the evidence for this comes down to episode 25- the rain scene, the foot washing, "Have you ever told the truth once in your life?" and so on and so forth. part of this may actually follow the divergences of light's characterization between the anime and manga, but L is almost certainly talking about something that light isn't willing to admit during these scenes and it's motivating a lot of his hardest lines.

again, it's the two cases: either he's morose about the fact that his feelings are unrequited and kicking back as a final fuck you for getting pulled around for so long, or (and personally, i kinda think this is more likely) he is aware of the fact that light does like him back in that way and Supremely salty about the fact that he won't ever act on it. "It will be lonely, won't it," etc. etc. "You're gonna fucking miss me, bitch. You don't have to do this but you're going to tear us apart anyway, and I don't forgive you, never will." light is putting the game above them, and L is fucking mad about it lol.

sidenote: it's interesting that the tennis game itself kind of parallels/foreshadows L losing in this way. as i've said before, in the tags on some fucking post i don't even remember now, light knows throughout the tennis game that winning might add to his KIRA percentage (though it is admittedly still quite vague), but he chooses to go for it anyway. just can't stop himself from winning, even if it goes against him and everything he actually wants... some classic light yagami shit right there.

in the manga this is a lot less clear, specifically because we are lacking these scenes in particular. L's death just happens so goddamn quick in the manga, it rushes up and catches him by surprise basically the second he lets his guard down and stops watching light, so we don't get this same drawn out saltiness as he metaphorically bleeds out. this is not to say it isn't present entirely- much of the above analysis still applies to the manga just as much as the anime, but it is perhaps a lot more subtle to follow by the end.

honestly, that all being said, i think manga L is also a lot more likely to simply never figure his shit out when it comes to light. it's a particularly interesting part of canon to me that both of these interpretations actually seem to work equally well when it comes to L, that he is either fully aware for most of the series about his feelings or entirely unaware and never bothers to reflect or consider it. says something about his character i guess, that he still manages to hide or cloud so many of his internal thoughts that shit like this can be pretty ambiguous and still feel kind of core to his character.

anyways, thanks again to @ai-the-broccoli and that original post for kicking this particular essay off, as well as everyone else who responded for getting my brain rolling this time around :)

#death note #lawlight #astronaut rambles #just a possible approach lol there's obviously a lot of room for interpretations w/ shit like this #:)) ohh light yagami...#l lawliet #i always get so caught up in finding my manga caps that i lose steam midway through an essay like this alskdfjaskldfjk. oops #got through it though yippeee #light yagami

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