#and sometimes we even see that. but that doesn't change the fact that our brains and bodies are working against us

[kobitoshiningneedle]

Wow, this piece is really evocative! Makes my brain cogs spin big time

We see older Phineas here in his AYA outfit, and seeing how much more subdued and jaded (?) he became compared to his kid self. This is one of the points of contention that makes people argue about the episide - Phineas isn't as proactive as he usually is in the episode, doesn't invent anything and at some point even gives up on the idea of getting together with Isabella - but the fanart gives it a whole different context.

As someone who peaked in middle school older Phineas is lowkey relatable, actually. People changes, and sometimes the ideas, hobbies, passions you held dear in your childhood as your strong suits - you just burn out or merely grow out of them. People, especially in their teen years, change and sometimes in retrospect these changes make it harder to appreciate current you compared to more buoyant, more creative younger you.

And I always had suspicious Phineas was going through similar worries in AYA. Also the fact that Isabella wasn't around anymore wasn't helping

"And now our endless summer is finally coming to an end"

This line obliterated me 10 years ago.

This writeup became a bit upsetting I feel, but the gist of it is that while nostalgia is often a really sad thing, you are still you! And this is what this artwork tries to encompass I think

[girlwithbloodyfangs]

 DEAD INTERNET THEORY = 3D

So, we all know that 3D is a direct reflection of your 4D (your mind).Your 3D reality is like social media, where your beliefs determine the algorithm, which means your brain constructs your reality based on your mindset. So, always try to focus on thoughts which are in your favour.

idk, if you guys can relate or not but hope this helps :)

I KNOW 3D ISN'T A REAL AND DIRECT REFLECTION OF MY 4D BUT I STILL END UP LOOKING FOR MY DESIRE IN 3D ?

This is something I was facing a problem in my past but I have a better answer/solution for this.

So recently, I have discovered this theory of "dead internet". example: you saw this video on youtube saying "this world gonna end soon" but that video doesn't make sense , so you choose to add a comment under the video saying "it's not possible, this video is a lie", so you start getting replies agreeing with the video and trying to convince you what have shown in the video is the ultimate truth, you also noticed most of the comments agreeing with the video and those comments that are agreeing with the video is "bots" and not actually commented by real a person. so the internet is trying to convince people and change their thoughts/perspectives/beliefs. 

Mainly we have been convinced from day one, that working hard is necessary otherwise you won't get success but if someone gets success without any effort that person will be labeled as a lucky person. (most basic perspective changing example).

So, what you see on the internet, it's a lie, maybe something might be real. I guess nowadays everyone knows the internet is a damn lie, just used for entertainment purposes, even though we are aware of that fact, we still choose to scroll on social media.

NOW THAT SAME DEAD INTERNET THEORY APPLY ON 3D 

Take 3D as a dead reality (it is actually dead reality, our awareness give life to this reality), We know that everything is just pure consciousness and everything is connected (i have discussed in the last blog, "how consciousness is connected with the manifestation" you can read this might give you more clarity on what i am talking about��)

 so if everything is connected that means what i think is meant to show up in my 3D, the only need is to focus on the favourable thought. Even if you forget for a moment and start focusing on 3D by taking validation from it, Know that what you see in the 3D is not the end result / actually real. Things can change the moment you change your awareness. I have noticed things manifesting so instantly even though I didn't finish my thought. Your intention matters the most and it is what manifests. 3D is dead and nothing without you. So, whenever you start focusing on the 3D. Remember your power that you hold. You are the god of your reality.

Hope this blog helps people who want to make things clear or sometimes we lose track, even myself did it in the past, which is totally fine. I am glad....it will be helpful. Have a nice day....happy manifesting :)

~ keep slaying #girlwithbloodyfangs

[nondualiber]

"act as if you have it" hell no. 💌

i believe that ‘act as if you have it’ is often tied to limiting our behaviour by asking ourselves questions like ‘would i feel/act/do this way if i already had my desire?’ (ex: ‘would i feel sad to see my body in the mirror if i already had my desired body?’) and actually the answer to all those questions is YES because if you decided it, then you already have that desire (in this example, your desired body) and you still feel sad to see it, there is no reason to deny it.

In that sense, thinking ‘as if you already have it’ seems to me to be limiting and a way… manifesting doesn't work like most things we know. feelings (which come from the brain) and actions are 3d things and 3d can NEVER affect manifestation, so they (feelings, actions and loa) are separate things. just like you can eat as much or as little as you want and do as much exercise as you want in 3d and still have your desired body with manifesting, you can do absolutely anything, act in any way, and feel anything in 3d and still have your desire. so when i feel bad i downplay it as far as manifestation is concerned. yes, i feel really bad, yes, i'm having a hard time with such and such, yes, i don't want to persist or keep going with my method, but i have my desire anyway.

another thing -sometimes we believe we aren't manifesting correctly because while we affirm, visualize, or do any other method we don't feel like we have our desire; we aren't convinced or we don't feel happy or fulfilled, blah blah blah. actually, i don't think it means you're doing anything wrong since, i repeat, in the 3d we can feel however we want and our feelings DON'T make the methods we use less effective because, as we all know, the 3d has nothing to do with manifestation.

the way i see it (or better said i choose to see it, since it's the way it works the best with me and makes me feel more relieved about the 'process') is: nothing i do in the 3d can make what i want not come, not even thinking against said want (brain action btw), just because everything i want is already mine - the real me - and it has to come to me. an affirmation i use to remaind me this is 'there's nothing i have to do to archieve it and anything i think, feel or do doesn't change the fact that it's going to reach me'

i still think "in my favour" when i can because it makes me feel good and relieved about the fact that i have it, but when im triggered by the 3d and come back to thinking from the old story - i'll talk about it soon!! - i always know those moments are irrelevant because my desire will forever come my way (because it was always mine) and nothing the ego does can change that. and, if i'm not convinced about what i'm saying, i can always affirm and stand by that ౨ৎ

kisses,

- libertad

[borderlinereminders]

Check the Facts

Sometimes it isn't actually the facts of a situation that are causing our emotions and distress. Sometimes it's our interpretation of the facts. When things happen, sometimes our emotions overtake us and can actually warp of view of other things.

One example is maybe your friend cancelled plans because she was sick. Maybe this causes you to spiral and think "she doesn't care about me! She never hangs out with me!" You may be feeling extremely angry and want to end the friendship as a result. However, your brain may be overlooking that she does hang out with you and there are recent instances of that. Checking the facts can be useful for an emotion you want to change.

What emotion do you want to change?

In our example, this may be the extreme feeling of anger, sadness, betrayal, etc.

What is the event that prompted the emotion?

My friend cancelled our plans!

What are the facts?

When did your friend last hang out with you? You might check the facts and realize she hung out with you last week.

Do your emotions fit the facts?

In this case, the intensity of the sadness and betrayal may not fit the situation given the history of your friend's reliability. Please know I'm not saying your feelings aren't valid. You are very much allowed your feelings, but sometimes being rational with ourselves can help. While it's understandable to feel disappointed, and even sad or angry, the extreme in which you're feeling it is related to your interpretation and not the actual facts.

When checking the facts, there are some methods we can use if we are struggling to do so ourselves especially if we're struggling to answer the question.

Ask others their thoughts on the situation. Sometimes an outside point of view can help us see things more clearly.

Approach the situation from your friend's point of view. If you were the one sick and had to cancel plans, how would you feel? In this case, your friend might have felt guilty about it to start with and it was a really hard decision they made. Maybe because they really don't want to get you sick and they just don't have the energy.

Formulate a New Response

Remind yourself that people have emergencies and things come up, and your friend cancelling on you does not mean they don't care. This might be where you look for methods to help you in the future. Maybe you start keeping a calendar and colour the days when you see her so you have a visual representation. Maybe you keep a screenshot or two of her saying she cares about you so you can remind yourself as needed.

Remember, you aren't a bad person for having your feelings. Whatever those feelings are. Even if they don't "fit the facts." Feelings are not inherently bad. It's what you do with the feelings that matters.

[crying-fantasies]

Size difference

Masterlist

Featuring TFA! Megatron, smut/fluff/angst, if the size difference is the thing then this Megatron is the one, CW: mentions suicide/death, grief (denial), TFA Megatron first form (I prefer that one over the Earth one), mention of deep emotion, infiltration, use of drugs and alcohol, long fic.

“Devotion inspires courage, courage inspires sacrifice, sacrifice inspires death”, or in other words, TF One has destroyed me beyond recognition, putting me in the deepest sadness (and you all are coming with me).

Watching you all overcharged by your ethanol-based liquid is always amusing, sometimes you cry, pleading for your weak planet and your horrendous kind, sometimes you laugh, making fun of all that you tried so hard to keep in one piece, intact, probably shattered once again by your social interactions out of his reach while getting whatever resources he needs to keep his plans afloat; you hate your kind, sometimes with the same fervor Lugnut hates the Autobots or whoever gets on the way for the decepticon cause, and as fast as you consume a bottle you are, once again, trying to squeeze your humorous tiny brain module for reasons to make him spare this black water planet that has only provide him endless annoyance.

“Music!”, your little watery eyes seem to brighten up as he only seems slightly amused by the way you try so hard to make him see the good in humanity, no matter the fact you already know his very much unchangeable point of view, “you guys have music, right?”

If any other decepticon were present more than one would have squashed you by the mere idea that music was something only humans had, “we do”, Megatron doesn't elaborate, he has heard war chants long enough, songs almost lost in the back of his processor, nevertheless, those out of reach memories are better than the awful music turned propaganda of the Autobots.

Since that day, you have tried your best to save your species by what they can give him over what they are, you show him arts, show him chemicals once the topic of food is mentioned.

“You guys only eat energon?”

“We consume it almost raw as our fuel”, at your fallen curiosity, by that shine of yours dying a little bit, Megatron pushes on with nothing more horrible and visceral than the truth, “Only flimsy Autobots had the shanix and riches to add elements or upgrade it”, he only has so much expression to give with his sorry state, but the way your body reflects the sudden realization and sadness is surely telling, “We were given only the scraps of their lowest grade energon, but no more”.

Day by day your view of the Autobots is twisted by him, he likes to say and think that he is only showing you how things were and still are, what once was awe upon the image of the heroes in the news changed to unconscious doubt, day by day Megatron tells you the truth about the Autobots and feels an ounce of glee when you stop looking at the news and just go about your day trying to help him back to his feet; it’s a hassle, sure, but you said it could help him, something to do with his processor, that people talked about their problems, he pushed your head down with one of his digits by the mere idea of putting your people at the same level as him, but he didn't kill you for such transgressions as you wanted to hear more, makes him remember of the days he guided the young and stray into the decepticon cause even when you are a meat bag, you added his teachings with ease and gave your comments once he was finished, long gone seem to be the days you feared him, trembling in your place, now you have the gall to talk to him, you still say “Lord Megatron” when his soldiers are present, but if not, you are brave enough to call directly his designation after poking around the topic, he couldn't care less about your perception of things as humans tend to bond easily as it seems, the push of his digit over your head was perceived by you as an endearment, even affection if he listened well to your little puff of air and laugh when you had time to realize he isn't squishing you right then and there, but what for, you've your use, with what little alchemy you make a mean energon fuel.

“Copper and other things are very common on Earth”, the little metal vase on your hands shakes with the movement, the fear of being in front of several optics is long gone to this point, maybe a little bit of your sanity too because who shakes hardly processed energon with metal inside the same container like that without the fear of it exploding? Not even the craziest decepticon can try that, and if they did then they are long gone, but no, he is presented by hardly a shot of energon in your strange concoction, or two, as you make another for him to try, one tasting better than the other, Megatron is surprised, even amazed, by the difference and the good results showed by his internal computer when the takes the second one, the nutrients on it, “the first one has industrial copper”, you smile, almost understanding, a knowing smile that portrays your human nature just right, “the second one, I bought it from traditional miners in south America, human miners that work with their hands”, by the corner of his optic he can catch Blitzwing fidgeting, maybe his tanks are empty and he wants a taste, or you lied and he isn't the first to try your alchemy if Lugnut scornful glare tells something.

Sly human, still not stopping to prove the worthiness of your people, “I may take it into consideration”.

It was a wrong move, as now you take that little victory as your biggest move yet, your tiny project of people he admits to “maybe keep alive” and next thing he knows you're walking without much care around, you clean them and make it feel good, you make fuel as the long lost alchemist back on Cybertron, you come up with spare parts for him to choose, your wielding work is pitiful at best, but you keep searching videos for it, other humans showing how to patch a broken metal table and you use it to fix a blaster hole.

You have your use, Megatron is a bit amused and bothered at the same time for it.

Until you dry out again, distraught, Megatron finds you looking at a patch of nature, or more like a patch robbed of anything worth in it, “humanity is like this”, you tell him, “they need a lot of steel and other things for the robots”, Megatron can almost sense you distressed levels of cortisol, he may do the same, take everything, but what for? This planet heals itself if you leave half intact, humans are far too greedy, and way too destructive if the contamination in the area is anything to go by, Megatron is mad more over the fact this patch of the planet can't contribute more for him in the long run, and for some reason that makes you laugh, before taking a little sip of your bottle and be done with it.

But your consumption of ethanol-based liquids doesn't stop, at least you do it when almost no one is present so your sad, ugly behavior is unknown most of the time, just once Megatron asks for it, and your inhibited answer makes him see you in another perspective, “they aren't paying me the extra time, they give me the extra work because she took a sick leave but her social media is full of pictures of her in the freaking beach, I’m yelled at for passing out during work hours, I don't have time to eat because I must work and then come here, my family is mad I don't spend more time with them, they make me feel guilty”, you laugh, like the last shards of your sanity are slipping by your tiny fingers, “but you guys are better than them”, how humorous and miserable, for an alien species made of metal to treat you better than your own, and that's a lot to say about those people if you feel more at ease with the Decepticons.

Your sanity gets down to another low blow when Megatron finds you with little chalky things on your hands, a doctor prescribed them to you, they are rich in vitamins and he can tell by the smell, that there is something under them, it smells like poison.

A rotten smell started to come from you, slightly covered by the smell of sweet ethanol .

“Can I see the real Megatron?”

He takes a moment to take in the idea, so he moves forward to let you get a better side of his faceplate and helm, but your face shows how lost you are, your usual smell has subdued once again, and you have one of those natural essences on.

“The real Megatron?”, takes a moment to understand, and your smile grows at his transformation, he can do this, all his people can, but you seem almost moved to tears when he takes on his original form, words barely a whisper as you mutter a low “perfect”.

Your comment about his helm resembling a crown earns you a smirk, your fingers itching to touch it if he is right, he is handsome you say, flattery won't get you far but you rebuke him, recounting all the times you have seen pretty words and pretty bodies and faces win the best job, the best everything, your words drip poison, the thought is ridiculous, but you would make a good decepticon if only you weren't bond to your meat carcass.

Turns out, not even that stops you or him, it would be a lie to say that the softness of your bare body doesn't do things to him under the obvious discomfort of pushing his digits under the fabrics covering you, it's one of the very few moments your body doesn't reek of alcohol, its absence conveying your mind and body together as one once again as he lets your tiny hands roam his faceplate with reverence, touching his supposed crown in something akin to affection.

You've always been affectionate, even when it was your default mode all along your surroundings made it impossible to show it.

He catches on the badly sewed purple patch in your clothes, just above where your primitive fuel pump should be, one which runs faster when he comments an amused “Really?” once noticing the badge made by hand, you hug his faceplate, as far as you can reach, smiling in content and pursuing asylum of his optics in the middle of them, out of reach, kissing just in the middle, Megatron is no stranger to your outbursts of affection, he has come to accept it with time as much as he had to learn to handle you without breaking a rib, again.

He could kill you, but you make an interesting diversion from what is burning outside the hideout.

Wasting energon in mass displacement is out of the question, you don't seem to mind, except when you do and pitifully cry about not being fair, Megatron smiles, handsomely you add, when the tip of his spike brushes against your entrance, impossible to fit, but your warm mouth is focused over his anterior node, hands pushing along his biolights, time and his low vents, huffing above you as steam, have taught you enough, the lack of words from his part igniting curiosity on how far he will let you do and what makes the grin in his faceplate grow, you've learned enough to know where to use those stupidly tiny nails, dull enough to catch the mesh under, drag it down, your chest, insufficient by any means, but plush as you drag it around him, getting pleasure yourself when those peaks press in the most giving mesh you seem to like, using your arms to do your best and hug tight his spike, Megatron almost laughs when your mouth stops it's work and kiss under the node, opting to vent some vapor by his intake when you look back up at him; those watery eyes of yours, for once, seem normal, giving him the best angle to look at you, the real you, licking slowly, so slowly, your eyes don't leave his optics, you're missing his spike, loving him, giving him reverence, your harmless teeth dragging above his protomesh, trying to go hard with him, wishful thinking if anything, the lame excuse of a sting makes his engines rev, watching you make a show of one person, trying to hold into the best your body can give.

Soon, your tiredness puts an end to the play, now he gets serious and overstimulated with no real release unless he gets his servos dirty, holding you in one and looking at your entrance directly even when you yell by the surprise, Megatron seems it moisture enough, you meat bags get aroused so easily, but who is he to make fun of you when he can still hear his engines revving by your heated administrations of affection, even worse yet as you also hear them, smiling with that inherent cunning nature of yours, smile soon leaving you when his glossa makes contact to your sorry entrance, all small that it can barely hold the tip of his glossa at bay, your body almost fall down his servo when your head drops back by the sheer pressure, Megatron is expecting to feel your toes on his face, your pathetic leg struts kicking at him to go slower or faster, instead, he catches your body distracted in other places, your face is flush with blood, glancing intently to his weeping spike out of your reach, toes soon curling by the deep rumble of his chuckle, moaning, hands flying to hold your face, trying to keep it all together.

“Should know you have your priorities set”, giving a fast and final taste to your entrance Megatron puts you where you want to be, and, being honest, he also does, already with practice in hand in how to put you under the side of his spike, letting you get a good hold of your space, pushing your hips, inviting him to destroy and ruin you.

He laughs lowly to himself, he has already ruined you for anyone else, he has already ruined you for your species, there will be no one else after him, and you seem content with it as you moan, freely, drowning in pleasure as his hips finally move and give you the friction you've been waiting for, holding for dear life to his servo, the practice has resulted in experience, he knows what you like too, more by the fact you two are similar down there even when it is increasingly concerning, but once his nodes push against your weeping entrance, once your fluids make it easy for him to take and for you to give, all those concerns seem to fade away, feeling a concentrated rush of desire flow through his frame as his optics take on the image of your little body taking all it can, imagining how a tight feat it will be once he can claim you.

He has already done it, your mind is his, he just needs time and resources to claim your body entirely.

Later on, while he is resting in the berth of his quarters you have the confidence to put a blanket over yourself, feeling brave enough to wander around with only the fabric on but still short to walk naked around him in the privacy of his territory.

It's okay, soon, he will fix your broken self-esteem, and make you see your use and strength, till then, Megatron is satisfied, hearing you promise him to make an alternative fuel for his people, Megatron can hardly hear your hypothesis about combining carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen and some kind of acid with energon, the lust and passion of an organic seem to know no limitations if you two have been at it for so long, but you just promise him, he will see the real potential of your people, something worth to keep, and Megatron believes you may have some truth in your words if your keep fighting on for it, something worth fighting for.

Something worth fighting for, Megateon reminds himself of such when he is taken, broken, and all the hideout falls, he supposed you succumbed under the debris and made peace with the idea of dying fast under a rock, no suffering, no questioning, just death, deeming it enough and fair for you.

Megatron, instead, is forced to watch the organic news, in between, he sees you, your face and name, pointed as the main culprit of an unfruitful act of rebellion against the Autobots, the new allies of humanity, blinded flesh bags that know nothing of the deep hatred and disgust the very same Autobots teach as nature, Megatron knows, as his kind, the war frames, the flying frames, and the worker frames have always been on the short side of any real benefit, he expects to see you still fighting, but it soon changes when he sees the pieces scattered and poorly covered, the space bridge painted with red and explosive energon, all washed away as it never happened.

As it didn't matter at all.

Nobody mourns you as the title of a traitor is branded next to your name, no matter that Megatron has seen you do the possible and impossible to save your people from his plans, people that hardly knew the real you spew lies to make them feel and be seen better, Sentinel Prime makes him see all, amused by the flesh bag that wore the decepticon badge on its covers, telling Megatron, with words heavy with fake appreciation and genuine scorn: “how did you train that organic to bid your every word?”.

It's far from the truth, as Megatron hoped for your easy death, he would have never instructed or led you down to such a gruesome and painful one.

But alas, he is the big, bad, murderous decepticon that consumes autobot protoforms.

Once the Prime has had his fun, he lets him be, displayed for everyone to see, an example of the Autobots’ power, new sparks look at him from behind the glass, in the ocean of bright optics, ready to learn and be corrupted by the Autobots' lies, he notices a knowing pair, a visor, and Soundwave looking at him, Megatron can listen to him in his mind, and shows him the amount of your devotion for the Decepticon cause, using your body and all the components in it to create the bomb you promised him, “the power enough to force the space bridge to work”, drowning in the energon and the metal by one big intake, power enough to fuel any space bridge to let the little decepticon cross back to Cybertron and create a cover, if Megatron has anything to say about it while lowering his helm Soundwave already knows and walks with the rest of the new sparks, carrying out his mission, all that Megatron has to do is wait, get the upper hand, take all the advantages he can and all the outcomes, play the game of war in a very human fashion, something the Autobots have not encountered yet.

Megatron, helm down and spark heavy, won't mourn you, not yet, he has to avenge you first and claim back the planet you tried to protect.

.

If you look deep enough, the TFA universe can be very dark and scary, especially if you think about how they managed to get so much technology in such a short amount of time, as in Megatron cut down to pieces to know how he works.

@tf-kinktober2024

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

The results from my brain scan come back early one Wednesday morning a few weeks after the chitauri-hybrid attack. Since that night, (Y/N) and I have lived in relative marital bliss, sharing domestic duties, and she even went back to work in the Avengers towers last week. I’m set to meet with the U.S. government on Friday to talk about becoming an ambassador to Wakanda, and things are looking up.

And then it’s all nearly destroyed when one sheet of printer paper is passed across the table to us. That paper, thin and flimsy though it is in my rough hands, erects an impenetrable wall of ice between my wife and I, great and terrible and impossible to breach.

“What do you mean, different?” My wife demands, looking up from the scan results. “He might be missing some things, but he’s still—”

She hesitates. Her silence is loaded with all the things I know she wants to say, but won’t.

He’s still my husband, she wants to say. 

But we have scientific evidence to the contrary.

On the scan, different colors indicate the active parts of my brain. On one side, color fills every part of the brain. On the other, there are—

“… holes,” the doctor is saying. “And the places that are active… they indicate deep sleep brain activity.”

“But I’m awake. And functioning,” I point out, stating the obvious.

“I agree.” The doctor looks over the rim of her glasses. “The scan must be wrong, somehow. I’m not sure how, mind you. But in any case, you are not well, Mr. Barnes. The holes I will accept as malfunction. But the functioning parts of the scan… those certainly indicate dreaming.”

I am not, according to science, actually myself. I am some version of me whose mind is asleep, dreaming.

This knowledge sends everything into another horrific tailspin. What had become a stable, happy existence is upended— and I, for one, am sick and tired of picking up shattered pieces of my life and putting them painstakingly back together.

The doctor insists on repeating the scan, then sends us home in a silent daze. 

“Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I don’t actually see what the problem is,” I tell my wife a little later as she paces our living room, anxious and unsettled. 

“Really?” Her voice is acidic. “You don’t see an issue with the fact that they think you’re dreaming instead of living here in reality— with me?”

“So the scan came back a little wonky,” I shrug. “I gotta tell ya, doll, I’ve never been normal.”

“And see, you’re not freaking out about this, not even a little! Don’t you find that concerning? You have the anxiety levels of someone being hunted for sport even when you’re napping on the couch sometimes and you want me to believe that this doesn’t bother you?”

“Hey, if you’re always anxious, then you’re never anxious.” I raise my glass of water and take a sip. “Soldier math.”

She runs her fingers through her hair, and for a moment, I believe she’s going to rip out the strands between her fingers by the roots.

“You make me crazy,” she growls in frustration. “Can you please pretend to be even a little concerned about this?”

“Why? I can’t change it.”

“That’s the attitude you take with everything, but Bucky, here’s the thing— what if you can change it?” Her eyes search mine. Even angry, anxious, and dreadful, they shine beautifully. “Would you? Do you even know that about yourself? How do I know that every decision you make, every complacency, every word, every glance, and every touch, is even your decision and not some— some dream to you where nothing matters at all?”

I inhale through my nose, exhale through my mouth.

“You wanna do this, fine. But you might not like the conclusion you come to if we lay all of this out.”

She folds her arms.

“I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

Alright. She asked for it.

“I’m not your husband.” I tell her firmly. “I’m not him today, I wasn’t him yesterday, and I probably won’t be him tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll get my memories back, or if I ever will— but I want to give this an honest try. I have been giving this an honest try, and let me tell you, this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. What we have, who I am— this works. But it won’t continue to work if you don’t stop comparing me to some impossible version of me that I can’t be anymore. I’m trying, (Y/N), I really am, but I can’t be something I never was.”

The pain in her eyes is not something I relish— but I’ve told the truth as far as I can tell it. She’s quiet for a long moment, and when she speaks, her voice is quiet and grave.

“I swore,” she says slowly, “that I would always love you. That I would be loyal to you in this life and every life, waking and dreaming. It’s an oath that I will always keep. But you… you, James Buchanan Barnes, just as you are… you did not swear that oath to me. This yoke is one-sided.”

I don’t feel that that’s very fair to me— I’ve taken blind faith to its most extreme iteration here, and that should count for something— but she continues before I can point this out.

“Would you stay here if you had another choice?”

The question rests heavily on my shoulders.

“What if you had woken up in someone else’s bed? Would you still have chosen me then?”

“That is a useless hypothetical,” I point out, “and a moot point since I didn’t wake up in someone else’s bed. I woke up in ours.”

“That’s exactly my point. What if the person that you’re meant to be with— what if that person isn’t me?”

I’m growing steadily more tired of this.

“Well, what if the sky was made of fart clouds and all the world was an ass-crack?”

My wife glares at me.

“Bucky, be serious.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were still doing the useless hypothetical thing.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Tony Stark. I’m talking about your free will here, Bucky. I have a vested interest in making sure no one ever, ever takes that away from you again.”

She looks away so that I will not see the pain on her face.

“Not even me.”

Oh. Oh. 

I suppose the trouble with having a wife— a good one, at least— is that she’s always able to make an ass out of you by loving you beyond what you can imagine for yourself. Love is patient and unselfish, but contrary to popular belief, it is not always kind to those who feel it.

“Baby— is that what you’re worried about? My free will?”

She nods.

“Then let me make this clear.” I stand up and make my way over to her until I can feel the warmth of her cheek on my hand as I cradle her face. “If I didn’t want to be here,, I wouldn’t be. I would muchh rather sit here and argue with the woman who loves me than chase some stranger down the block for a bit of skirt. I may not remember everything that’s happened between us, and I may not have made the same vow to you that you’ve made to me, but what we have is real. If you want me to prove that to you, then I will.”

“That sounds good in theory,” she muses, “but how?”

“Well, how long did it take us to get married?”

I can feel her cheek grow hot beneath my hand.

“A year.”

“So we start over. Date nights, I court you, the whole thing— and a year from today, we renew our vows. What do you say?”

Tears fill her eyes.

“In this life and every life,” she says, “waking and dreaming. This I swear.”

I know she means it. 

When we make love later in the evening, it feels like a tender, aching promise. When she arches off the bed in the throes of her pleasure, I press our bodies together and hold her tight, willing our hearts to fuse so tightly together that they can never be sundered. I will win back all that I have lost and more, I swear to myself. I will be worthy of the life she has made for us.

***

A year later, we do renew our vows.

Same time, same place as the first go-around. I’m wearing a suit. She’s wearing a dress. All of our friends are here— some new, some old— and they’re all overjoyed. What could be more perfect?

My wife repeats her vow before me. Her voice is solid and sure, and I am moved by the words as much now as the first time I’d ever heard her say them.

As I begin to repeat them myself, however, something terrible within me stirs. My world tilts, and I start to feel a little fuzzy.

“In this life…” I say with effort, “and every life. Waking and dreaming. This…”

I start to feel sick. My wife looks at me in concern.

This is pitiful, I think. I must try again.

“In this life and every life,” I grit out, feeling as though I am holding every atom of my being together by force. “Waking and dreaming. This I swear.”

I manage it just in time to press my lips against hers before the world goes dark.

[dorkus-mcdingus]

God the Fellow brain rot is taking over me! AGH!!!!!

No lie though, aside from him being an absolute A-HOLE, I can't help but think of Joker from Black Butler whenever I see him, except for the fact that he holds no loyalty towards his employer.

I keep thinking of a scenario where Fellow was singing to himself mainly just to get his mind off of the verbal abuse the park's proprietor (who the underground "lovingly" refers to as The Coachman) would hurl at him and Gidel.

Yes, he did pay them handsomely, and it did give them a sense of schadenfreude whenever those wealthy cunts fall for their scheme and are turned into puppets, but even that couldn't satisfy the envy he felt nor would it numb the pain he felt every time the Coachman would call him just to call them worthless wastes of space and how if street vermin like them would rather die, then they should do it and decrease the surplus population.

Every day as both he and Gidel polished the park to a sparkling shine, oh how he wanted to rip the heads off of the statues of the friendly fox and the gentle cat, melt them down into gold coins and ditch the place but, money doesn't grow on trees and due to the limitations he had with his education, he was desperate for something so that he and Gidel could at least have food on their table.

On days like this one, Fellow got a good look at his reflection as the ship sailed to their next destination, but the Coachman's words kept playing in his head much like the cuckoos of the clocks in one of the displays.

From the little recollection he had of his youth, there was a song he remembered hearing but it became something he would quietly sing to himself whenever something bad happens and he's grasping onto every last morsel of hope for a better tomorrow despite the Coachman saying that those two aren't and will never be worthy of anything.

Still, it always worried Gidel whenever he heard his big brother singing that particular tune because that meant that he was starting to lose his spark and he's trying to distract himself without lighting a cigar or a cigarette to numb everything going on.

On the week prior to arriving on Sage's Island to get new prospects, he walked inside his big brother's dressing room, seeing him sitting at the lit vanity that rested behind the Playful Stage as he dabbed the green eyeshadow on his lids singing that same, worrying tune.

He tugged on his sleeve, saying to him,

{"You're singing that again."}

"Is it wrong of me to? Who knows if we're going to gain some successful prospects again after we got chased out of The Port of Bliss."

{"We will! I know with your way of charming people, we'll be able to have food on our table again! Who knows, maybe the boss will give you the praise you've worked so hard for!"}

"I envy how much of a ninny you can be, Giddy. Men like the proprietor don't change. Sometimes I wonder if we made the right choice going back to that prick."

{"You're thinking we're like the old toymaker? That we're stuck in the belly of a whale?"}

"No shit, you dunderhead! As funny as it is seeing Ivory Tower fucks making absolute jackasses of themselves before reality comes crashing down, the more I polish those damned statues, the more I want to rip out my own tail and sell it to some sick freak who would get a kick out of that. At least they would respect me more than the boss."

Gidel let out a sigh as he wrapped his tiny hand around his.

{"Remember what you told me? You said that we'd get those wealthy jerks to dance for us and that we can go wherever we want."}

"It's not like before where we were roaming around and doing everything ourselves, plus it doesn't help that the law would be after us if they find out what we're doing. Petty scams aimed at those pricks are nothing compared to what we're doing now."

{"They never come back as people... That's what the boss said. With the way the boss keeping us, it feels like we're his own personal donkeys doing his dirty work while he gets to sit back and gorge himself. It ain't fair!"}

Gidel stomped before he kicked the wall.

"Hey, stop that! The park's magic can fall on us if we're not careful and last I recall, I'm the only one who can dispel the magic over this forsaken place. I don't want you to turn into a puppet as well. We can't be crude."

Gidel frowned as his ears turned downward.

{"Sorry, Fellow."}

In return, Fellow huffed out a breath before having his little brother sit beside him.

"I know it ain't fair. I hate kissing that prick's ass so we can eat. After that meeting in the inn... It really felt like I signed my soul away to the devil..."

As Gidel sat up on his knees, he threw his arms around his big brother, pulling him into a tight hug.

Despite the two of them growing up in such a dog eat dog world, in moments of pure hopelessness, the little beastman was always there to help ground him and to remind him to keep pushing forward towards bigger and better goals.

"Oh Gidel," Fellow sighed, gently patting the boy on his back before he ruffled his hair. "You really are a hopeless fool, but I'm glad you stuck with me for so long."

From there, Gidel grabbed his big brother's shoulders as he gave him an intense stare.

{"Don't worry, one way or another, we'll find a way out of here and we'll make that jerk pay for how he's treated us."}

"Heh, you're right. That day when we deal our boss a special sort of karma courtesy of us... That'll be the day."

[axylotls]

hihi!! i've been seeing your post about language on my tl recently because a lot of my moots are circulating it . . . so, i read your post and replies about shifting terminology and it really made me pause. i’m not disagreeing at all, and i actually really appreciate how you framed it—especially the part about referring to yourself in the third person across realities. that really stuck with me.

at the same time, i’ve been sitting with this thing around how language shapes our self-perception. like when people say “minishifted,” i don’t hear it as just a casual descriptor—it feels (to me) like a soft way of saying “i didn’t really do it,” when in fact . . . they did. even if it was brief. even if it wasn’t what they expected. i worry that adding “mini” sometimes lets people distance themselves from their own power, like it’s easier to say “it wasn’t all the way” than to admit “i shifted.”

so i guess i’m wondering how you see that. like—is it ever worth being intentional with the words we use, not to gatekeep, but to help ourselves own what we’ve done? or do you feel like people should just go with whatever feels natural, even if it’s language that might be downplaying something kind of massive. or is the issue just when people try to govern others' language?

genuinely curious how you hold that. i’m still working through it myself (i hope this doesn't come off as rude or disrespectful, because that was not my intention).

oh my god this is so long.. i read through it and i think it makes sense, but please let me know if my rambles are incomprehensible!

thank you for asking, i love to talk about this! this whole discussion about language and what terminology to use is very particular because i believe the answer will change for everyone depending on circumstances and perspective.

in my own experience, policing language has only further strained my journey as a shifter. i became too wrapped up in what specific terms and phrasing i should use, that i stopped really understanding the weight of it. instead of focusing on shifting itself, i would focus on how exactly i worded everything—not only in my posts and conversations with friends, but also how i thought. if i'm constantly scolding myself for calling it a desired reality over intended reality, i'm completely shifting my focus on the act of shifting itself.

do you get what i'm saying? if we put too much pressure on ourselves for how to say things, it's not uncommon for us to forget why we are saying them at all.

as for the topic of "mini-shifting," it's important to differentiate whether the person saying they've "mini-shifted" acknowledge that a "full shift" (for lack of better term) and a mini-shift are essentially the same thing. sure, some people say "mini-shifting" because they don't believe it's as special as shifting for a long period of time to their desired reality—but a lot of the time (at least from what i've seen and my own experience), the term "mini" is simply used as a descriptor.

they shifted for a short period of time = mini. they didn't open their eyes = mini. it's not necessarily saying they don't believe they can shift, or even diminishing their ability, it's simply describing what their experiences up until now have been. that's one way to view it, at least.

all this to say: i think everyone is different and you should not feel responsible for another person's journey.

some people prefer harsh motivation, while others like to hear uplifting words—the same applies to the terminology every individual uses.

i believe people should use what makes them comfortable. calling it a mini-shift makes you uncomfortable? call it a shift! you don't like the term current reality? don't call it that! we cannot be preaching the idea that there are no rules to shifting if people keep policing what words people use when talking about it. it's really taking us back to when people on shiftok were telling others they can't use the word not in their scripts 'cause the brain "can't understand it." ...

(if you believe that your words affect your thought process, then that is a completely personal journey to tackle! my view and belief on shifting is mostly emotions rather than clear thoughts, so i am not affected by the words i use. it is entirely up to you.)

the important thing to know is that the words you use do not affect or hinder your ability to shift—unless you believe they do. however, what's important is your belief in your ability to shift. do you believe you can shift? yes? then congratulations, you can shift!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Why do you think they don't show Marinette comforting other characters? It's always been a weird writing decision to me, and I sometimes wondered if I was legit just erasing all the times it happened out of my memory or smth. Like the first character trait established for her is she struggles to say no to people, she is a people-pleaser. And there isn't a better way to make ur mc lovable than showing how they effect the people around them. AND it would make her breakdowns genuinely heartbreaking, because she keeps giving and giving and it's a genuine flaw. Like, she rushed off to comfort Ivan in Origins, right? We should have had more of that. I'm reminded of that one Lady Wifi (i think?) scene where Ladybug is smiling at her adoring fans and the camera while Chat Noir is in the background actually comforting a child lmao. It just feels so weird, because I think Marinette IS actually supposed to be someone who does that, who provides that comfort to her loved ones all the time (even at the cost of her own mental health, boom, an actual thing she can work towards). But we just keep getting the reverse instead. She just kinda feels like a shit friend? Showing that emotional labor would also make her exhaustion work because like, what does the guardian even DO? Tell not show, but they ain't telling shit.

One of the things that drew me to Miraculous is the fact that the show tends to write the characters in non-standard gender roles, so I actually like the fact that Marinette tends to be more of a fixer than a comforter. She drives people to action and wants to solve problems and is very good at taking the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she kind of sucks at emotional vulnerability and comforting people. It's genuinely a good flaw for her character and a lovely thing to see in a show aimed at girls. No, we don't all need to be stereotypically maternal figures. Women can be just as bad as men stereotypically are when it comes to emotions!

The problem is that the show is obsessed with Marinette holding every important role in the story, meaning that we don't get a more emotionally aware character or characters to balance her out. Nor do we get to see her learn that this is a flaw of hers and either improve or just own that she's bad at this and learn to trust someone else with these types of issues. (This is one of the many things I think Adrien should have been allowed to do, btw. Ladybug is the brains, Chat Noir should be the heart.) We also don't get a true sense of Marinette's struggles because the show's formulaic nature rarely allows for those types of problems.

The Lila thing is a good example. Lila says that she's going to destroy Marinette's friendships, but she literally can't do that because that would mean changing the way the characters relate on a massive scale and formula shows can't do that. So instead of seeing Marinette struggle as Lila lies and manipulates everyone into hating Marinette, we get extremely annoying episodes where Lila lies and everyone believes her, but no one gets all that upset at Marinette's constant accusations. They just treat it as a minor quibble which is actually more aggravating than Lila changing the status quo in my opinion.

There's also the issue that you brought up: we don't see Marinette truly struggling to be the guardian, so her new role doesn't feel like a big deal. Not much changes for her save for the kwamis being around now. We don't even know what her relationship with Master Fu was really like because he was barely ever on screen so we really don't feel her loss.

All of this is just another problem to lay at the feat of our ever-present issue: Miraculous does not have the right conflicts and characters for a formula show. Formula shows thrive off of things being lighthearted and the heroes lacking major flaws. Miraculous chose to make things somewhat serious and give everyone flaws that are just begging to be address, but that can't be because this is the wrong format for that type of thing.

In a team show where character arcs were a thing or even just one where character dynamics were a thing and Marinette was allowed to share the screen in a more balanced manner, then everything about her would work fine. She's set up perfectly for that kind of show. She is not set up for a formula show where she's basically the only character that matters outside of the villains. If that's what they wanted to write, then Marinette needed to be limited to minor flaws that never last more than an episode or at least limited to flaws that are purely situational such as being stubborn or the classic sudo-flaw of being clumsy that the show already embraces.

[the-fictive-haven]

I'm not okay.

Society has pushed me down, calling me useless and all manner of foul things, telling me I need to be fixed.

That I need to be functional.

That I need to change myself in order to have a place in this world, because those of us who can't pull ourselves together live a life in the shadows of others that some would call barely worth living.

I can't. So what now? Even knowing how useless and bleak it seems, knowing I don't have the energy or the will to continue fighting for long and am running on fumes and spite at best, I can't resign myself to that fate.

Fuck all the motivational posters, quotes and whatnot meant for able-bodied people with a brain that doesn't actively fight them every day. It just doesn't work like that. And yet we're made to feel bad, to think ourselves lazy, when we can't motivate ourselves to even try. We beat ourselves up just as much if not more than the outsiders who couldn't even begin to understand our struggles. We can't accept that sometimes we're just not okay.

Sometimes we just can't do it.

Sometimes we need to rest more than others do.

Sometimes we need to cancel plans because the brain and body decide to rebel against us that day.

Sometimes we can't eat healthy or exercise even if we want to.

Sometimes we're just trying to survive. And surviving itself is an act of resistance.

We're not okay, and we're also not alone. There are often others right beside you, suffering their invisible struggles in silence. Wondering if today will be the day they finally lose it all.

We're not okay. And it's okay not to be okay.

It's okay to ask for help, and it's okay if you can't right now.

It's okay to accept help if it's extended to you, even if you don't feel like you deserve it.

It's okay to have days where you just can't do anything.

It's okay to have a messy living space, because you can't for the life of you bring yourself to clean up.

It's okay to have chores that go undone today because you don't have it in you to do them.

It's okay to not feel like talking to people today.

It's okay to have coping methods outside the realm of what's considered "healthy".

It's okay to cry.

It's okay to be angry.

It's okay to be afraid.

It's okay to be in pain.

It's okay to be exhausted.

It's okay to wish things were different.

It's okay to use that mobility aid, even if you feel like you "don't really need it".

It's okay to use whatever you have available for communication, for whatever reason you may be uncomfortable with or unable to speak.

It's okay if your disability makes other people uncomfortable. It's not your responsibility to cater to them. And it's also okay if you still feel like you have to hide it.

It's okay if your disability and the accomodations you need inconveniences other people. You don't need to apologize. And it's okay if you feel compelled to apologize anyway.

It's okay to advocate for yourself, and have others advocate for you. It's okay if this pisses able-bodied people off. You're not the asshole for fighting for your right to accessibility.

You're just trying to survive.

We're all just trying to survive.

And I'm proud of each and every one of you for making it this far. For surviving, even if just barely. We're here for you, if you want to keep surviving together. We're reaching out a hand, and you're invited to take it.

You're not obligated to, of course. Even if you don't, just know we see you and your struggles, and we appreciate the fact that you're alive. You're part of our community, even if you don't engage with it.

You are loved, by us if by no one else, and you are worthy of love. Yes, even you, with all your struggles and baggage. Even though you're broken. We'll be the ones to appreciate and protect all of the pieces - we won't try to force you back together, we won't try to "fix" you, because we understand that it isn't fucking helpful.

We're broken too. We've been there. People have tried to fix us and only done more damage.

We're not okay. We may never really be okay. And that's okay.

[interstellarsystem]

Experiences With Being Out as a System

So, our parents know we're a system. It's all good, they understand that when we suddenly speak like someone from London that it's just another guy taking the body for a spin real quick and that they don't need to question it too much.

The thing is... They don't know our names, or anything about us as individuals. We don't have enough open communication with them to actually discuss the inner-workings of the hundreds of little guys in our brain and who they are or what they like, but even if we did, it's not actually important to them. It almost seems like it's swept under the rug.

Our mother said that she doesn't get why she should have to know anyone else when we're all "us". We're all just a collective to her still, a bunch of bits that make up her child, even though she knows we're separate. Her child, the original, isn't here anymore. But the thing is.. some of us want to get to know her and the family individually. Even beyond just being seen as who we actually are, we want to be a part of it aside from being treated as someone who is gone. But it's not a thing they understand despite our explanations of what it means to us, even despite the fact they know the original is dormant and has been for years.

The most anyone in our family knows about us is our mother, and she only knows anyone with a voice similar to Sark as "the american one". She doesn't know that there's even multiple who sound similar to him.

Technically, we're out as a system. Effectively, though... We're still closeted. Though not really because we're staying in it, moreso that we left but it follows us around like a shield within our own household, but it's not shielding us. It's shielding them from us.

Our experience with talking to medical professionals has been hard because of this--sharing bits about ourselves has been scary. It's scarier to show them pictures of our nonhuman headmates and say "that one is me", but it's never actually been bad when we've mustered up the strength to do it. One of them looked at Mal and saw his horns and said he looks like a faun from Greek mythology. Even though he's not, a positive response like that was empowering. That same one said Filigree's hair was cool. Little acknowledgements about who you are when you've tried to be seen before is great.

With our IRL friends, we expected the situation to be similar to our parents. Swept under the rug like a taboo and given weird, uncomfortable looks when spoken about. But it's been completely different.

We get asked who is fronting, we get acknowledged as separate people, hell, we even felt comfortable telling them about our actual fictive identities and letting the ones who wanted to follow this blog (hey guys if you're reading this <3) get access to it. They acknowledge our nonhumanity and nonhuman parts, share things about our sources with us because it reminded them of us, etc. Sometimes, now, because we've been open about it, we get people actually ask "is x fronting" and we say yes and they say "I knew it".

That specific feeling of being recognised even when your outward appearance doesn't change is absolutely amazing. Little manerisms, little ways our voice sounds even when masking accents out in public, even the words we choose to use are tells toward who is actually controlling the body and they pick up on it--even things we might not recognise we even do. Sure, there's hundreds of people in here and people won't know every single one off by heart, but the ones who are out here often are being recognised and that, to me, is amazing and validating to all of us.

I guess the point here is me sharing our experiences, but also.... You will be able to find people who see you for you. You as a system, you as a nonhuman, you as a disabled person, you as a queer person--you'll be able to find your people. And you know, I hope you do soon--because the feeling of being known is great.

[olivebeeandstuff]

On the humans are weird subject:

I recently read this book called Livewired, by David Eagleman - pleeeease if you like anything neuroscience related, read his books, they're great- where he suggested that we dream because of neuroplasticity and the rotation of the earth.

Basically neuroplasticity means that the brain will adapt to the data it receives. You lose a hand, the brain will turn the area that was uses to process that hand's info into an area to process the rest of the arm. You lose your vision, the vision processing areas will be taken over by tact and hearing.

But this kind of adaptation can happen really quick, he mentions one study where they blindfolded people and it took only one hour to notice changes in brain activity.

So back to the rotation of the Earth, because of it we have long periods of darkness, which means not using our eyes and focusing on other senses for long periods of time daily - at least before we learned how to control fire, which was fairly recent in evolution terms.

Because of this he proposes that dreams are to practice our vision, to make sure that during those periods of darkness, the brain is still processing visual information, the theory is corroborated by the fact that there are very few areas of the brain involved in dreaming, it's mostly the visual cortex. That would also explain why we usually don't remember dreams, there's no need to.

Now imagine a world with a different rotation speed, one that's very fast, or one that doesn't have rotation at all. Imagine if these places had intelligent life. They would very likely not dream. Or maybe somewhere in the universe, intelligent life evolved with completely different brains, and they don't need to dream.

The aliens would be very confused with it. Like how do we even explain it?

Alien: So what you are saying is that you are experiencing daily vivid hallucinations where you can't tell what's true or not. Should I be worried? Should I call the doctor?

Human: No, it's not like that! It's normal, every human dreams every night, or at least they should. I think not having dreams is actually a sign that something is wrong...

Alien: Every one of you does that?! How is that not dangerous?

Human: Well you see, our bodies are usually kinda deactivated when it happens, so it all in our head. And we mostly don't even remember it anyways

Alien: Usually?

Human: Yeah, sometimes people talk in their sleep and things like that. Then there's people like Steve, he's what we call a sleep walker, his body is completely functional when he dreams, so he just walks around unconscious thinking that he's in his dream

Alien: STEVEN WALKS AROUND COMPLETELY UNCONSCIOUS WHILE HAVING VIVID HALLUCINATIONS AND YOU DON'T THINK THAT'S A PROBLEM?!

[chaos-in-one]

I think some people underestimate just how much of system & plural origin labels comes down to self-perception. How many different ways similar situations can be interpreted by different people, and there for end up being labeled completely differently from one another.

I've been thinking about this recently, and come to the realization that some of our own system could be considered under the label of 'created' alters- I just had never interpreted it that way before because I saw how they formed as 'a normal CDD thing' and therefore didn't consider that it could be labeled as anything else. The way I labeled it was due to my own perception of the situation, and it's easier to see that now that my perception has somewhat changed (although I do also consider how we all formed to fit within 'normal CDD things' as well, I just let myself look into it enough to see the 'layers' or complexity to how alters in my system formed instead of just shrugging it off to 'oh yeah they formed to handle something our brain didn't think the existing alters could handle' and not looking at it past that). Just like how I used to purely see my system as a strictly medical CDD system (because I felt it was wrong to see myself as anything but that), but after exploring my spritual beliefs more, began to also see connections between my spiritual beliefs and plurality, and perceive my plurality different for it.

A lot of our system has a tendency to use escapism as a way to handle stressful and traumatic situations, myself included. When I'm upset, I tend to try to find something to distract and calm myself down, usually fiction like a book or a comic or youtube videos or a game. And I know, and have known for a while now, that high stress situations run the risk of causing a new split, a new alter to form. And that fixating exclusively on a piece of media as a way to cope, for us, makes it highly likely that the new alter will end up being an introject, because our brain saw that that media helped take our mind off the stress and decided that meant that media could help. And yet, knowing this, I didn't stop interacting with media when I was stressed. In fact, sometimes, I've almost hoped that interacting with whatever media I like at the time would cause a new split to be an introject. Splitting for us is highly related to stress and trauma, so it's generally upsetting to me. Making it more likely that a new split would be an introject from what I was watching/reading/etc. made it feel more predictable, it took a little bit of the uncertainty away. If I could influence a new split to be an introject, then, at least, I would have some idea of what to expect to happen in the aftermath of the split, even if the introject wasn't super close to their source. It gave me some semblance of control over a highly upsetting situation that often stemmed from us not being able to control something else in our life.

I was only fairly recently able to acknowledge that there was this intention was there. That there was intention behind the formation of at least some of the introjects in our system- both now with me as the host, and most likely with previous hosts as well, although I can't communicate with them to confirm that. There was a long time where I felt ashamed or upset at the forming of new introjects, and even felt guilty because I knew my interests and tendency towards escapism influenced that. I did, over time, learn to accept it and understand that introjects forming wasn't something shameful or that I should feel bad for, it was what I and our brain needed at the time to cope. But my perspective didn't shift much until I was able to acknowledge that some of that wasn't just a consequence of how we are, some of it was intentional. And it was only after that that I realized that the way we coped and the way we handled stress, the way some of the introjects in our system formed is, at least in a way, a form of creation.

That doesn't mean the way I saw things before or how I labeled them were wrong, though. It just means my perspective on it has changed. All that explanation is to show how much origin labels, how someone views the formation of an alter or their system as a whole, is a matter of their own perspective. Even one system can end up labeling their experiences differently as their perspective changes, and the same is true across different systems who share similar experiences.

Perspective and personal interpretation are powerful things, and they affect far more than people often think they do.

[moirindeclermont]

Daily thread about BridgertonS3 while we wait for part 2.

Let's talk about Pen, because oh boy I have thoughts 💭 and the short version is "you go girl, good for you, you deserve everything".

Let me start by making a huge shout out to Nicola because she is amazing. I'm in awe of her performance!

And also, disclaimer: this is a very personal opinion based on my experience and my views. Every opinion, as long as it respectful, is valid in my book because it's yours.

But, back to Pen. I do not have to imagine what it feels like pining for someone. To those who never experienced it, imagine all the good stuff about being in love with someone combined with the torture of not be able to he with that person. Don't recommend but sometimes it's just how it is.

And in this context what you do receive, in various form, is a recycled statements along the line of "you have to move on". By the way, and I know this might be unpopular, as long as you don't hurt anyone or go on stalker mode, pining is fine. It might pass, with time. It evolves and it changes, but as long as you're respectful there is nothing wrong with that.

Add to this the layer of "marrying is the only way to get out of this house" I don't blame her for trying. Not one bit.

I already touched on previous threads that I don't find shameful or pitiful asking to kiss Colin. It's over the top? Maybe, but losing hope can make people acting like that.

Moreover, I love that, in the beginning of the carriage scene, Pen doesn't believe Colin. Or doesn't want to believe him. It's been years, so of course you don't believe it, initially.

And I love that when Colin tries to go back "Forgive me" that's when she take a step in his direction. The bravery that it took to speak, I could not image it.

And afterwords, when they stop and Colin adjusts her dress 👀 and she says "what are you doing?" In the softest voice... I think that part broke me. Because imagine having everything you've ever wanted right in front of you, and still there is a part of her brain that doesn't believe it.

As proven by the "Colin?" When he steps out of the carriage. Because even when everything should be okay, but you're not used to happiness and comfort and security, it's normal to doubt.

It's heartbreaking but so real! And yes, there are conflicts that are going to be resolved, but let me touch briefly before this truly becomes an essay on the importance of representation.

Because it's rare to see stuff like this. So rare but so important. The fact that we are waiting to suspend our belief when it comes to Marvel and Star Wars, but we drew the line at this (which is much more common that people think) speaks to me about how much we still have to work on representing different body types.

So, in conclusion, this part 1 made me feel seen. Because everyone deserves love and connection (in different forms according to each). Everyone. Don't let anyone tell you different. Thank you, Pen. Thank you, Colin. Thank you, Bridgerton.

[no-nic]

im sooo intruiged by the konoha spin-off of that kakasaku au... and also by the actual au tbh. are sasuke+ naruto still in konoha? what role does rin play in konoha's politics? is she a jounin sensei? what was the team minato dynamic like without kakashi? how do sakura and kakashi's lives go? how weird is rin being about interpersonal relationships (if she has any)? and id be interested to hear pretty much anything about this au lol feel free to infodump :3

⭐️ i have. a lot to say ⭐️

point of divergence?

at first i wanted to swap sakumo with a kiri shinobi. then i realized, nothing ever changes. one man doesn't start or stop a war. he didn't change the system. fandom misconception: apparently sakumo gets blamed for a mission that started a war? what are timelines? who said that? i know that when one is writing a fic it's easy to conspiracy-brain this & say something like "root sabotaged the mission" to keep sakumo like... "perfect"? or that danzo for some reason staged his death? we're just adding crimes to the old man's portfolio huh sakumo's kiri existence leads to sakura's parents -- in this they are civilian merchants -- settling in the land of water and having a child earlier. let's say they are originally from around wave. they are fairly shinobi-positive: "our bloodthirsty little girl wants to learn to stab people? okay sweetie :)" ...sakura may or may not have younger siblings (who remain civilians) i'm keeping some fun sakumo & kakashi material to myself for now ^^

topics to explore in the future:

[story] sword legacies, expectations

[meta] girls with big weapons

[meta & story] lack of tragic backstory for sakura

meanwhile in konoha

let's be real, you're here because of rin. some of this is just my unwillingness to derail canon too much. rin follows canon kakashi's path: anbu, maybe a short stint in root, jonin, some more anbu work alongside visible jonin missions, and finally jonin-sensei! she doesn't spend hours staring at the memorial stone; she carries everything on her. she stares at people. all the time. sometimes hidden with genjutsu, sometimes just standing there like a statue. blink goes the sharingan. don't mind her. canon kakashi came to meet his new team late; rin was standing in the (ceiling) corner since early morning

don't worry, she still has terrible identity issues; the shared eyeball stuff really messed her up. "i will see the future through you" but twice. she is team 7 now. there's a monologue about team roles brewing in her head, you can bet edo tensei'd minato will hear it as soon as he leaves the coffin! hiroto (our hyuga oc; born to rage and die) & obito bring major "fuck the clans" energy.

rin sees the aftermath of eyeball politics:

fact: obito voluntarily gave a body part to an allied combatant (who previously lost an eye)

was obito's body his to give away? or does it belong to his village? or his clan?

decision: hiroto can keep the sharingan but he's on thin ice

fact: hiroto later gave the same body part to another allied combatant

fact: rin was part of the original team, obito's other friend, so she's someone who could have received the eye then if the situation was a tiny bit different

suddenly it's all "would obito want rin to have the sharingan?" and "we don't know that", obito's decision is now the law, not hiroto's, so please give it back to the uchiha

thankfully obito's dying words weren't "go be hokage"; she would burn the hat

decision: rin can keep the sharingan but can't even think about gifting it to anyone else, since her original team is gone (and minato doesn't want it)

when the uchiha die, rin's first thought is "who gets to keep the eyeballs?"

(answer: danzo. probably)

rin has a complicated relationship with being a medic. as in, she refuses to be called that anymore. when she meets tsunade it's going to get messy -- whether it's upon waking from the itachi mind torture special or not. “no medic ninja shall ever die until they are the last of their platoon” <- all-consuming Rage 🔥

most of rin's relationships are... weird. people think she's weird; she agrees, but their reasons are so wrong. (someone misunderstanding rin? never seen that before...) however she has a best friend, who deserves a whole separate post. who is it? not that hard to guess, but very hard to describe what they have going on. that relationship is built. they could feature in any "siblings or dating?" game. the answer is obviously neither. (most adult interactions to be fleshed out later)

topics to explore in the future:

[meta & story] seals & flying thunder god jutsu

[story] what to do with a sharingan

[story] Not A Medic

[story] from terrible misunderstandings to mutual character growth

next generation

rin-sensei gets team 7: naruto, sasuke & third character (anime only, so not quite an oc). sakura is very lucky to Not Be There yeah, this too is getting its own post later. not much material yet

#pink tsunami au; the konoha spinoff is taking form

[corawithfanfiction]

Russian I Chris Evans x Student!FemReader

Episode 4

MY MASTERLIST! - EVENTS! - HOME!

This is an original story and may not be copied or translated into another language without permission!

The protagonists and events, other than Chris Evans and his family, are entirely fictional and inspired by some published novels. There may be name similarities with the novel mentioned. Nothing you read in this story is true.

Author's Note: The title of the story is "Russian" and our character (Y/N) is of Russian origin, but you can think of the character's hometown however you want to associate it with yourself while reading.

Author's Note 2: It is not written to put any nation under suspicion. There is no racism, just some current news, a book I read and characters from different nationalities due to fiction. I do not intend to upset anyone.

As his sentence takes me away, I seem to forget how to get out of the door. I become stiff. Neither my feet nor my brain will let me go.

Interview? What exactly does he mean? Is he talking about this disciplinary thing or is he talking about a meeting in that sense?

Chris Evans. A teenage girl's dream. He's right in front of me, sitting at his desk; let's meet sometime. I'm freaking out. What happened at school, what Nancy did without me knowing, Dave… I forget everything instantly and all I want to do is shout Evans' name in the isolated office.

His phone, which suddenly starts ringing, saves me from this strange contraction. My eyes drift to his phone on the desk. It's Yanus.

Mr. Evans panics. He knocks over the thin pencil holder made of iron wires as he tries to pick up his phone from the table and I watch as the whole place turns white from the exploding dactyl.

"Let me help you," I say. I wonder if he's talking to this Yanus guy. But he shoves my outstretched hand away in an incredible panic and puts a smile on his lips, trying to look normal.

"You can come out, Russian." His gestures startle me and at the same time I wonder what the hell he's up to. When he gives me a stern look that tells me there's nothing I can do, I realize there's no point in stopping. I leave the room to avoid any more trouble. Mr. Evans doesn't pick up the phone until he sees me leaving. So I don't get a chance to listen.

As I walk away, I see what happened again. An accidental photograph, the Professor's eager gaze, his request to see me, and then the dumb phone call that broke the spell. It all seems like strange coincidences.

As I'm thinking about finding Nancy, I see her waiting for me around the corner. I speed towards her. She grins when she sees me coming.

"Normally, I'd be strangling you," I interject. She picks up his phone he was playing with and continues to grin at me.

"Tell me what happened?"

"You changed it, didn't you, my contacts?" She doesn't answer. But his smile turns bitter. She thinks I'm angry.

"I saw the way Evans was looking at you, and no matter how much I said differently to his face, it was time to get rid of Dave." her hands move back and forth as she speaks, distracting me for a moment for some reason.

"What if it had gone wrong?"

"Y/N, he wanted you. It was obvious."

"You're lying," I say, sure he's taking a risk. Evans' gaze is not that easy to spot. "Whatever." I shrug my shoulders and we take a short walk through the gloomy school corridors.

"What happened with Pines?"

"I'll tell you everything, Nance. Let's just get out of here."

Later, many of the classes are canceled due to Afsoon's loss, and Nancy and I go to the school's terrace, which is never cleaned - or is always dirty in the same way. Some of the dining hall tables are here, and the morning fruit salad smells of rotten bananas, but it's full of students who eat it with gusto.

We find an empty seat and sit down. I tell Nancy all the details of what happened in the office and she looks at me with sparkling eyes.

She is not completely disinterested, except for checking her phone for messages once in a while. In fact, she seems even more interested than usual, since this is all her doing.

She says, "Jane's going crazy!" Jane makes it clear in front of everyone that she's crazy about Professor Evans. It is obvious that the Professor doesn't like her either, but some people's behavior is beyond pride.

"If something happens between us, I'm not going to tell anyone but you, and that's what Mr. Evans would want."

"I'm sure you're the only thing he wants," she bursts out in a cheeky laugh and I tap him on the shoulder to silence him. Did he really want me, all this time? I'm sure I lost myself looking at him. Had Chris Evans never realized this before? Didn't he realize that if he got close to me once, I'd run to him a thousand times? And he didn't even try.

Maybe he was too busy, he didn't have time to hit on me, I thought to myself. I remember that he has problems he's dealing with, he's involved in some kind of thing, but trying to figure out what it is is fraught with risk.

I turn to Nancy, and she realizes there's something on my mind.

"Tell me," she says, and hands me the juice I don't know when she made it. I take the straw between my lips and take a sip, then tell her about the phone call I overheard, about Evans's panicked behavior and what he said about getting dirty.

Nancy says it's out of my league, that I shouldn't mess with it. I agree with her with part of my brain, but I'm sure I want to.

As the hours tick by, we don't have any classes except for two in physics. We loiter in the corridors, constantly buying drinks from the cafeteria. I see a dark-skinned girl listening in as Nancy tells me jokes about sleeping with Evans. When the conversation is over, she gets up and leaves.

After school I go back to the grocery store where Dave works and I think I'm going to find out everything that's going on and break up with him. Maybe I'll break up without finding out. All I want is to end the dilemma and make myself clear about Evans.

There's no sign of Dave in the store again. When Olivia, the cashier, sees me enter, she shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips, knowing what I've come for. That means Dave hasn't stopped by.

"Can you call him?" I say as she asks a customer to enter his credit card PIN.

"I can't, look at this line." He gestures to the line at the checkout. There are at least seven people standing in line with carts full of groceries.

"Open another checkout. That guy over there looks empty, can't he go to the register?"

"He needs a promotion. Besides, it's not as simple as you think." He thanks a woman with blond hair for choosing Darryl's. I don't think she would have chosen Darryl's if it wasn't the only grocery store on the street.

"Oh God, please, I need this," I try to convince her. She checks the aisles with her eyes while scanning the barcodes. After looking for a while, he smiles.

"Travis!" I turn in the direction he's looking, and a ginger boy with curly hair comes this way. "Can you watch the cash register for five minutes? I'll be right back."

Without protest, the Travis boy takes Olivia's place and resumes his work. Olivia and I go out the back door.

"You should call him and tell him to come here immediately. But he can't know it's about me."

"Wouldn't that be ridiculous, Y/N? You're telling me to call him here on an off-duty day." his blunt hair is falling apart as he speaks.

"Can't you just say it's important, Olivia? Just this once?" I say. She doesn't seem to mind my pleas at first, but after a few more insistences, she dials Dave's number.

"I never supported you anyway," he says in passing.

After waiting for a while, he starts talking to Dave. Dave's voice is hoarse and sounds like he has just woken up from a nap. Olivia tells him to come immediately, that something has gone wrong and that the boss wants to see him. Dave makes some grunts to indicate that he's coming right away and hangs up. And then Olivia looks at me. "I'm innocent," she says, and she throws her hands up in surrender and goes back to work. I walk to the front door and wait where Dave can't see me before he comes in.

After a short wait, a man with disheveled black hair and a paler face than I remember appears at the door. Dave looks different. Or he seems to have lost his spell over me after what happened.

I take a step and appear in front of him. There are so many accounts I want to ask him. But there's no point in prolonging the separation.

"Y/N!" he screams. He's startled by my sudden appearance in front of her.

"Dave," I say and put a fake smile on my face.

"I… I'd love to talk, but the boss needs to see me. I gotta go." I grab him by the shoulder as he makes a move.

"Oh come on, I'm not the boss?"

"What does that mean?"

"I called you, Dave," I say and frown. "I didn't come here to talk, I want to leave."

"What?" he asks. But his expression is completely artificial.

"You haven't called or texted in days. Let's break up and end this once and for all."

"I've been busy, Y/N, I'm a normal person." I laugh at his words. It's more of a hysterical chuckle.

"You even write in the toilet in normal time, Dave. I'm not an idiot. Anyway, whether you like it or not, this relationship is over for me."

"I'm sorry, Y/N.. It's not what I wanted." I shake my head in mockery, my ring on my finger, a souvenir of the first kiss he gave me. I grasp her hand, open her palm and put the ring there.

Strangely, I don't feel emotional. Nancy would think I'm hard.

"I hope you don't meet the devil."

In the evening, as I'm at home preparing Y/S/N s food, I get a notification on my phone.

It's a message from Mr. Evans. At school, I rearranged my contacts to avoid any more mistakes.

My hands start shaking about the message.

My mom comes in from the kitchen. "Y/N, what's wrong?" my mom asks. Nothing escapes her eyes. My mom is the only person I can't convince most of the time with my lies.

"There's something going on at school," I say, not lying. When I look at her face, I see an expression that says she already knows. "But you know."

"Bad things are happening Y/N, you need to take better care of yourself." My mom sounded worried after hearing this. Especially about me.

I tell her to calm down, that everything will be fine and I go into the living room to text freely.

Mr. Evans: Mrs. Pines wants an apology, Russian

Mr. Evans: You better not object

I exhale nervously against the texts.

Y/N: What the hell does that mean?

Mr. Evans: It means you're going to apologize to Gillington, or the cops will be waiting for you at your door in the morning

Y/N: Come on Mr. Evans, you know he's wrong

Mr. Evans: And I know you have no right.

I puff out my cheeks and roll my eyes even if he doesn't see me. I have no other choice. Otherwise I'm going to get in serious trouble.

Y/N: All right, I will.

Mr. Evans: Good for you, beautiful.

As my eyes read what is written on the screen for the millionth time, I don't know how to react. Excitement, enthusiasm, happiness… All kinds of emotions, both positive and harmful, flood me at once.

As I'm jumping around in a frenzy, another message comes through on my phone.

This time, the emotions I feel are at least five hundred times greater than the previous ones.

Mr. Evans: (Location) 151 Alder Street, Medford, OR 97501

Mr. Evans: Just one dinner

Mr. Evans: I'll be waiting, Russian.

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