#but I don’t want people to misunderstand what I’m about
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I want to submit a perspective on "afab transfemininity" from. an afab multi gender person. I know my experience isn't representative of everyone who calls themselves this, but I wanted to at least share
I don't call myself a trans woman, I hesitate to call myself transfem. nonetheless, I feel connected to femininity in a distinctly transgender way. when I first came out, I hated being a girl. I was a transmedicalist and validated myself by invalidating others. I had to face a lot of internalized misogyny and transphobia in order to really learn what it meant to be a man. after I started testosterone about 3 yrs ago, I realized I was a lesbian, and started feeling more comfortable being, at least in part, a woman. it was different this time because it was something I liked, something new and my own, not something ascribed to me. it's not cisgender in any way, it is transfemininity
this being said, I know my experience toward transfemininity is extremely different from the norm. I am not what most people are referring to when they refer to transfems, and there are many definitions of transfem that do not include me. despite that, I do have some experiences that overlap, things I can relate to. my femininity is at its core transgender in nature. my gender now is more complex... I feel like both a man and a woman, neither and both. but that doesn't mean my feelings about my gender are predatory or invalid. I don't want to talk over transfems, I am very aware of my place in these conversations. but I still have a place, and it frustrates me to see you share posts that minimize my experience into a stereotype
Why do you view transfemininity as being, at its core, the experience of being “both a man and a woman” lmao
Get back to me when you start viewing trans women as actual women and transfemininity as actual femininity, and not an aesthetic or a vibe or “some other third thing” apart from femininity.
You “feel femininity in a distinctly transgender way?” Congrats! You’re nonbinary! But that is NOT what being a trans woman is — Their womanhood and femininity is not essentially different from cis women’s.
What you are describing is a very generic experience of being a feminine nonbinary person, and I don't say that to insult you; but to compare that experience to those of trans women’s betrays the fact that you don't view them as the same gender as cis women. Which is transmisogyny. It’s textbook third-gendering.
Call yourself a nonbinary woman- Call yourself whatever you want, in fact. But trans women and TMA people are never going to feel safe around you so long as you continue insisting that transfemininity is essentially the same as the nonbinary femininity you experience, and essentially different from “real” cis women’s femininity.
Also, can I just say that it’s a little condescending that you would end your ask by saying “I’m aware of my place in these conversations, but…”
Like, if you were really “aware of your place” and were actually listening to transfems when we talk about transfeminism, you would be able to recognize the enormous amount of transmisogyny baked into your message. On top of the third-gendering, you also managed to:
Imply that TMA people don’t understand the complexities of gender and nonbinarity like you, a TME person, do
Imply that TMA people creating the language and spaces to discuss our experiences in a way that excludes you, a TME person, is invalidating and somehow tantamount to labeling you as “predatory” (what does that even mean?)
Sent an unprompted ask to a transfem’s blog venting your frustrations with the language of transfeminism, despite the fact that I’m not even the one who made those posts?
Showed a pretty absurd amount of entitlement by insinuating that it’s somehow my problem that you feel frustration over misunderstanding the basics of transfeminist theory
Subtly demanded that I do the emotional labor of managing your frustration, which, frankly, is just classic misogyny
Displayed a complete lack of understanding towards what transmisogyny even is, nor why we, as the direct targets of transmisogyny, need the the language and spaces to discuss it
I really don’t care what transfem “experiences” you think you relate to, the fact that you perpetuate and can benefit from transmisogyny will always separate you from us, and if you actually gave a shit about us and our struggles, you would recognize that and try to be a better ally to us rather than co-opting and redefining our language in a shallow attempt to define us out of existence.
As has been said countless times now:
“Transfeminine” does not mean “trans + feminine,” it is a term coined by TMA people to describe our specific experiences with being denied our femininity. That is something which you, as a person for whom (as you said) womanhood/femininity was ascribed by the system of patriarchy, cannot understand in the way we do.
#I don’t normally respond to asks (bc I don’t usually check my inbox) but this really pissed me off#read my pinned ffs#this blog does not exist for TME people’s benefit anymore#it exists for ME to curate posts that *I* find useful#I really do not give a shit how that makes TME people feel#literally just call yourself a fem nonbinary it’s not that hard!#I’m literally transfem and I still call myself a nonbinary femme when it’s more relevant bc guess what?#those are distinct experiences!!!
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Striker exhaled slowly, his fingers stilling against the glass. He didn’t look at her right away, his gaze focused on the counter as if gathering the words from its surface. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and deep, carrying a weight that left no room for misunderstanding.
"I’m a professional hitman," he said simply, the words steady but heavy. "People pay me to kill other people."
He let the statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone unwavering.
"It ain't somethin’ I dance around or dress up fancy. It’s what I do. It’s dangerous, it’s bloody, and it sure as Hell ain’t the kind of thing most folks would want to be anywhere near."
Striker finally turned his head, his yellow eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity.
"I’m tellin’ you this because I don’t want to lie to you, Coronis. Not about this. If you’ve got feelings for me, then you deserve to know the truth about who I am and what I do."
He leaned back slightly, giving her space to react, though his own heart beat harder than he’d like to admit.
"I ain’t expectin’ you to be okay with it. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out that door right now. But you needed to know."
@helluvaoutlaw
Since becoming a regular at Sugar Buzzed, Coronis had a secret to keep.
No one else would find it a secret worth keeping. People had what she was hiding all the time, and out in the open. Many more than one! It was had by the young and old, men and women, and none knew the importance of keeping it to oneself.
Coronis did. She had a crush.
There was only one person who she came to see at Sugar Buzzed. The staff knew her faces and were kind and polite, and the service therefore was reliably good. The drinks too. But one person had made her a regular, and thus occupied the soft spot in her heart with all his deeds thus far.
Their reoccurring headliner, Striker.
He was playing again tonight. Many nights would pass before, where Coronis would congratulate him on a job well done, politely ask how his week had gone, and wish him a better week to follow. Pure manners. And if the other patrons flirted with him, sending him flowers-
.....
.......well she tried not to look.
But this time was different. A lot of liquid courage had gone into writing it, and she was still downing more of it just to give herself strength to give it to him when his set was over. He reliably came to greet her each time his song set was over.
And if she didn't have a heart attack in the middle....she would have a love letter for him.
......
.....What? There was no way she could ask him out to his face.
Coronis sat, in her corner of the bar. She was three drinks in, strong stuff, whole grade Beelzjuice. The letter was in her best stationary, as honest and artful as possible. And she waited.
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I’m going to give no context and just post this shoddy comic strip about Ganondorf’s nightmare
#tears of the kingdom#legend of zelda#loz totk#ganondorf#link#totk spoilers#in some way#ganlink#this has absolutely nothing shippy about it#but I don’t want people to misunderstand what I’m about#I love it when they are each others worst nightmare#and greatest blessing#anyway#sleep paralysis link
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I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.
The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.
Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.
If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?
Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.
#hey little star whatcha gonna queue?#and before I get any angry anons saying I’m making the argument that both sides are the same#I am not. and nowhere did I say that#and if your immediate reaction to any amount of criticism of leftist spaces or communication#is knee jerk outrage and defensiveness#this is an invitation to explore why that is for you.#this isn’t about anyone on here this is from conversations I’ve had with a few people IRL who have shared leftist misinformation a lot#so if you’re feeling attacked by this post and I haven’t directly spoken to you multiple times about misinformation with you responding bac#this isn’t. a vague post. about you. okay?#I cannot reiterate enough THIS IS AFTER IRL INTERACTIONS NOT A CAL OUT VAGUEPOST#and as one final note. IF YOU FOLLOW PEOPLE. WHO CONSTANTLY USE. THE MOST INFLAMMATORY WORDING CHOICES POSSIBLE.#YOU SHOULD NOT FOLLOW THOSE PEOPLE NO MATTER WHAT THEY TALK ABOUT.#no one communicating in true good faith to ALL PEOPLE about facts uses loaded language more than occasionally#the sooner you learn that the better. and that really starts narrowing down the pool of who you want to actually listen to (while still#verifying anything they tell you)#get higher standards!!!! and read some books or watch lectures about actual effective communication to broad groups without using tribalism#and also. anyone on the left trying to convince you of massive efforts and conspiracies that are anti everything#is also wrong 99% of the time and not a good source to listen to#never EVER assume conspiracy when it can be more simply explained through either#ignorance obliviousness incompetence financial greed or misunderstandings#the end. I’m really done this time. I’m just sick of seeing so many people fall prey to this#shh katie#cult escapee#politics and current events#don’t get swept up in the constant tsunami of performative online activism#election 2024#world events
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I just skimmed through the art part of your blog and holy bajeebus your LMK art is so beautiful and the headcanon ideas you come up with are so good I wanna steal em-
Kinda wanna see like a part 2 of the little angst you did between MK and Macaque a while ago. It's so interesting and I wanna see Macaque's reaction in your art style. (You don't have to of course, it's just a suggestion [idk if i spelled that right])
Thanks for reading and hope you have a good day/night!
Hope this is to your liking ^^
Part one here
#I’m sure there are some character nuances im forgetting but well 🤷🏽#I want their misunderstanding or whatever they have going on between then come to a head. literally just going ‘wait what’#for me I think it’s entirely possible that there was an actual fight and maybe tension leading up to that point#cause I feel like macaque is not just bitter about thinking he died to wukong but maybe some stuff that built up to that#maybe the fight was just the breaking point. maybe they’re idiots who don’t talk about it because they think they’re on the same page idk#chipper-smol wrote a cool theory abt them using macaques ‘you’re nothing’ line in s4ep1. from what I understand it could be a direct parall#parallel to when he said that to MK right before MK regained his nerve and hit macaque in the eye.. since flying bark foreshadowed monkey mk#waaaay back in season 1 (where his shadow is his monkey form in the opening) i think that could be deliberate#and they could have gotten billy to voice an entirely different line for that scene. but they reused his line from s3#in a very specific scene with wukongs narrative foil. hm#that aside I would have liked to hear billy voice the ‘you abandoned me’ line that would have killed me. but that’s just me lol#also looking at this I should have shaded the last frame to make it look more dramatic and serious but I ran out of time :(#if anything I want to see MK try and help them get back together. poor kid tries so hard to understand people so I think it would be cool to#see that happen. that’s what I like about him.. he asked macaque why he was working for LBD instead of accusing him of dooming everyone bc#he wants to and he tried to comfort spider queen by admitting he was scared of LBD too 😭😭#my art#myart#Lego Monkie kid#lmk#Monkie kid#lmk spoilers#Lego Monkie kid spoilers#lmk macaque#six eared macaque#lmk sun wukong#lmk swk#lmk MK#lmk xiaotian#lmk season 4#Lego Monkie kid s4
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First off, thank you for hearing me out and answering genuinely - a lot of people don’t, and I know how hard that can be, especially when it’s a topic you feel so strongly about. Thank you also for taking the time to try to understand us - most people who send me asks like this haven’t, so I kind of assumed you hadn’t either, and it’s good to hear that I was wrong about that.
I can see where you’re coming from on the insecurity point. It can be a little scary, the way people talk about species dysphoria sometimes! But I have to point out, as much as I know people don’t like the comparison, that the same thing could be said of the transgender community about questioning how much dysphoria might be just because it’s them for some people. Why is it different when it’s species dysphoria instead of gender dysphoria?
Moreover, you are probably right that for some people that is true - that the dysphoria came first, possibly from other sources, and the nonhuman or alterhuman identity after. But if identifying that as species dysphoria and identifying as nonhuman helps someone deal with that, if they’re happier seeing themself as a dragon or a fox or a seal, is there inherently a problem with that? I don’t think there is - sure, there probably is the rare case where it reinforces problems instead of deconstructing them, but in my experience that’s not the case for the majority of otherkin. It’s an exception, not the rule. (And again, there will be cases like that in just about any community.) If it helps someone live a happier life and understand themself better, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
“it’s actually hard to stand with my own thoughts on this, especially because I WOULD agree. why not? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter”
I’m not sure I’m following you here - would agree with what? (I don’t want to misunderstand and then start talking about a point I’ve misunderstood completely, LOL.)
“I should again insist that your community is in fact comprised of humans, but the argument doesn’t hold up if I deny that it’s based on self-perception and you are arguably animals in some way. (arguably.) I do not know you better than you know yourself, but outside perception is also something to consider”
You’ve already said half of what I would here in talking yourself through this point, so I’ll just ask the follow-up question: Is outside perception something that needs to be considered, when it comes to internal experiences and personal identity? And if you think it is, then why?
Personally, I don’t think it is. People perceive a lot of things about me that aren’t true. They perceive me as a woman all the time, and I’m not. They perceive, or at least assume, me to be Christian (that’s the default assumption where I live), and I’m not. I don’t see a reason strangers, or even friends, should get a say in my identity. I’m not a democracy.
““Why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?” I would say that is slightly confusing and kind of vulnerable to explain. I think I have some idea but I’m not sure”
That’s okay. Think about it for a while, to yourself if you don’t want to try to hash it out to me (while it can help to have a rubber duck, I also totally get that I’m a stranger and we’re in public here, and you’re well within your rights to not want to get into stuff that’s really vulnerable for you in this scenario). I’m curious to hear your thoughts if you’re willing to share them (even if they’re a little jumbled still!), because I think it might help me understand where you’re coming from better, but I get it if you want to chew on it privately for a while. I just encourage you not to shy away from it because it’s confusing and scary to think about - that’s often when we learn the most about ourselves.
To go back a bit and bring something you said earlier in your response back - admittedly, self-contradiction is one of the things that my questions are deliberately meant to expose. I’m of the opinion that if a worldview contradicts itself, that means there’s something fundamentally wrong with it and it needs further examination and refinement. After all, the parts of a self-contradicting statement can’t both be true - so either one of them is false (and should be discarded and replaced), or there’s a complication producing nuance that’s not being verbalized/consciously recognized (which should probably be figured out in the interest of self-understanding). It’s the exercise of asking yourself, what do you truly believe, and what is false biases you’re holding onto? That being said, sometimes you have to say the self-contradicting thing out loud before you can see it for what it is and pick it apart - so please, don’t be afraid to do so.
It sounds like you’ve maybe had some rough experiences surrounding this topic - if I’m right and that’s the case, I’m sorry for whatever hardships those may have been. It’s clear to me that you have a lot of strong feelings about this, and I can absolutely understand that. And I totally understand the fear of having to flip your beliefs on their head, especially if you’ve already had to do it recently! That’s a really hard thing to do, and it takes guts to look the possibility of doing it in the eye even the first time. Good on you for not just shutting down and doubling down immediately - that’s already a lot more than a lot of people are willing to do.
i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day
Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.
So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?
Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?
Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?
I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.
For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.
(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)
To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.
So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?
The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?
Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?
You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.
#dragon chatter#(blog change as promised)#through doubt you have unlocked sideblog#<- which is just my tag for stuff that gets transferred here from ADJ#also pls forgiv any minor errors in block quotes. mobile won’t let me copy paste (????!?!?!?!) so I had to type them by hand)
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ooh i’m now thinking about the court intrigue part of your dragon au, and dick and jason being smack dab in the middle of a power struggle. bc there’s a faction of ppl who don’t want dick as crown prince; he’s foreign opinionated, popular, and not as easy to control. and so when jason comes along looking like the spitting image of bruce, and seemingly shy and manipulatable, they seize onto him. and jason’s obviously super smart, but he’s not used to the underhand way the court works, and starts to trust many in that faction bc they’re kind to him( bonus points if they have some servants working for them, bc jason trusts the servants way faster as fellow common ppl)
and dick isn’t an idiot, so he sees what’s happening and sees his little brother who he loves but doesn’t know that well, start to befriend all the people plotting against him. and he can’t call him out on it and look jealous (even though he is super jealous bc here comes this adorable kid, who could be bruce’s real son and isn’t perpetually a foreigner, coming along and stealing his father’s love and trying to undo everything he’s worked for). so he instead tries to befriend jason more, while always half being on guard for a knife in the back. jason picks up on weird vibes but has no clue what’s happening bc he’s a kid and the court is filled with so many weird vibes lol.
and jason grows increasingly entrenched in that faction, and then dies in a way that looks like he turned traitor but it went wrong and he got killed (not what happened, but the evidence is very convincing) (the anti-dick faction is also upset bc darn there goes their heir). and bruce and dick are heartbroken (bruce especially since he was blindsided since dick never told him any of his suspicions since he didn’t think bruce would believe him). but they don’t spread the news of jason as a traitor bc he was a kid and they don’t want to do that to his memory, and there’s like a tiny kernel of hope that maybe there was a mistake. but then jason comes back to life on the dragon of the tyrant, and immediately begins gunning for the throne (via attacking the heirs to the throne, tim and dick). and dick is heartbroken all over again, bc his little brother really does want him dead and to steal the crown. jason has 0 clue about any of this and is hurt and confused why his brother is calling him a traitor. cue much angst
Omg the MISUNDERSTANDINGS I am THRIVING
Dick and Jason would inadvertently end up in a downward spiral of hate and betrayal, with Dick convinced Jason is trying to usurp the throne and Jason thinking Dick never loved him and took the first chance to get himself a new little brother. One that isn’t common folk 😭
But also, Dick could think that he could sacrifice himself to keep Tim safe.
Jason wants him after all, right? He might be angry at Tim, but it’s Dick who he wants dead. The crown prince. Because if he’s gone, Jason will be next in line for the throne. And if Dick is smart about this, he can strike a bargain that will ensure Tim gets to live….
#I am a huge sucker for misunderstandings#Dick: TRAITOR! I trusted you! I LOVED you!#Jason: … ok??? and????????? is this about your stupid sugar stash again?????#dick: What? no! this is about you trying to usurp the throne!#Jason: bitch I didn’t even want JOKER’s throne#dick: — what?#Jason: wtf man if you want the crown so bad just smother the old man with a pillow or something I sure af don’t want it#dick: but-#Jason: I am NOT sitting in a stuffy council room all day and listen to old people bitch about who’s grand daughter is prettier#Dick: wait-#Jason: seriously you do not want me on the throne I would lose my temper within ten minutes and need a new council altogether#Dick: hold on-#Jason: Red would eat them. no scratch that I would eat them#Dick:… I feel like I’m missing something here#dragon au#jason todd#dick grayson#misunderstandings
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Something painful I’ve realized about POTs is that it’s alienating. Specifically, when everyone else has a head full of thoughts, when in a episode, it’s as if when I talk to them I’m not there. Mental connections are few and far between, and when in an episode, I might say things and voice insecurities that I otherwise wouldn’t. So when I’m in that position, I just don’t talk to people anymore. In a group, everyone will continue talking, but because it takes so long to piece what I’m truly thinking together, and so much effort to say it, I won’t bring up my thoughts or opinions—and that’s Bad! For relationships! I’ve realized that I have an unhealthy well of jealousy for people who are able to connect to each other—the able-bodied and able-minded. It’s not kind, and it’s not sustainable. Yet, I have to continue living with this condition. No option there. No cure, just a million little micro-adjustments in the hope that they bring me closer to myself and others. A gallon of water, testosterone, adhd medication, blood pressure medication—none of it separates me completely from the struggle to think and speak and move. I’m divorced from my own intelligence and intuition.
At the end of the day, I’m responsible for the insecurities I bring to the table, and those are formed within a situation outside of my control, and so unique that it doesn’t relate with the majority of people. Built in neurosis. Maybe this is why disabled voices are so important. I don’t know anyone in my own life who struggles to participate the same way I do, or if they do, their struggle is as invisible to me as mine is to them.
#I want to be the best version of myself for the people in my life#but unfortunately the best version of myself isn’t there when I go looking#and I try! if I wasn’t trying it wouldn’t hurt so much#but I find myself responsible for this body and mind despite my best efforts to distinguish myself from it#it’s entangled in me#awful awful#I know that if I didn’t have pots or even had a less severe case#I’d be better to the people in my life#more responsible for my needs and desires#and a more fulfilled person in general#so I feel guilty about my disability#and don’t want to share myself with people because they aren’t getting the version of me that I relate to the most#if I could go back to the woodshop and build me different I would#because i struggle to accept the burden that is a neurological disability in addition to neurodivergence#like how can I tell people that I feel like I’ve been walking around with a brain tumor without them being freaked out? I can’t#so I have to either hide what I’m going through or justify it to people because of their misunderstanding and internalized ableism#and often people aren’t even aware that they’re living with that#invisible disability#my beloathed#postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome#pots#potsie#had a bad last few hours at work#and feel guilty about my disability#it sucks#I want to be free of this#fated to struggle. destined to longing for the little things.#disabilities#disability#I hope cognitive behavioral therapy can account for this lol.
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And I’m standing ten toes down behind Eloise
#Ppl calling her feminism white feminism#like yeah for todays standards sure whatever#my feelings on Eloise are complicated but a lot of y’all’s feminism is whether u think Barbie was good and that’s how ur measuring Eloise#like this little girls girl shit is right next to thinking Barbie is a masterpiece is right next to saying here’s my 20 step skincare#routing but it’s for yourself not for men but also here’s how to walk and make eye contact to manipulate a man ;3#like It’s so funny how everyone was mad Eloise didn’t put action to the thoughts#which season 2 was all about btw like I feel like ppl also misunderstand the point of her character and what’s happening internally but diff#and now theyre saying she’s an asshole for shifting topics of convo within her group of peers#when that’s proof that she cannot assimilate the way y’all say she does?#like yuckk#Idk I feel like the visceral reaction to Eloise just feels like ‘if feminist why care about ur dad 🤨’#i was gonna say y’all want Eloise to cut off all ties with her family and start connecting to those of lower classes#but when she did anything CLOSE to that y’all STILL called her an asshole#also you know what you’re walking into when you’re watching bridgerton it was way too early to keep her there you KNOW that#but also also Penelope has been trying to find her niche and balance her family’s reputation with her ideals the entire time#and it does come off as hypocritical and self centered at times just as every single character on this show has!#i said Penelope I meant Eloise it still applies but whatever#anyways#yeah season 2 she came to the conclusion y’all did#that she wasn’t really about it and she should stick to high society#‘she was such an asshole this season’ bc she in fact does believe what she preaches and found ignoring it to be difficult#like y’all are just saying she’s a bad person no she was uncomfortable and response was to be snappy like hello#like this dramatic shift in her character is bc of the trouble she caused her family by trying to stand on business#like when it comes to interpersonal relationships Eloise suffers from the fact that not everyone comes to the same conclusions she does#like she told Benedict she can’t understand how nobody sees what she sees#but that’s not true a lot of people see what she sees#Cressida saw what she sees! what Eloise DOESNT understand is that other ppl come to diff conclusions with the same knowledge!#other ppl see the same thing and choose to flourish within the system no questions! bc they don’t have the privilege to do anything else!#THATS where she needs to grow! the obvious conclusion IS obvious but what to do after is mot the same or available to everyone!#but thats like. the most positive of my feelings towards her it is complicated I’m just being nice rn
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when you draw something just for self indulgence but then go too hard on it and get mad that you made it too cringe to share. this sideblog was an attempt to not care about that and draw things without worry but apparently there is no limit to what my brain is embarrassed about
#tbh? less about the drawings and more like.. i’m afraid to share my visions of the characters i have LOL#bc they are my own and not canon. and i don’t want people to think i’m wildly misunderstanding the character#bc i more than understand and am also invested in the boundaries of canon. but i also like doing what i want#and deconstructing and reconstructing narrative and characterization#and i feel like people won’t know that but i also feel so silly putting a disclaimer over everything i draw of being like#‘oh this is my own thing actually’ LOL#anyways. long winded ramble over how i drew that princess mononoke scene with my vers of silver/gold but im too much of a coward to share#rambles
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my laois rant is i hate when people call him a monster fucker. idk if anything happens later to make this like. a thing. but if people are doing it just bc of his special interest i will kill you all. just from personal experience i think its in awfully poor taste to make the joke of sexualizing something that’s clearly an interest like that
#trying hard to hide my personal experience in this one but it’s just very clear that some#of you are very weird about understanding that aspect of a person even fictional.#then again sexualizing any aspect of the psyche is most people go to move so 🤷#but i just think it’s weird to do it. it happens in the text yea but it’s always clear that it’s like.#the group misunderstanding what he means and him meaning something else. that is theeee joke half the time#okay wrap it up i don’t want to be a mega bitch when i haven’t finished it.#i’m also not a ‘monster fucker’ hater ever but i think its weird to boil laois down to that when he barely expresses that type of attraction#ever lol#okay done
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Whoever keeps sending me asks about the anon post I deleted, it’s over.
#don’t care to argue since I don’t argue or get into shit online with people anyway#all I did was reply to a message (I don’t keep up with people on tumblr or URLs) but I looked up that persons name and saw some familier#folks associated with them who were known for being antiblack here and I’d didn’t want a post done someone defending that on my blog that’s#literally it#as I’ve said#idk this person I’ve just seen things in passing and of course tumblr has never respected trans people or poc#there are always things going around trying to make them out to be predators and harmful to the community and that’s awful was hell#trans women are especially targeted the most and tumblr has a history of wiping them off the face of the platform for even breathing and#it sucks because there’s nothing you can do about it but yeah#I’m just done talking don’t send me anymore asks I will just delete them#I’m gonna just block you again if you try to send me anything I don’t argue with people online and I don’t care to get into any discourse#rambling#this is not what this blog is about#maybe there was a misunderstanding a long the way but you started off calling me names and shit and we don’t do that here#alluding to me being a transphobe is something that I won’t stand behind though just because I did my own quick research of their url and#found some things that alarmed me#I don’t know this person but I don’t want to put just anyone on my blog with discourse surrounding them#move around
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not going to pester the mvp with a rb but with regard to the tone tags video + the bombardment of misali by people saying ‘it makes sense to ME it’s more important that i convey my tone not that you understand it’ i hate to break it to you but communication is a two way street. if the other person can’t interpret your meaning despite you using something that is explicitly intended to enhance interpretability that thing!!! is broken!!!!!
#that one onion headline but ‘i don’t know how to explain to you that people need to understand what you’re saying.#for people to know what you’re saying#i’m not like. fiercely against tone tags i just thought the video was good and the tier list was useful for people struggling to understand#WHY some people have issues with them. there’s much better way to convey your meaning in text! you should at least consider how your#communication effects others#see: the trends of using overly negative compliments (DELETE THIS!!!) and taking on a tag claiming it’s complimentary#bc it’s ‘funny’ when in actuality! you just sound like an asshole#it’s a pet peeve. learn how to express yourself kindly and in a way that people can understand it’s a normal human struggle to need to learn#how to navigate new interactions and adapt to each others needs#digging your heels in and claiming ‘it’s not about whether YOU get what i’m saying’.#fundamentally misunderstands the whole point of communication??????#text✨#yes this is mostly a very long vaguepost of one asker that has been stuck in my mind but wanted to say smthn#anthropology✨#< this counts. i took a linguistic anth class this stuff is relevant and i think about it a lot
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Kid?
Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)
It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment.
You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan.
You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation.
And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling.
Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding.
The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”
You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name.
You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.
Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through.
That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected.
He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”
You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head.
Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”
Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit.
You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles.
Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?
You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout.
You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it.
You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.
You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”
The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean.
There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly.
You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.
You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath.
“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something.
Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check.
You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.
“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull.
You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott.
“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger.
You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps.
Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him.
“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be.
You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes.
Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest.
You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.
You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space.
You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices.
You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”
You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together.
He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”
“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart.
You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen.
Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others.
You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal.
Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside.
“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?
Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear.
As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers.
They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds.
You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other.
You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs.
“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan.
You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities.
You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid.
You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode.
“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns.
“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being.
This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”
His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids.
Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone.
“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission.
At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave.
It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy.
You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black.
“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse.
They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold.
Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen.
He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead.
Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down.
Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue.
Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur.
Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened.
Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash.
They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up.
He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this.
The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize.
You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus.
A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”
Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up.
You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more.
He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”
Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”
He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be.
“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal.
“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”
It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?
Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too.
Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”
He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”
You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia.
Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze.
“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire.
The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”
The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold.
His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you.
He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment.
But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire.
You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you.
“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”
“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”
He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”
You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”
His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming.
“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”
Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”
You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him.
A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#wolverine x reader#Wolverine x you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#x men#deadpool and wolverine#Wolverine
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“The Captain’s beloved…wait, what?!”
Capitano x Gender Neutral Reader one shot
Work count: 2.2k
Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship
Rating: General Audiences
Trigger Warnings: none
Summary: The fatui discover that their Captain does, in fact, have a life outside of work and gossip between the ranks ensues. (Cue silly fatui shenanigans)
Ao3 Link
Capitano, the Fatui’s first lord and harbinger, contrary to popular belief, was respected and admired by his platoons rather than feared. There was a widespread misunderstanding both in and outside the organization that the Captain was a harsh and dangerous leader due to his mysterious nature. However, the people who worked under him knew better as they had grown to admire him the more they interacted with him.
He held himself with pride and treated his soldiers the same way he wanted to be treated: with respect and dignity. And in return, they learned the depths of this man’s strategic genius and strength. His strength was unmatched in combat and led his people well with good decision making and training. They could only hope to be as good as him in his various fields of expertise.
He was strict, and quick to discipline unruly fatuus, yes, but that did not stop others under his command from admiring him. And to emphasize this even more, it was clear that his fellow harbingers and even the Tsarista respected him, whether their goals and morals aligned with his or not. However, this made the people around him curious about aspects related to him outside of his work and title. He was a revered public figure and people were naturally curious about his personal life.
This is where you came in. You, his one and only beloved, the only person who held his whole heart in your hands. Not many people knew of this, but the Captain was a gentle man at his core, and you had somehow managed to uncover all of his being and see him fully as himself, without his title, without his strength. You knew this man inside and out, just as he had come to know you. It was a mutual love, one which even he did not know he was capable of feeling, and that made him all the more enamored with you.
This, however, people did not know. So you can imagine the surprise on their faces when you, an ordinary civilian, came to the Zapalyarny Palace and asked for directions to the Captain’s office. The clerk at the desk looked at you blankly, as if she were staring at an anomaly. This prompted you to try and explain yourself.
“..I’m here to drop off his lunch. So, if you don’t mind..?” You asked.
No response. The blank stare continued.
You already knew that you looked out of place in this grand palace with no Fatui uniform or mask on. But you were determined to make sure your beloved got his lunch, which you had specifically decided to make for him that day as a special treat for how hard he had been working while preparing for a business trip to Natlan.
“Excuse me..?” You said a little louder this time. That seemed to snap her back to reality.
“You cannot enter this place, only authorized personnel are allowed inside. If you’d like to meet our lord, please book your appointment accordingly.” She replied on autopilot, as if she’d rehearsed the same sentence multiple times.
“I’m sorry, I know you have your duties, but I’m here just to drop off his lunch. You can check with him yourself if you’d like..”
“He’s busy at the moment, please leave your package here and we will deliver it to him.” She replied. It seemed like you were being studied like a suspicious person who was attempting to sneak in.
Fair enough.. you thought. I was hoping I would get to spend a few minutes with him and see how he was holding up at work but that can wait till he’s home. And she’s not wrong, I did drop by without notice, so it makes sense for them to be suspicious.
Fatui soldiers passing by had also been glancing at the ongoing conversation at the front desk, eyeing the lunch box wrapped in patterned cloth in your hands with raised eyebrows. You decided to leave the food there, getting one last word in before leaving.
“If you could, please make sure it reaches him soon. It’s his favorite meal and I would prefer it didn’t go cold before he ate it.”
And then everyone watched as your ordinary self left, unaware of the number of eyes on you.
…
A pyroslinger skirmisher stationed near the entrance asked dumbfoundedly, “Did..did they just say that was the Captain’s favorite meal? Our lord harbinger?”
A cryogunner skirmisher who had also watched the whole thing go down as he clocked in asked another question right after, in the same state of confusion as the previous fatuus. “..Has anyone seen them around before? They don’t look like someone who would be seen standing next to Lord Capitano.”
And as the just as confused clerk left the scene towards his office with your goods in hand, excited chatter filled the halls.
Chaos would be the right word for it. You had left chaos in your wake with a simple visit to his workplace.
…
That night, as you and Capitano settled in to relax in your shared home after a long day of work, you asked him how his lunch was.
“It was delicious, my love.” He replied, gently caressing your face with his hands while looking down at you through his mask. “It felt like a treat to have your home cooked meal at work. You didn’t have to, but thank you. It made my day.”
You smiled and took his hands in yours as you nuzzled into his touch. “I’m glad you liked it. I was going to give it to you myself but I couldn’t enter the place.”
“You should visit more often. I’ll let the security personnel know to let you enter so you can come and go as you like.” He paused, clearing his throat. “..Seeing you in the middle of a long day would bring me relief.”
You felt slightly flushed at his straightforward choice of words. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being so..open with me. But I like it, of course. I would like that as long as I’m not disturbing you at work.”
Capitano chuckled. It was like the angels decided to bless you today, really. “I will always make time for you, my love. Just as you do for me.”
You beamed. “Okay, okay, let’s get some sleep now, Mr. Loverman. We still have work tomorrow in case you’re forgetting.”
A kiss on the forehead and the rustling of sheets was all you heard before you were whisked away to dreamland.
…
Unbeknownst to you and Capitano, however, word about you spread like wildfire across the next few days between the excited fatui soldiers. Some from even the different departments under the other harbingers might’ve heard. The person who looked like a civilian, dropping lunch packed in pretty cloth for their Lord did not go unnoticed.
This was the only time someone unrelated to work had been seen asking for their Captain and questions about your relation to him were on the tip of everyone’s tongue during break times.
Two fatuus gossiped as they watched the Captain spar in training with his fellow soldiers, admiration evident in their eyes.
“Someone dropped off lunch for him? I thought he would be too busy having meals with high rankers from across Teyvat.”
And after a short pause the other replied, “Dude, hold on, does he even eat? I thought he was superhuman or something.”
“I know you’re dumb, but I didn’t know you were that dumb, my guy.”
“Hey! Just saying… anyway, are we even sure the people weren’t hallucinating when they saw the person drop lunch off for him?”
“I heard it was his favorite meal, freshly cooked, apparently. Who knows, man? Maybe it was a fan or something. Our lord does have a pretty big following, y’know.” The fatuus stated proudly.
Their lively chatter continued until they were called back into training.
…
A few days later, as soon as you found the time, you decided to visit Capitano at work with yet another home cooked meal. You wanted to make most of your time with him before he traveled to Natlan and having meals together would be a good way to wind down a little.
You entered the palace yet again, determined to meet him this time. It should be fine, right? He did say he would inform them..
And as you had hoped so, he did, in fact, inform them. As soon as the same clerk from before saw you, it seemed like her eyes were bulging out of her sockets. All you had to do was reach the desk and she confirmed your name and led you to the training grounds, where he was currently working. It seemed like some sort of training session was in the works, with all kinds of combat taking place between the soldiers in the distance.
Before you could ask her if you were even allowed to enter this place, she bowed and hurried back in the direction of the front desk. The strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you but now you had to find your way to Capitano across the opposite side of the field. Since you were here at last, why not just see things through?
The middle of the field was the most densely occupied with various people fighting in different groups, while what you recognised as skirmishers were practicing their aim at dummy targets on the right side. The soldiers were hard at work even in the harsh everlasting winter of Snezhnaya. The left side of the field, however, seemed less crowded compared to the rest as people seemed to be setting up their gear or resting. Your Captain, opposite to you across the field, was busy conversing with a group of soldiers who seemed to be listening to him attentively.
You decided your best option was to take the left side. It would be easier to walk through the calm atmosphere over there.
As you made your way through the crowd, people started to notice you. They were pretty intimidating with their weapons and muscled bodies at display so you decided to be extra careful to not bump into anyone and quickly made your way across, and as you got closer, Capitano’s voice became clear.
“The heat in Natlan will be unbearable. You will be stationed in the wild all day, so make sure you have the appropriate supplies to get you through the day. It is of the utmost importance that...what, what is it? Why are you all staring at me like that?”
The group’s attention shifted from him to you, as you stood behind him and tapped his shoulder.
“Capitano, do you have a moment..?” You asked as he turned around, his armor clinking from the movement.
“Oh, my love!” He exclaimed in a soft voice. “What brings you here? Hold on, let's get you back inside. You’ll catch a cold here.”
The group (and everyone nearby) watched in complete awe as his demeanor from before completely switched from authoritative to somewhat… joyfull? Was Lord Capitano being affectionate?
“I brought you lunch, but I can leave it in your office if you’re busy right now.” You said hurriedly, not wanting to keep him busy.
“No, that won’t do, my love.” He took the package from you and placed his hand on your back. “Eat with me inside.”
He then turned back to the group, who jolted straight up at his sudden change. “Finish the supply preparations once you’re done training. All of you are dismissed.”
“Y-yes, my lord!” They replied in unison and bowed. And yet again, they watched in awe as he guided you back inside the palace, ever so gently, one hand on your back and the other carrying a box wrapped up in a floral patterned cloth. A stark contrast to his all black and blue outfit.
…
As soon as both of you were out of sight, chaos erupted yet again, more loudly this time, with multiple voices talking over the other.
“”My love?” Did he just call them “my love?” Did I hear that right?!”
“What was that? What did we just witness?”
“That was so romantic, holy shit! Was that the same person we take orders from everyday? What the hell?!”
“DID THE LORD HARBINGER JUST… GET VISITED BY THEIR SPOUSE?”
“I thought that ring on his finger was for fashion…”
And that is how they found out that their beloved Captain, who seemed to have no soul outside of his work, was a married man with a loving spouse.
This proceeded to be the hottest gossip in the Fatui for the rest of the month, until they discover more about you from another future visit.
…
BONUS:
Sitting in the privacy of his office, you enjoyed your meal together.
“..You seem to work with very strange people, Capitano.” You said to him.
“Do I? How so?” He asked before you fed him a bite.
“Hm.. actually, nevermind. It would be even stranger if they weren’t strange, considering they work with you.” You chuckled.
You enjoyed your time together and went back home, leaving your beloved in confusion from your conversation, and the sight of you fondly feeding him for him to think about for the rest of the day.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#my writing#genshin fanfic#fatui capitano#capitano#capitano x reader#capitano x you#fatui harbingers#genshin impact fatui#fatui x reader#fluff#genshin harbingers#genshin fluff
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For @ace-in-disgrace and their prompt: Danny gets mistaken as the love child of the disasters known as Wolverine and Deadpool.
Okay, it was not Danny's fault, he swears!
He was just experimenting with his ice, playing around with some of the younger yetis in the Far Frozen for fun. So shaping his ice to cover his hands to copy the paws of the others and seeing how well he could cut through solid hard frozen ice was just a game. The rough housing was to be expected, everyone tossing each other to see how far they could be thrown was fun.
Being picked up and tossed at the right exact moment a portal opened up was not fun or expected and he blamed Clockwork. The entity had to be responsible somehow for him not being able to enjoy a day of hanging out with Frostbite and the others.
Landing right in the middle of a what looked like a swat happening in an abandoned warehouse, armored people instantly aiming their rifles at him as he stood up wasn’t even surprising given his luck.
Fair though, he was currently looking more on the feral side to match his playmates then his normal ghost form.
“Hey, what’s with hostility? Can’t someone just pop in somewhere without-“, and he was shot in the shoulder, cutting his sentence off, “rude.”
It was just a regular bullet, so it was easy for his form to just…push it out and heal the hole up.
One of the men reached up to touch a device attached on his ear, “Unknown possible mutant has breached the facilities, age around 12-15, regeneration showed, animal like features-“
“You know it’s really rude to talk about someone like that to their face, no manners at all.”
“Unfortunately satirical.”
There was a crash from above as red and yellow forms busted through the glass, the guns swinging their aim at the two men landed.
“Sassiness is always welcomed!”, the red man had his own guns out and was already firing as he talked.
Danny had decided to dodge over to a pile of crates as all the attention was on the new intruders, eyes wide as an arc blood barely missed him as the one in yellow unsheathed long blades from his knuckles.
He glanced at his own hands, he couldn’t make a working gun from ice but…concentrating…he slowly watched as ice built up into copies, looking very much like it was growing from his skin.
An armored body was flung his way and he instinctual reacted…there were now two halves of a one man and he was covered in the viscera.
He froze…did he…oh…oh no…he had to go, he had to go now.
“Ope, looks like someone's first kill! Look at you Jack Frost,” the red guy with guns was now standing above him on a bigger crate, waving down at the teen, “awe, tiny puppy claws!”
Danny took a swing at the crate, watching as it collapsed and the man fell, laughing the entire time he went down.
He quickly turned to run, only to run into a wide chest where he promptly bounced off and landed ass first on the floor, “What in the-I have literally ran into steel walls softer then you.”
Claw man snorted as he reached down and picked Danny up by the scruff, “You alright kid?”
Said kid just hissed at him.
Claws was chuckling, “Cute, now put back your claws, I think it’s time for a chat.”
“Is it finally our turn for the found family and misunderstandings trope,” the red man was back and had swaggered up to the other two, an arm being thrown over his partners shoulders, “Hi, there and welcome, I’m Deadpool and this is Wolverine and we’re your new dads.”
“No.”
“No?”
Danny smiled, all sharp teeth, “No,” and promptly went invisible and intangible, escaping out of the warehouse while he could, leaving the other two behind.
He had to find a portal home.
Wade went limp, using Logan as a brace, “But I wanted to pull a ‘Batman’…”
The response was a snort and Wolverine sniffing his own hand, growling as he took the child’s scent in, “Don’t know what your talking about but, I can track him down, we probably need to before more of these fucks show up and get their hands on him.”
Hope you enjoyed it!
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