#it felt so ??? euphoric??? i was so disconnected from my own existence that everything felt great. meaningless. no consequences i guess????

[wanderingpeonies]

why is my brain . like this

[gr0ovygh05t]

I feel that electroma strongly conveys the isolation of existing separately from the status quo. it shows the disconnect between them and other robots before their transformation and their desperate attempt to live as they see themselves and as they wish to be afterwards. the rejection of their reality and identity by everything and everyone else around them and how it destroys them. at this point they feel that they only have each other to live for. and even with each other, the pain is too much.

for a more me-specific understanding of it though, it makes me think a lot about the process of me attempting to unmask my neurodivergencies, as well as my transition. before having the self-understanding and the resources to know how I work and why I am this way, I likely appeared similar to some of my peers, but I felt separate, I thought that I was either worse than them at coping with life or that I was something else entirely. They (daft punk) feel this too in the film. they do something to change this, to physically alter themselves to better represent the way they feel internally. this resonates with me as both unmasking and transitioning. they were joyful and euphoric and happy with their existence for a short period. but the others wouldn’t accept them and drove them away for being unlike them, and the place they were in wouldn’t allow their joy. The isolation and rejection of your true self from all around you, and the experience of watching a physical manifestation of your inner self melt off of you and be lost from yourself, is pretty horrible-feeling. this all connects for me to the stronger experiences of ableism + transphobia, and how they can wear you down so significantly, as well as the disconnect with your identity that masking and being separated from yourself brings. i’m sure that this film also applies to other more complex experiences, but I am only commenting on what I know from my own life.

these are only two of my interpretations of it though, and are simply some late-night ramblings of an exhausted girlthing

[hidelias]

A bend in space-time Season 2 - [Chapter 5: On the Road]

[Chapter 5: On the Road] Links : AO3 - Wattpad - FFN This chapter tells the journey of Klaus, Rin and the Destiny's Children to Baja California, in 1961.

January 14, 1961, Tucson, Arizona

« I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility. (…) Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road. (…) Live, travel, adventure, bless and don't be sorry ».

It's both exhilarating and terrifying, to leave with absolutely no belongings, for an unknown time, on an itinerary where only the first milestones have been mapped out. Perhaps it's a very concrete parable of what existence is all about, mine anyway. For someone with anxiety, it's an automatic letting go, a disconnection of the brain that takes place as soon as the first kilometer is crossed. I don't know where all this will lead us, but I'm sure - certain - that I'm loving it.

We finally departed on January 12, around midday, on a whim of Klaus's, who decided it was time to 'Run the World'. In less than twenty minutes, the bus was packed with fabrics, bangs, hair and suede boots. Everyone crowded into the leather seats and cushions, and Tim took the wheel for the first shift. "Get on the Bus!" many shouted, and I quickly realized it would be a rallying word. It's certainly one of Destiny's Child's lesser-known singles, but it'll stick with us for a long time. Klaus naturally named the bus "Priscilla" - yes, like the 'Queen of the desert'", and I think everyone already calls 'her' like that.

Urban landscapes gradually gave way to those of the Texas plains, wide skies over crops and ranchlands. Fort Worth, Abilene, Odessa, Van Horn… The road stretched endlessly to the horizon, amid songs, laughter and nonsensical conversations. As the land became more arid and the ground rugged, a few smokes rose above the cushions, no doubt to euphorize hearts in front of the dawning desert. Klaus wouldn't take even the slightest whiff, no matter how hard they insisted. It's still not my thing either. I don't think it ever will be. (…)

The Children don't judge your color or your accent. They don't care about your height, your glasses, your curls or your fat. They embrace your attractions and respect your reservations. They don't care if you love one person, three or a hundred. They are an oasis in a time even more difficult than the era we come from. Klaus likes to say that among them, 'our true colors are shining through'. Cyndi Lauper would probably like that.

(…)

↝↝↝↝ Read 'A bend in space-time' ↜↜↜↜ Full chapter : AO3 - Wattpad - FFN Season 1 completed : AO3 - Wattpad - FFN Season 2 in progress : AO3 - Wattpad - FFN

I chose to insert an OC - Rin - into the plot of The Umbrella Academy season 2, appearing almost only in deleted scenes. I try to give her an interesting story on her own. What to expect: digging into the psychology of the canon characters, seeing their daily lives through the eyes of an outsider, deciphering what's only skimmed over in the original series. A bit of fun, too, uh?

Any comment will make my day! ♡

[prismatales]

A thousand stars

Word Count: 1.6k

Bingo slot: Stargazing

Pairings: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Tag/Warnings: Fluff, Soulmate AU, Aged up characters, Slight Mentions of alcohol.

Prompt: “Happy Birthday!” “It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.”

Synopsis: “Now I have the stars in the palm of my hands!” That bright, flushed smile as you squished his sparkly cheeks captivated the hero instantly, and at that moment he was certain of one thing.

Here’s entry number three for @bnhabookclub ’s bingo and celebrating deku events! I want to thank my friends @savagetrickster , @dragonhrte , @samanthaa-leanne , @hawks-senseis for helping me out with some ideas, and @fanfic-me-up for beta reading this for me!

Looking up at this vast, starry night reminded you of how big this world really was. Compared to the bright stars scattered across the wide, limitless sky, the both of you were seemingly like nothing but little specks of dust. 

Yet somehow, you were able to find each other amongst the billions of people walking around the earth.

Bodies snuggled together, craving for more of that soothing warmth that could only be offered by the one whom you shared this special bond with. Not even the heat of the bright bonfire eating its way through the wood, with sparks flying above it, could warm up your tangled bodies just as nicely as the male hugging you closer to himself.

“Did you ever think that we would be here?” Your fiance’s husky voice broke the comforting silence. Turninging slightly in place to look back at him, your questioning eyes begged for him to continue. “I mean, since I was a kid, I just…thought that after becoming a hero, I’d never have the chance to find my soulmate.”

His scarred hands encircled themselves around your sides, grasping tightly around your psyche. Izuku’s hold was practically desperate like he was fearful of letting go. Because in a way, he was afraid that this was all just a dream, too good to be true, and if he dared to let go, everything he worked so hard for alongside you, would end up disappearing into nothingness.

A soft, smaller hand laid over his own comfortingly. Making him look down at your hands. Even in the dark night, you both could still watch the bright glow coming from the red string bonding you together for life.

“And yet,” Your other hand caressed his cheek, bringing him closer to lay a soft peck on his freckles covered cheek, smooth lips lingering in place as he nuzzled his face gently against yours. “It was the very thing that brought us together in the first place.” 

You couldn’t help giggling tenderly by his displays of affection as he continued nuzzling your face, before kissing your shoulder delicately. A lot of people may not know this, but when both of you are alone, Izuku can be the most affectionate, sweetest guy to exist. You couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate than him.

Meeting your soulmate was a moment in life that neither of you would be able to forget. Not even once your memories eventually start fading with age, and the people may only remember Deku as a retired number one hero and previous symbol of peace. 

“Did you ever think that we would be here?” You asked softly, looking back at the black sky littered with thousands and thousands of never-ending stars “Camping together, cuddling under the stars as we celebrate the birthday of the greatest hero?” 

He shook his head in response, rocking your bodies together back and forth, thinking back to the time you guys met. A moment in life that he would always cherish since he never expected to meet you in the first place, but as always, fate usually has their ways of bringing people together.

Izuku would have never imagined meeting his soulmate in the middle of patrolling. The memory of the red string becoming shorter and shorter, pulling him forwards with great force, until it made him crash into a girl too busy running late for work, to notice the string on her pinky going in the same direction as her. Both groaned painfully when they fell down together, and papers flew everywhere around them.

You could still remember the way that red string tangled your bodies together, glowing brightly as it signaled the end of a search. Neither of you would stop staring at each other, or even bothered to get up as you greeted one another with a shy smile, and a breathless greeting as your hearts kept beating erratically with nothing but pure joy the moment you held hands for the first time. 

And I’m thinking ‘bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe just the touch of a hand.

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day

And I just wanna tell you I am

Don’t get him started on the first time you spent the night together. He’ll always cherish the way you smiled at him as you held a glitter pen close to his face. An empty bottle of wine laid at the other side of the couch, along with a pair of empty cups. All ignored in favor of tracing inky, glitter-covered patterns all over his face, and laughing cheerfully at his flustered expression for having your bodies so close to each other. 

“Now I have the stars in the palm of my hands!” That bright, flushed smile as you squished his sparkly cheeks captivated the hero instantly, and at that moment he was certain of one thing.

He wanted to spend his whole life with you. Tracing galaxies all over each other’s skins, while laughing at nothing in particular...although that last one, was actually the wine’s fault. But he couldn’t complain if it meant seeing you having the time of your life with your beloved soulmate.

It made your one year anniversary just as magical as the day you met. 

When the day finally came, and he kneeled down in front of you, pulling out that golden band to propose under a starry night. That wide, euphoric and teary-eyed smile as you looked down at him, before tackling him down, all while yelling out “yes!” at the same time you began to blissfully kiss your now fiance, over and over again. 

It made it clear for Izuku, he knew it had been a decision he’d never come to regret as he laughed wholeheartedly by his soulmate’s euphoric attitude. 

So honey now

Take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart

I’m thinking out loud

Maybe we found love right where we are.

Now here you were, taking a break from everything and everybody a few weeks before the big day finally arrived. And what a better way to disconnect from everything, than to go camping together and enjoy one of the things that brought so much happiness to you both.

“Izuku?” Your voice snapped him out of his recalling, and he turned back to look at his dear, albeit worried fiance. “Everything okay?”

“Ah! Y-Yeah! Just, thinking about something!” He may be a grown man now. But Midoriya Izuku will always be that sweet, shy guys from his high school years. The same one that would always stammer whenever he happened to get lost in his own thoughts.

“Babe, It’s pitch black and I can still see you blushing.” He ignored your squinting with a burst of light-hearted laughter and intertwined your hands together. 

He brought them closer to his face, kissing the back of your hand softly, right above the finger where a small, red string was tied around the very same place where a gold ring, adorned with little stars signals for an upcoming future together, where you shall both live happily together.

“Oh! Right!” 

Untangling yourself from Izuku’s embrace -much to his dislike-. You crawled inside the shared tent and began rummaging through your bag in search of something. When Izuku saw you coming out of the tent with a wrapped gift in hand and a big smile, he couldn’t help looking at the gift in your hands with curiosity.

“Happy birthday!” 

When you gave him the box, he stared at it silently for a whole minute, before looking at you with a growing smile. Turns out the gift wasn’t actually wrapped, it was only a decorated box he opened easily. 

And when he saw his gift, it was like watching the same boy from high school that couldn’t help crying over the smallest gestures. 

Inside the box, laid an All Might hardcover notebook decorated with the words “Hero Analysis: Pro Hero Edition” in bold, metallic red lettering. 

He stared at his gift silently, finger tracing the white outline of the letters, feeling the texture of the leather, the material felt, and looked pretty expensive, almost like something only a professional would carry around.

Something a pro hero like Deku would carry around.

“Where did you get this?” He looked up at your cheerful, quiet self. Who only kept swaying from side to side with hands intertwined behind your back.

“I ordered it from a website that makes personalized notebooks! Your mom told me how much you adore All-Might related merchh, and I just happened to remember this site a friend told me about.” You sat down beside him, pleased by the way he looked at his gift with sparks in his eyes.

“Do you like it?” 

He looked back at you with small, happy tears prickling the corners of his eyes, which he quickly wiped away before they could fall on top of his newest notebook.

“It’s perfect.” His arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he gave the crown of your head another kiss in gratitude. “Just like you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Once again, you snuggled closer to his body, lifting your head up to give your dear soulmate a kiss, that he happily returned with all of the love he had to give under the light of a thousand stars.

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your lives happily together, and being able to start a family with the one fate decided would be the right one for him. 

@bnha-ra @bnhabookclub @freckledoriya @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @samanthaa-leanne @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @t-amajiki @unbreakableeiji @wesparklebitch

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Your Hand In Mine ~ Bucky x Reader Oneshot (Request)

A/n: Hi my lovelies! Happy weekend, I hope everyone is doing alright and staying healthy. So I received this request I think like two days after I announced my hiatus and it’s been sitting in my inbox since then. But it’s also been percolating in my brain since then and I’m finally happy with how it turned out.  I hope you will enjoy it too. 

Thanks for the request @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again​

Request:  Hi! I love your writing! I have a Bucky x Reader idea, iydm. R's a powerful Avenger. She has a RIGHT(important it's her right) metal arm. It's rose gold when it's not covered by her skin graft. Bucky is being teased by team&gets upset. He yells no one understands how hard the burden is and storms off. R goes after him to comfort, he turns on her, asking how she'd know? She gently disables her skin graft&shows her rose gold metal arm. Fluff & Angst please!

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader, Sam, Steve, Clint, Nat and Tony are mentioned. 

Rating: T 

WARNINGS: Trauma, loss of limb, mild language, angst, but there’s a lot of fluff too! 

Disclaimer: My medical knowledge is limited to what I could glean from google so if there’s anything that doesn’t make sense I apologize. 

Word Count: 4230

Bucky grunted as he attempted to reach the knot that had formed in his shoulder blade but no matter which way he twisted or turned he couldn’t get the right pressure. He gave up on using his flesh arm and went in search of a tennis ball or even better a softball.

After finally locating one in the equipment closet, Bucky found the nearest wall and set to work maneuvering the ball into position. He had just found the right spot when you and Sam entered the gym, chattering happily about the movie you’d seen the night before.

Your animated tone made Bucky smile.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greeted him cheerfully.

“Morning, y/n.”

“Turning into a cat, Barnes?” Sam called when he spotted him shimmying his back against the wall.

“Can it, birdbrain,” Bucky snapped, smile falling.

Grumbling about being interrupted when he’d finally started feeling relief, he pulled off the wall and pocketed the ball before storming out of the gym.

“Sam,” you sighed as you dropped your bag and began stretching.

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. Last week he disconnected his arm enough that I yanked it off and hit myself in the face when he helped me up. It’s fair game.”

“I suppose.”  

Bucky gave as good as he got, and you all knew neither of them meant anything by it. But today you could see he was in pain, but mostly he was frustrated.

“You can’t treat him with kid gloves,” Sam stated firmly.  

“I know. And I don’t think we should, but this is more than him being grumpy. He’s in real pain.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll lay off until he settles down a bit.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you started stretching.

“You know, if you’re really worried about him being sore, you could always offer to give him a massage,” Sam smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes before you actually considered at.

“Actually. That’s not a bad idea.”

His eyes widened as he froze.

“Wait. You’re really going to offer to give Barnes a massage.”

“Not exactly. But I think I have something that could help.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later. After I kick your ass.”

“Oh you are on.”

After a full morning of sparring with Sam and then a round of weight training with Steve you were more than a little sore. You settled yourself in the living room post shower with your foam roller and your trigger point massager.

“How was your workout?” Bucky asked as he closed his book, watching you roll back and forth to relax your quad.

“It was good. I think Steve is trying to make sure I can bench press him soon.”  

“I’d pay money to see that.”

You huffed out a laugh which quickly turned into a groan when you started rolling out your other leg.

“It would be pretty hilarious,” you agreed wincing slightly when your shoulder twinged. “I’m not far off. I’m at 220 now.”

“Pretty impressive considering you started lifting like a month ago.”

“Started lifting again,” you corrected him. “I used to lift when I was in the marines.”

“I didn’t know you served.”

“Marine corporal y/n y/l/n at your service.”

Folding yourself so you sat criss cross, you pulled out the trigger point massager debating which end to use.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked as he watched you.

“It helps me get the knots out of the hard to reach places without putting me in more pain. It was a lifesaver when Nat decided I needed to be able to do a full rings performance.”

“Um. Why?”

“They needed me to go in as a gymnastics coach for the men’s team. Had to prove myself.”

“Wow. You’re something else.”

You sighed out your thanks as you hit the knot just the right way to get it to release. Bucky eyed you curiously trying to figure out if it would help him, but also not wanting to ask. You had to bite your tongue to keep from offering it; you knew he was apt to refuse.

“Y/n, can you come help me with dinner?” Sam called.

“Coming, Sammy!”

You started to push yourself to your feet but your arms buckled and you fell back onto your butt with a grunt.

“Need a hand?” Bucky teased, already on his feet.

“No,” you tried again with similar results. “Alright, maybe I could use some help,” you finally sigh.

Chuckling, you grabbed both of Bucky’s hands as he hauled you to your feet.

“Thanks, Buck,” you breathed, caught off guard by the spark the contact gave you.

“Any time, doll,” he promised quietly, earning him a bright smile.

Neither of you had let go yet.

“Shake a leg, y/n!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s impatience.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Bucky.”

“See you.”

You squeezed his fingers lightly before releasing him. You tucked the foam roller and massager into the corner next to the couch and slipped out of the room, humming as you went.

“So did he go for it?” Sam asked as he handed you an onion to chop.

“We’ll see.”

 Bucky stared at his hands for a moment; he’d felt a spark when he touched you. And he was almost certain you did too. It was the most contact the two of you had had since you joined the team six months prior, and it damn near knocked Bucky on his butt.

Shaking away the distraction he moved to return to his book, but hesitated as he looked at the massager. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt if he tried it. You had always been very generous with things far more valuable and personal than this. Bucky picked up the massager and settling the curve over his shoulder gasped in relief as it hit where he needed it immediately.

This particular pain had been plaguing him for weeks and to feel it recede was nearly euphoric.

 When you passed by the common room to call everyone for dinner, you noticed Bucky was no longer there and your massager was precisely where you’d left it. Frowning, you gathered everyone you could and asked FRIDAY to call the rest.

Bucky and Steve were the last to join the table, laughing boisterously as they entered. You could see the lightness in him as he sat next to Natasha, and Sam shot you a knowing smile. And, if you happened to notice a massager of his own arrive in the mail a few days later, you didn’t mention it. If you did everything in your power to have more casual contact with Bucky, then you didn’t mention that either.  

The phantom pain was the worst in Bucky’s opinion. All of the other aches and pains he could at least try to alleviate them. But the phantom pain, he simply had to wait it out. Sometimes he would try to work out until his body was exhausted, but still the pain came. So he turned to distraction.

Which is how he found himself sitting in the common room glaring at the television on his third round of channel surfing through nine thousand eight hundred and twelve stations. This was after nearly an hour of searching Netflix for anything to hold his attention.

“Hey, Bucky,” you chirped as you breezed into the room.

He merely grunted out a hello.

“I made tea. Thought you might want some,” you explained as you raised the deep blue mug that he favored.

A smidgen of his gruffness slipped away in the face of your thoughtfulness.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You smiled and handed him the mug before preparing to retreat to your room to give him some peace and quiet.

“Did you – I mean, you’re welcome to sit. I mean stay if you want. I was just going to find something mindless to watch.”

Your bright smile continued to chip away at the pain induced grumpiness.

“I’d love to.”

You grabbed your favorite blanket and wrapped it around you before settling on the couch to his left.

Bucky tensed as you took your seat. His left side was always left open, he felt caged in, waiting for you to remember the horrible atrocities that hand had borne witness to and get as far as way from it as you can.

But instead you plucked the remote from his metal hand, unthinkingly brushing against it without so much as a flinch. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it relaxed him.  

“So what did you wanna watch?” you asked as you blew on your tea and opened the app menu.  

“I dunno. Any suggestions?”

“Well my favorite brainless show is Galavant.”

“What’s that about?”

“It is a comedy musical extravaganza,” you quoted the tag line. “Basically Monthy Python meets Princess Bride meets my high school drama club.”

Bucky chuckled at the explanation.

“You were in the drama club?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Please tell me your performances are on video.”

“Even if they were, they would not see the light of day.”

“Why not? I bet you were adorable.”

The words slipped out without him thinking about it, and you turned quirking an eyebrow and trying to hide a smile at the blush rising on his cheeks.

“I just mean, I’m sure you were a great actress. You’re one of the best spies we have.”

“Believe it or not, that’s a skill not a talent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d still love to see that footage.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“I bet you would, Barnes. But they are under lock and key.”

“So they do exist!”

“Let’s just watch Galavant?”

Bucky yielded with a triumphant smile.

“Let’s give it a shot. It certainly sounds interesting.”

“Yay.”

Bucky was skeptical throughout the first couple of episodes.

“It gets better,” you promised ardently when you glanced over after the third episode.  

“I’m sure it does,” he hummed, sipping on his tea to hide his smile. “This is really good. What kind is it?”

“It’s a mix of chamomile, lavender, a little lemon, and a touch of peppermint. It’s my favorite. Always helps relax me after missions.”

Between the tea and your enthusiastic sing along during the first season, Bucky’s focus was slowly diverted from the lingering ache in his arm.

When you had started yawning, you readjusted your blanket and snuggled into his side unthinkingly. You had fallen asleep shortly after. He left his arm along the back of the couch, and angled his body slightly so your head rested on his chest instead of the hard metal of his shoulder joint. He turned off the TV, content to watch you as you slept. Soon though your deep even breaths soothed him and he fell asleep as well.

 The first thing Bucky became aware of as he woke up was a weight on his chest. Your head was pillowed just above his heart and you were sound asleep.  The second thing he noticed, but couldn’t quite believe, was that your right hand was interlaced with his left and resting on your stomach.

You were completely at peace and he had no idea what to do, so he stayed still watching you. Your other thumb stroked lightly along his forearm as you cuddled the metal like a teddy bear. Bucky hadn’t experienced this much tenderness since before the war. He hadn’t experienced this much casual affection ever.

He watched as your fingers flexed ever so slightly between his. If he closed his eyes he could feel warmth and the softness of your touch. And for the first time since he fell from the train, he wished a phantom feeling would last forever.

Over the next few weeks you always seemed to manage to brush up against his metal arm in some way – passing food at dinner, or reaching for the elevator button at the same time. Dozens of times. And each time Bucky’s heart would beat just a little bit faster.

But then a mission went wrong. You’d been posing as a married couple vacationing in the Cayman Islands as you tried to get close to the banker for a number of the major criminal syndicates around the world.

Pretending to be in love with Bucky Barnes was easy when you were halfway to actually being in love with him. You were close to the end of the mission when there was a problem and you had to drop Bucky’s hand and distance yourself from him. It brought enough attention that you got made. And soon you were fighting for your life.

It had been a week since the mission and Bucky hadn’t spoken a word to you since debrief. Today was the first time you saw him for more than three minutes as he sat on the floor fiddling with the wiring in his wrist while his arm kit lay open in front of him on the coffee table as you, Steve, Sam, and Clint were playing gin.  

Steve was watching you sneak glances at Bucky. You had tried to find him to apologize, but when Bucky Barnes didn’t want to be found. He wasn’t.  

“Gin!” You announced happily.

“Again?” Sam groaned.

“Tally up, boys.”

“Seventy-five,” Clint grimaced before tossing his cards on the table and turning his attention to Bucky, concerned by the odd sparks coming from his arm.

“Whatcha up to, terminator?”  

“My arm hasn’t been working right since I got shocked on that last mission,” he replied without looking up.

“What do you mean not working?” Sam asked.

“Can’t really control it. My touch is too light or too harsh. I can’t regulate it.”  

“That didn’t happen last time you got hit,” Sam observed.

“Yeah, but last time I wasn’t shoved into a lake while being electrocuted.”

The younger man hummed, dipping his head in acknowledgment. You grimaced knowing it was your fault he got pushed in the lake.

“Should we call Shuri?” Steve worried.

“It’s fine. I’m sure I can fix it.”

“It’s been a few days now.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Bucky nearly growled.

“Did you try turning off and back on again?” Clint offered before he and Sam broke out into a fit of laughter.  

“Maybe you should stick it in some rice.”

“Enough,” Steve warned as Bucky gathered his things and headed for the door.

“Come on, Barnes, we’re only joking.”

“It’s not a joke! Just leave me alone. None of you know what it’s like living with this… this thing every day,” Bucky shouted as he rushed out of the room.

Steve made to go after him but you stopped him, with a gentle hand to his chest.

“I’ll go.”

“Y/n.”

“Steve, it’s time,” you told him pointedly.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve nodded after a moment of internal debate.

“Your choice.”

Offering him a reassuring smile, you turned towards the elevator.

“Y/n,” Clint murmured, making you pause. “Tell Barnes we’re sorry.”

“We didn’t realize it was an over the line day.”

“I’ll tell him,” you agreed.

You hurried towards the elevator, leaving the apologetic superheroes behind.

“Seventh floor please, FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n.”

Stepping out onto Steve and Bucky’s floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Go away!” He shouted from deep within the room.  

“Bucky, it’s me. Please can I come in?”

“Just leave me alone, doll,” he insisted but you could tell he was just behind the door this time.

“Bucky, please. I just want to help.”

Silence.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet, so you leaned against his door.

He only lasted a couple of minutes before unlocking the door and allowing you in. His head hung low as you stepped past him and he recoiled when you reached to comfort him so you let your hand drop.

“Can I take a look? I think I can help.”

“I tried all of the normal fixes, and last time I checked you weren’t a biomechanical engineer so I’m not really sure how you can help,” he explained, trying to hustle you out the door.

You tried not to be annoyed by his dismissiveness, but it ruffled you nonetheless. If only he knew.

“I may not be an engineer but I have a lot of experience with prosthetics. I understand-“

“Oh really?” he snapped, frustration getting the better of him. “What the hell do you understand? Do you understand the phantom pain and the way my skin feels like it’s still ripping apart? Do you know how it feels when you have a part of you that you can’t control sometimes? Do you understand how much I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of touching someone with this thing? No? Then just leave me alone,” he growled, though the despair cut through the bite.

“Bucky.”

“Please, doll. Just go.”

His head hung low and his tone was utterly defeated.

“Bucky, I do understand you. I understand all of those things,” you murmured.  

“How could you possibly?”

There was an almost hopeful undercurrent to the disbelieving question as his eyes met yours.  

“Because they happen to me too,” you sighed softly as you extended your right arm in front of you, tapping your pulse point twice to disable the holograft.

Bucky’s eyes widened as the graft retracted into a thin bracelet of rose gold, which matched your newly revealed arm.

“Wha-, how? When?” he stumbled over the questions as he examined your arm.

“I was stationed at a base hospital. There was an accident with the autoclave they used to sterilize the instruments. The steel door blew off and pinned me to the ground, which I probably would have gotten out of, but the impact sent a ton of heavy equipment piling on top of me. By the time they got me out, the damage was done and they had to amputate.”

“That’s… I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” you agreed quietly, averting your eyes and resisting the urge to hide your arm behind your back.

“Who does know?”

“Natasha who recruited me. Tony who built my arm and the holograft. And Steve because it glitched out on a mission and he paid the price. Like you almost did.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

You finally looked at him.

“When we were undercover last week and I yanked away, it was because my arm was glitching and I could control my fine motor skills anymore. The last time it happened to Steve I actually managed to fracture a few of his bones. I forgot that you wouldn’t have the same problem.”

“So I didn’t hurt you?”

His body was tense as he waited for your answer.

“Oh no. Of course not.”

You heart sank to the floor as he shoulders slumped in relief.  

“Bucky, is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly.

He nodded, meeting your gaze through his lashes.

“I thought I hurt you and that’s why you pulled away.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish his sentence.

“No. No. Oh I’m so sorry you felt that way. I didn’t want to hurt you. When it all went to shit, I regretted not telling you so much.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly? Because I didn’t think you’d take me coming up to you and saying ‘hey, I’ve got a metal arm too let’s be friends’ as a good first impression.“

Bucky chuckled at the mental image you conjured eyes crinkling as they found yours.

“It certainly would have been memorable. But I suppose that’s fair.”

You hummed softly as you waited for his next move.

“So all of the things you did for me… the massager, the tea, the weirdass show?”

“All things that worked for me. And Galavant is a treasure,” she added as an afterthought.

Pursing his lips deepened his frown.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he argued. “I never should have yelled at you or taken my frustrations out on you. Please accept my apology.”

His oceanic eyes implored you.

“Of course. It’s all forgotten.”

“Thank you. I owe the guys an apology for today.”

“They understand,” you assured him. “They said their sorry.”

“Still, I should-“

He turned towards the door but you quickly moved in front of him.

“Will you sit your butt down.”

Bucky was shocked by the authority in your tone and immediately complied without thinking, plopping down on the nearest surface which happened to be the bed.

“Now, can I please look at your arm?” you asked softly.

If he still truly didn’t want your help you would back off.

Bucky nodded his assent, swallowing harshly.

“Where’s your kit?”

“On the desk.”

Grabbing the small screwdriver and a set of tweezers from the worn leather pouch, you sat on the bed next to him and got to work.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you mumbled as you focused on tracing the currents in his arm.

“Why do you always wear the skin graft?”

You were quiet as you thought about your answer.

“From a tactical standpoint, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. So it’s a necessity on missions.”

“But around the team?”

“I wanted one less thing for them to make assumptions about when I joined I guess.”

Before Bucky could ask what you meant, you continued on.

“After the accident, things were hard. It was a major loss, and I wasn’t quite sure how to cope. I didn’t think my life could ever be normal again. But my rehab team were great and they’ve made such amazing advances in prosthetics that life was different but it was okay. I found a new normal, and I could live my life the way I wanted to for the most part. But other people when they met me couldn’t see that. It was like I was nothing more than my arm and my accident. So when Natasha recruited me and Tony offered me the holograft I took it.”

“A chance at normal.”

“Exactly. Fortunately, I’m not known for my metal arm so no one questioned it.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile, knowing he would likely never have the luxury of anonymity. Baseball caps and sunglasses weren’t as good of a disguise as some super soldiers might think.

“This is true. Do you hate it?” Bucky almost whispered and you froze.

The super soldier’s eyes darted to yours when you didn’t speak and your hands stilled.

“I did. For a long time. I’ve known a lot of friends who’ve lost limbs, lost lives, because of i.e.d.’s and landmines, so honestly I did my two tours expecting to not come home in one piece. The fact that it was a random accident in a low risk assignment, made me feel like I’d swum across an entire ocean just to drown in a wave pool. I hated that it made me feel weak. But over time, it became a part of my life. And after attending too many funerals my life was more than enough to be thankful for. And now, I get to use my arm to help people. So no, I don’t hate it. Not anymore.”

Bucky was quiet as he observed you, trying to sort out all of the new information. You returned your attention to his arm, carefully ferreting out the problem.

“Aha! Gotcha. Little piece of… there.”

You stripped out a bit of exposed wiring and tightened a bolt and eighth of an inch.

“That should do it,” you announced. “How does it feel?”

Bucky swung his arm in a wide circle and flexed his fingers.

“Much better. What was wrong?”

 “The shock fried on of the connections that translates the electrical impulses from your nerves. It made it hypersensitive.”

“Thank you, doll.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

You returned the tools to his kit, taking your time to precisely arrange them so you could try to think of what to say next.

“How are your tactile sensations?” You asked when you sat down on the bed again.

“They feel okay, but I should probably test it to see. Make sure it works on precious things.”

“Got anything precious nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky cautiously raised his hand toward you.

“May I?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

The silver hand continued its path to your cheek, cradling your face tenderly as you leaned into his touch.

“You are beautiful. And I have to thank you for being there in quiet ways when I wasn’t ready to ask for help.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you know how much we all care about you. I hope you know how much I care about you.”

“I do.”

Slowly pulling away from your cheek, you pouted until Bucky threaded his silver fingers through your rose gold ones as he lifted your right hand. Admiring the delicate craftsmanship and the way it caught the light, he gently turned it so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

You gasped at the sensation. The holograft, much like a glove, dulled your sense of touch. The feeling of his lips against your hand was overwhelming.  

“This feels…” you breathed unable to find the words.

“Right,” Bucky supplied. “It feels right.”

You nodded, swiping at tears.

“Like it’s the way it’s meant to be. Your hand in mine,” you mused quietly.

Bucky’s answering smile was brilliant as he squeezed your fingers.

“That’s because it is.”

~~~~~~~~ The End 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. And @ashhys-lost-in-fanfics-again​ I hope that I did your request justice. Thank you again for the request, I loved writing. Will reblog with Tags 

[lachryphage]

Imagine if the way you conceptualized yourself in your head was also the way you existed in real life. Can you? Can you imagine if you really looked like that? Can you imagine what it’s like to have the name you go by in your universe of daydreams be the same name that people in the waking world call you?

With a sudden jolt I awake to the dark morning. Just like a dream. 

“Atticus?” It’s my name, just like a dream.

I respond with something unintelligible and my housemate asks if I can move my car, I’m parked behind him and he needs to go to work. 

Afterwards, I park behind him more often than I have to and in the early mornings I am woken by the sound of a name -- a name that I already instantly respond to despite its newness.

This is real life. How wild is that? 

There has always been a separation between the me in my head and the me that exists in this physical realm. I never fully realized the enormity of it -- after all, everyone dreams of being something else -- but now I am filling the gaps between reality and my perception and in doing so I can see just how deeply this disconnect has affected me. 

My old name never felt wrong... but I never knew that going by my new name -- my correct name -- could feel so right. It doesn’t necessarily feel euphoric, just natural. It’s like breathing. Except, I was never really good at that either.

A while back ago I wrote about gaining body parts -- as in, I finally got my lower legs! I explained how certain areas of my body don’t register as a part of me, but that’s been changing recently. And I’ve had a new, related experience. I’ve learnt that perceiving myself as myself not only involves hearing and speaking the correct terms, not only regaining an ownership of my current body, not only altering my body with hormones or removing things with surgery... it also involve additions.

I got a new piercing on Monday and I had no idea it would change my life like this.

I’ve been wanting more piercings -- until Monday I’ve only had the standard earlobe piercings -- because I mean they look cool! And I’ve also been wanting a good stabby sensation but I know I shouldn’t do anything to myself to get that feeling because of my history of self harm.

Going into it I was incredibly nervous and excited, I mean I knew I could handle the pain but I’ve never had a facial piercing and y’know it’s a stranger putting a needle in ya so it’s pretty natural to be nervous. My heart rate increased steadily, I couldn’t eat due to excitement, and by the time I was in there I felt incredibly dizzy.

But I’m good at letting bad things happen to me. Lay down, close your eyes, be a good girl, breathe through the pain. I’ve heard it all too much. Braces for eight years -- constant lacerations on my inner cheeks, perpetually aching face from the tightenings and headgear. Root canal from a sketchy dentist on a baby tooth when I was very little without anesthesia -- they held me down while I screamed. In fact, all of my dental work has been with minimal anesthesia because I react poorly to it. This isn’t even touching on all of the shit I’ve gone through with my menstrual cycle, or my trauma, or my bad experiences and subsequent fear of blood draws. I’ve learned how to be obedient and submissive. 

But this time, I it wasn’t like that.

This time, I was called ‘Atticus’, I was referred to as ‘they.’

And my piercing jokingly said something that stuck with me -- he doesn’t do well with blood draws either, “it’s like my body knows that the blood is supposed to stay inside it, but when you get a piercing you’re adding something.”

Enduring pain has always been about taking something from me. Sure, it’s for my own good, but they always took and took and took. This time I asked to have something added.

Afterwards I rolled over to peak into the mirror beside me, and I saw myself. suddenly I was calm, heart steady, and I was happy.

Let me repeat that: I saw myself.

(Ha. I’m crying again. I’ve cried a lot the past couple days, but these aren’t sad tears, oh no babey I think I’m learning the meaning of ‘tears of happiness.’)

My eyebrow piercing looks like it’s always been there, because it belongs to me, because I’m meant to have it.

I don’t see myself when I look in the mirror. Another thing that I haven’t begun to grasp the scope of until recently. My mom said it’s like I’m looking at someone else. It’s not that I’m displeased with what I see, and I’m aware enough to fix myself up, look good if I want, but I don’t see me.

I still don’t, but I’m getting closer and it feels amazing. My eyebrow piercing is something that I can look and say, that part’s right. It feels like I’ve removed something that allows myself to see my reflection more clearly but really it’s the exact opposite of that. I don’t know how that works, but I’m elated. 

I can look in my eyes and I can almost see that they might belong to me. I see myself and I feel like smiling, grinning! I didn’t know it was possible to feel this way. Lately everything I’ve done feels so right, I’m so excited to live and be me. Isn’t that amazing? I never could have imagined ever feeling this way.

Do you know what it’s like? Can you imagine looking in the mirror and recognizing yourself?

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 2

'Beep' Harper sat up straight in bed, what? What? Owww headache, aw aw aw, she grabbed her head and slowly lowered herself into the cushions again, this hangover was gonna be brutal if the hammering in her head was any indication. Think of nothing, in fact let yourself slide into this refreshing and revitalizing little nap, you deserve it! You haven't got a massive amount of work to be done, oh no, little leprechauns are real, believe in their existence and they will do the painting for you, believeeeee! Her eyes shot open again, as a ringtone burst through her attempt at self-hypnosis, ignore it, ignore..it, it'll go away, she mumbled and quite content with her self-fulfilling prophecy, she leaned back as the phone stopped ringing, only to start up again 5 seconds later. “Why did I let him talk me into this?” she groaned as she got up to find the intruder buzzing and twirling around on her table, “Hello” she moaned in agony from her splitting headache. “Hey babe, it's me..Sean!” his quirky voice irritated her already, “Sean, hey, first of all, never call me babe, second, why are you even calling me?“. On the other side of the line there were a few seconds of silence, swallowing his dissapointment he stammered “well, I thought you would like to know that me and the boys just landed at LAX..” hearing him this way, made her cringe, she really didn't mean to rain on his parade, “anyway..how are you?” he barely dared to ask. “I'm ok, just a little hung over..” she said as she looked at her paintings “oh, I wanted to thank you for the webpage, I've got my first e-mail from a possible buyer last night” she quickly added, not wanting to sound like a total bitch. “That's fantastic news” she heard Sean get barely excited on the other side of the country, “It is, I just can't put a price tag on them though, so I was thinking..could you send me a list?” she bit her lip, she hated him having to help her with all this commercial and digital stuff. “Sure..yeah I'll send you the list by e-mail” he answered without too much enthusiasm, this was such a weird conversation “listen, I've gotta go now..guess you'll hear me when you'll hear me” by the end of that sentence, all kindness in his voice had gone, “yeah, ok..well..you have a great time, which I know you all will, just..take good care of yourself, you hear?” she quickly added, she wasn't good at goodbyes, not even when they were done by phone, they just made her feel awkward. “I will..bye” he sighed and disconnected the call, why did he even let himself think that she was actually gonna miss him? Or that she was even remotely interested in this big adventure that was about to start for him? All she could talk about was that damn work of her, nothing or no-one else mattered to her.

Jared opened his eyes, last night's conquest still next to him, what? Oh no no, this wasn't the deal, all those kind of women needed to leave before their scent could penetrate his sheets, he hated having to wake them up and tell them to leave, and with this one he didn't even remember a name, that's how uneventful last night had been. He pushed himself up from the bed and pulled the sheet away, the coolness of morning touching her naked skin woke her up “hey..” she mumbled as she squinted her eyes, “hey yourself, it's time to leave, I've got things to do, so I'm gonna go and have a cup of coffee and you'll be gone when I come back” he threw the sheet on the floor and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He didn't turn around when he walked out of his bedroom, why would he? He had seen more than enough of her already, his phone vibrated back to life while he hopped down the stairs and into his kitchen, switching on the kettle he scrolled through his e-mails, until his thumb rested on the one of the painter he contacted yesterday, ah, maybe there was a price list that he added. No prices..goddammit, was he trying to stall things? He read the last e-mail again: 'what drew you to my paintings?', well that was easy!

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Re:re Paintings

That's easy, they're refreshing and original, ultraclean lines, depth and a little surreal! So, how about some prices, say I would start with the smallest of the whole collection? Surely you can give me an indication of the price range?

If you're not on social media, are you at least registered with any galleries? Are you based in LA? The reason I'm asking all these questions, is because I can't find you anywhere on the internet, what does HC stand for? Henry? Horatio?

Impatient Regards

BJL

Just when she was about to get back to work, that damn phone bleeped again, oh..another e-mail..her fingers nervously clicked and scrolled.

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Re:re:re Paintings

Thanks for the compliments! Am I based in LA? No painter or artists that respects him- or herself is based in LA, that city puts people to sleep, because it has no edge, no challenges, no electricity! That's why I'm living and working in New York, and no I'm not registered yet at any gallery, like I said my assistant is out of town, but if you want a price for N°1 (the smallest 'Baroque') you're looking at 500$.

Funny you should mention Horatio, because that is my Dad's name, and even funnier that you immediately think I'm a man, which I'm not by the way, but I'm guessing you are?

Regards,

Coco

Harper Coco was her real name, but she didn't really like Harper, she used to get bullied because of it at school, Sean somehow always called her Harper..and her Dad, even though she didn't know if he even remembered having a daughter, how long had she not spoken to him? 4 years? Ever since she decided that his aristocratic world was not exactly the one she wanted to live in and so she fled the nest as soon as she graduated from art school. Needing to push those bad memories away, she cranked up the music and crawled up her scaffolding, no external distractions allowed from now on, just the smell of paint in her nose, and some loud rock music in her ears was all she needed to forget about that ugly world outside.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: What?

Hi Coco,

Great name! I totally get your obvious connection to the fine city of New York, I used to live there a long, long time ago, but your prejudice with LA is a bit unsettling, yes it's the capital of fake on the outside, but it's got a vivid art scene as well, it's a lot more laidback in many ways, yes, but that doesn't mean it's got no soul, because it does! For example, the film industry where a new star is born everyday and then there's the music industry, did you know that a lot of the best songs in history were written in LA? this city pushes people to live their dreams, and I think I'm living proof of what this city can do to and for someone!

500$ for that small painting? Deal! I would like to see what you're working on right now, so if you could send me some pics, that'd be great, oh and tell that assistant of yours to get his shit together, artists shouldn't have to sell their own work on top of everything else. Just give me his number and I'll have a word with him if you want!

Gotta run, so send me your financial details and I'll get the money transferred.

Horatio? Really? Now, that's weird because I googled Horatio De Robiano (I take it that is your last name, right?), just to check what kind of people I'm dealing with here, but guess what? Couldn't find anyone by that name either, do you even exist or is all your work done by some bot? Wouldn't surprise me, given how perfect those lines of yours are and how sweet your colours, it's almost too good to be true!

Oh, and since we're on a first name basis already, I'm Joe!

Real life regards

Joe

Ok, so he wasn't completely honest, Joseph, Joe, who cared if it was his middle name? At least it was closer to the truth than Bart Cubbins, and besides it gave him a sense of freedom, like he could write whatever he felt, he could be himself in these e-mails, not the actor or the singer everyone expected him to be 24/7. All content with himself he sat down with his cup of coffee while in the corner of his eye last night's failure came walking down the stairs, “I'll go then..bye Jay..” she slowed her step as she walked past the kitchen, hoping for..hoping for what exactly? That he would've changed his mind? That he would offer her coffee or breakfast? Duh! As if! “yeah bye” he mumbled as he kept his eyes on his screen, goodbye and good riddance, note to self: check with Shayla about the non disclosure agreement!

The rumbling of her stomach broke her focus, usually she ignored it and just carried on but this time it wasn't just her stomach but her mind too that just wouldn't calm down, ever since that last e-mail where 'stranger' mentioned her father, her mind just kept rehashing those last few weeks and days that led up to her leaving with slamming doors. She leaned back a bit to turn down the blaring radio before she almost jumped down from the scaffolding to have a look, oh yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! Sharp lines, great colours, she grabbed a cigarette and lit it. The more she looked at it, the prouder she was of herself, don't get too euphoric yet though..oh what the hell, this called for a little celebration, besides she could do with some fresh air and with some distance from her work for an hour or two so she grabbed her jacket and her bag and hopped on out the door. The cold New York air hit her as she walked to that cute diner a few blocks down, half of New York was rushing to get out of the cold, while she only enjoyed it as it blew the tiny remains of her hang over away. Suddenly she felt a weird vibration coming from the bag on her arm, oh this was going to be perfect, hot soup, her favorite sandwich and hopefully a new e-mail to read from that mistery buyer, life just couldn't get any sweeter right now and her feet shared the same opinion as they picked up the pace so she could sit down and finally read what 'stranger' had written.

[voidbeantm]

the post-concert sadness is intense this time round and i really didn't feel like dumping this on twitter or any of my friends so it's going here ignore me just let me ramble

i really dont know what it is about concerts that leave so many people with post-concert sadness. it's so common and yet it's really hard to pinpoint a main cause.

part of it has to be the crash that comes when the post-concert euphoria wears off. it's like caffeine. the buzz is incredible but the crash is extremely draining.

maybe it's the fact that ive spent so long looking at these people and these performances through a small screen. as much as i talk about how important it is to conceptualise and treat celebrities like real people, the fact of the matter is that no matter what, celebrities never really seem like "real people". yes, they're real people but they're essentially strangers. and when you spend most of your time observing them through a screen, your brain starts feeling about them the same way it feels about fictional characters you really really like. they're real but you never really expect to see them with your own two eyes, walking and talking in front of you. there's a disconnect between how you feel and what you know rationally. suddenly, it hits you that these people are real and right there, being completely incredible. every frustrating facial expression, every surprising and dangerous dance move, every tiny moment of friendship and banter, it's real, they're doing it right in front of your eyes.

maybe it's the fact that for the first time ever, im not alone during a concert and suddenly, my anxieties leave me completely and allow me to completely let loose instead of holding back just a smidge like i always have. ive seen them twice before this but none of them were the korean concerts and ive always been alone and ive never gone this wild before. it's freeing and euphoric and we refer again to what i said about euphoria crash.

maybe it's seeing them in their most natural comfortable state relative to being onstage. the two times i saw them previously were in singapore and malaysia. it's evident that they're much more comfortable in their homeland. which, by the way, completely understandable!! for one, there's no language barrier in the way and they're free to express themselves fully without having to pause for the translator which, no matter what, will always distrupt the natural flow of banter. there's the fact that the concert hall is so so so much bigger. there's the fact that the crowd at home probably just feels familiar and comfortable. vixx and kstarlights have such a close rapport that they rarely have to guess how the crowd will react to the things they say or do. with foreign crowds that you dont perform to as often, every single time it's a gamble. there's a much bigger pressure to impress and do as well as possible to leave a lasting impression in order to grow your audience there. i dont know the right words to describe it but there was just something different about seeing them this time. they were so open and comfortable. maybe what i said about finally having friends to share this experience with earlier applies here as well in a way. when i was alone, it wasnt like i enjoyed them any less, i just felt a tiny bit less free to let loose. in the company of familiar and comfortable people, i was finally able to. it could possibly be the same for them as well.

on my end there was the whole business of sitting so far away that i watched the whole thing through either my binoculars or the display screen. i always forget that im not able to pause a real life performance and go back to rewatch parts i might have missed. during concerts, it's do or die. if you miss it, you miss it. i haven't had the chance to check fanaccounts or fancams in detail on twitter but even a brief glace told me that i most definitely missed quite a few bits. and with the amount rewinding i freely admit to doing, it's not a surprise how much i hate missing out on things.

related to the above, im actually not sure how much of me missing out was actually just me being unable to remember most of anything that happens during a concert once it is over. especially when it comes to new songs. aside from a few key parts of the choreography, i barely remember what the performances for the new songs were like. i can't remember most of what happened. this always happens to me after every single concert and apparently, im not the only one. it's like there's something about the nature of a concert that exists in a time-shifted dimension. everything exists and is held in that dimension, in that moment of time alone. you're only ever able to bring scraps of it out with you. it's like trying to hold onto a dream after you've woken up. unless you write down everything right away, it's gone. but then you see a stray photo, the odd fancam, and it triggers a memory. it's almost magic. and you can't just rewatch the performances through fancams or the dvd even though you'd have a much easier time seeing everything going on but it's just different. you'd be back to seeing them on a screen again. and dreams dont work like that anyway dreams are lived once, the rest are just disjointed memories.

finally, there is just plain old missing them. i already miss them. i just got reminded once again that they're real and in front of me over a day ago and now they're back to being images on a screen. every song i hear, every video i watch just makes me remember that, at one point, they were real. and i miss them.

honestly, this it didnt really fully hit until i boarded the plane alone and set off for home. for the first time in three days, i was without friends to fill the void or the stress of travelling on a time limit to distract me. suddenly, i just felt sad and hollow and tired. on a personal level im probably also exhausted both physically and mentally from the constant travelling, especially on a time limit as well as socially from meeting "new" people and being in the presence of people in general for a few days straight. ren and natsu were incredible and so fun (i will not ever get over what it's like to hang out with actual starlights ever) but you know how it is with introversion. even when you with people you want to be with, your energy will deplete. my brain is telling me it's going to clock out for a good few days before its ready to come back again

i dont have a satisfying conclusion to this mess of words. i dont even know how i feel now that ive bled off all of my feelings into text. it's a mix of sadness, wistfulness, and residual awe because everything i said above as well as having to say goodbye to my friends.

i dont want this long ramble to make it seem like im not grateful for the opportunity to see them in a korean concert. i absolutely am. i will cherish this memory forever. i just. i wish i were both less and more predictable of a person. if i could i want to do it again. i want to see them in a korean concert again. but i don't know what i'll be like a year from now. what if i no longer like them? some people probably find these to be blasphemous words but im not going to lie about myself. interests change. ive gone through so many obsessions in my over two decades of life. given, this is the most involved ive ever been in an interest and the only fandom ive ever made any friends in. but what if i do stop liking them? based on available data, the average length of an obsession is about three years for me. im approaching my third year as a starlight. my projected expiry date is coming up. i dont want it to. but i dont think i can stop it if it does. i shouldn't. no one is obligated to like anything they dont want to. but i dont want to not like them anymore. i dont want to lose what ive managed to find here.

[mckatalyst]

On Writing and Fear

I have a strange relationship with writing, as I do with most people, places, and things in life, I suppose. It’s my first love. I can’t imagine a lifetime in which I couldn’t put pen to paper, or feel the soul calibration that comes from resting my hands on my keyboard. It’s a kind of veritable dependency... one which I have never fully overcome. Much a like a drug, it is both euphoric and terrifying. I’m 28 years old. I’ve been writing in journals and in notebooks since I was about 8. In that entire time, I’ve never outgrown my fear of sitting down and writing, especially when a substantial amount of time passes, It’s a feeling akin to guilt. Writing has saved my life countless times, whether it was in letters, blogs, or journals. On the days I felt the most alone in my life, the blank canvases I filled up with words were there for me. It never left me. There is a clear, distinctive difference in my person when I’ve been writing and when I have not. Despite knowing this, I still refrain. I started thinking today about why that is exactly. Is it that I’m too lazy? Is it that I don’t believe I have a right to put into reality what lives within me? Is it something else? And in the midst of all of these jarring noises in my head, I heard a very clear one. ...It was the sound of a ghost telling me that I need to write so I don’t forget how to be me, accompanied by images of a Dr. Seuss composition book being passed to me. Write “How to Kat,” he told me. It was in this epiphany that I realized where my fear stems from. I live everyday ruminating over my worst fears, my biggest regrets, and my darkest thoughts. When I write, it’s like entering a sort of confessional. I have to tell the truth or it swallows me whole. I am very aware that the things swimming inside of me are poisonous to me and everyone I care most about. I don’t want to see it; to breathe it into reality. It is in this that I am faced with my worst enemy: myself. To write is to go to war with oneself. I’m afraid that once I start bleeding in text, I won’t be able to cauterize my wounds. Yet, in the face of all of these glorious reasons I have to not write, after a time, I have to. It’s a stronger urge than I’ve ever known. Part of me is afraid of you, the reader. I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me... how you’ll perceive me and judge me. Will you misunderstand me like people so often do when I am out milling about during my everyday life? Will you be bored? Will I change you, or will my innermost workings be cast into the void, only to float around aimlessly forever? It’s daunting, to say the very least. There is a kind of disconnect that happens between my head and my heart when I write. There is no filter. It is my looking glass, and truth be told, I’m afraid of what I’ll come face to face with. I am afraid of my own voice. Becoming aware of this made me realize that now, more than ever, I needed to lean into the wind. It’s the only way I’m going to survive, even though I’m afraid that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. If you’re reading this, I’m sure you’re beginning to wonder if I’m actually going anywhere with this, or if I’m going to pull a “Hook” (by Blues traveler) on you, and simply spend a bunch of time writing about writing. I’m approaching the basis of this blog entry. Over the course of my life, I’ve loved a lot of people. I would venture to guess that I’ve loved more people more intensely than most people ever love even one person. It’s a beautiful gift, but also, a curse. When I am in a relationship with someone, I become enmeshed in them... never really LOSING myself in the relationship, but being dwarfed by it. I breathe so much life into the social construct of my relationships, and what society acknowledges as a relationship, that everything else stops mattering. I never forget HOW to Kat. I only forget that I have to keep doing it, or I’m not living my life at all. Recent events in my life had resurrected a dormant awareness of my codependency in relationships. My anxiety and fear of abandonment grabs me by the throat and drags me through the day. It makes all of my choices for me, and defines my character. It leads me down dark alleys in which I abuse and manipulate the one I love the most, effectively weakening my bond with that person and often, myself. I’m so afraid of being abandoned and not being good enough that I begin devaluing my partner so I don’t have to feel left behind, or like the one I love the most has outgrown me. It’s a vicious cycle that has robbed me of the greatest love I’ve ever known, and one that keeps me alone. I spend a lot of time thinking about my failures in my relationships, and how much I have lost. I wish I didn’t, but ruminatively cataloguing my shortcomings is my homeostasis. I imagine that at one point, it was something I chose, but it no longer is. My fear runs my life, as I know it does for so many. In spite of this, I’m afraid to fail and to get hurt, to move on. I’m afraid to be just like you. I’m afraid to be human. I’ve never seen myself as a person so much as an idea. I don’t really exist, and therefore am exempt from everything that is commonplace. You have different rights than I do. You deserve more. You’re accountable for more. I am the exception, or at least that’s what I’ve always believed. I’ve never fancied myself as better or worse, necessarily... just different. Because of this, I often shove down all of the ME things that attract people to me in the first place when I’m in a relationship. I clutch tightly to the idea of a relationship, complete with a rigid and oftentimes impossible set of standards and expectations of myself and my partner. This makes me a hypocrite. At my core, I am a free spirit. I need to roam. I need adventure. I need a soul connection without the confines of a label and expectations. I need pure and unconditional love, and I give it back freely, until I don’t anymore. I’ve begun to reflect on how much I change when I enter a relationship. I treat it like a thing that can be owned, controlled, measured, calculated, even though I don’t want to, and I know it can’t be. A relationship is the bond between people, not the words they use to describe it. No matter how deeply I believe this to be true, I can never seem to be able to abide by it for very long. I’ve only ever known truly unconditional, pure love twice, and both of those people have been crushed under the weight of my emotional instability and iconoclast antics. They are no longer in my life because the poison in me swallowed up the best of all of us. At a certain point, I stopped protecting myself, so I stopped protecting them. I stopped giving them MY energy and only gave them an obsessive, neurotic, desperate fear-based energy. I’ve learned from this, and I suppose that means that these loves were not in vain, but it doesn’t make me any less ashamed. I am clothed in my own grief, woven by my fear of myself. To the men who shared my soul, and who allowed me to share theirs, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry I did this to me. Thank-you for loving me wholly, and teaching me how to love wholly. I promise you, I will be better, and it’s because of you. To my writing, thank-you for always being there for me. To my readers, may they exist and may they make themselves open to me, never change. Never lose your voice. Never lose your faith. Never lose your soul. Never lose yourself.

[transientstardust]

On Writing and Fear

I have a strange relationship with writing, as I do with most people, places, and things in life, I suppose. It’s my first love. I can’t imagine a lifetime in which I couldn’t put pen to paper, or feel the soul calibration that comes from resting my hands on my keyboard. It’s a kind of veritable dependency... one which I have never fully overcome. Much a like a drug, it is both euphoric and terrifying. I’m 28 years old. I’ve been writing in journals and in notebooks since I was about 8. In that entire time, I’ve never outgrown my fear of sitting down and writing, especially when a substantial amount of time passes, It’s a feeling akin to guilt. Writing has saved my life countless times, whether it was in letters, blogs, or journals. On the days I felt the most alone in my life, the blank canvases I filled up with words were there for me. It never left me. There is a clear, distinctive difference in my person when I’ve been writing and when I have not. Despite knowing this, I still refrain. I started thinking today about why that is exactly. Is it that I’m too lazy? Is it that I don’t believe I have a right to put into reality what lives within me? Is it something else? And in the midst of all of these jarring noises in my head, I heard a very clear one. ...It was the sound of a ghost telling me that I need to write so I don’t forget how to be me, accompanied by images of a Dr. Seuss composition book being passed to me. Write “How to Kat,” he told me. It was in this epiphany that I realized where my fear stems from. I live everyday ruminating over my worst fears, my biggest regrets, and my darkest thoughts. When I write, it’s like entering a sort of confessional. I have to tell the truth or it swallows me whole. I am very aware that the things swimming inside of me are poisonous to me and everyone I care most about. I don’t want to see it; to breathe it into reality. It is in this that I am faced with my worst enemy: myself. To write is to go to war with oneself. I’m afraid that once I start bleeding in text, I won’t be able to cauterize my wounds. Yet, in the face of all of these glorious reasons I have to not write, after a time, I have to. It’s a stronger urge than I’ve ever known. Part of me is afraid of you, the reader. I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me... how you’ll perceive me and judge me. Will you misunderstand me like people so often do when I am out milling about during my everyday life? Will you be bored? Will I change you, or will my innermost workings be cast into the void, only to float around aimlessly forever? It’s daunting, to say the very least. There is a kind of disconnect that happens between my head and my heart when I write. There is no filter. It is my looking glass, and truth be told, I’m afraid of what I’ll come face to face with. I am afraid of my own voice. Becoming aware of this made me realize that now, more than ever, I needed to lean into the wind. It’s the only way I’m going to survive, even though I’m afraid that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. If you’re reading this, I’m sure you’re beginning to wonder if I’m actually going anywhere with this, or if I’m going to pull a “Hook” (by Blues traveler) on you, and simply spend a bunch of time writing about writing. I’m approaching the basis of this blog entry. Over the course of my life, I’ve loved a lot of people. I would venture to guess that I’ve loved more people more intensely than most people ever love even one person. It’s a beautiful gift, but also, a curse. When I am in a relationship with someone, I become enmeshed in them... never really LOSING myself in the relationship, but being dwarfed by it. I breathe so much life into the social construct of my relationships, and what society acknowledges as a relationship, that everything else stops mattering. I never forget HOW to Kat. I only forget that I have to keep doing it, or I’m not living my life at all. Recent events in my life had resurrected a dormant awareness of my codependency in relationships. My anxiety and fear of abandonment grabs me by the throat and drags me through the day. It makes all of my choices for me, and defines my character. It leads me down dark alleys in which I abuse and manipulate the one I love the most, effectively weakening my bond with that person and often, myself. I’m so afraid of being abandoned and not being good enough that I begin devaluing my partner so I don’t have to feel left behind, or like the one I love the most has outgrown me. It’s a vicious cycle that has robbed me of the greatest love I’ve ever known, and one that keeps me alone. I spend a lot of time thinking about my failures in my relationships, and how much I have lost. I wish I didn’t, but ruminatively cataloguing my shortcomings is my homeostasis. I imagine that at one point, it was something I chose, but it no longer is. My fear runs my life, as I know it does for so many. In spite of this, I’m afraid to fail and to get hurt, to move on. I’m afraid to be just like you. I’m afraid to be human. I’ve never seen myself as a person so much as an idea. I don’t really exist, and therefore am exempt from everything that is commonplace. You have different rights than I do. You deserve more. You’re accountable for more. I am the exception, or at least that’s what I’ve always believed. I’ve never fancied myself as better or worse, necessarily... just different. Because of this, I often shove down all of the ME things that attract people to me in the first place when I’m in a relationship. I clutch tightly to the idea of a relationship, complete with a rigid and oftentimes impossible set of standards and expectations of myself and my partner. This makes me a hypocrite. At my core, I am a free spirit. I need to roam. I need adventure. I need a soul connection without the confines of a label and expectations. I need pure and unconditional love, and I give it back freely, until I don’t anymore. I’ve begun to reflect on how much I change when I enter a relationship. I treat it like a thing that can be owned, controlled, measured, calculated, even though I don’t want to, and I know it can’t be. A relationship is the bond between people, not the words they use to describe it. No matter how deeply I believe this to be true, I can never seem to be able to abide by it for very long. I’ve only ever known truly unconditional, pure love twice, and both of those people have been crushed under the weight of my emotional instability and iconoclast antics. They are no longer in my life because the poison in me swallowed up the best of all of us. At a certain point, I stopped protecting myself, so I stopped protecting them. I stopped giving them MY energy and only gave them an obsessive, neurotic, desperate fear-based energy. I’ve learned from this, and I suppose that means that these loves were not in vain, but it doesn’t make me any less ashamed. I am clothed in my own grief, woven by my fear of myself. To the men who shared my soul, and who allowed me to share theirs, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry I did this to me. Thank-you for loving me wholly, and teaching me how to love wholly. I promise you, I will be better, and it’s because of you. To my writing, thank-you for always being there for me. To my readers, may they exist and may they make themselves open to me, never change. Never lose your voice. Never lose your faith. Never lose your soul. Never lose yourself.

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: Sword Art Online: Ordinal Scale Review

Spoiler Warning for the entirety of Sword Art Online: Ordinal Scale.

  Some movies are made for a single moment.

  For Sword Art Online: Ordinal Scale, that moment is when Yui appears in the middle of the film's final battle—a showdown with the boss of the Aincrad Castle's Floor 100—bringing with her all of Kirito and Asuna's friends from stories past. There's a swell of music (the tune's called "let's join swords," and it's a remix of the franchise's most memorable track, "swordland"), and suddenly we see the silhouettes of Kirito's iconic dual blade against the backlighting. Along with back-up, Yui returns to Kirito and Asuna their appearances and weapons from the original Sword Art Online game, and the entire group explodes into frenetic action that carries through until final moment of the battle. 

  If you have even a shred of fondness for Sword Art Online as a franchise, particularly the Aincrad arc, this moment alone is worth seeing Ordinal Scale for. It's the moment the entire film drives toward, a rush of near-euphoric glee enough to make me scream with delight under my breath in the theater. It's been five years since the first season of Sword Art Online began airing and nearly three since SAO II ended, so it feels like we've been without new Sword Art Online long enough for it to feel like an event of the past (despite the continual chatter following the show since then). This, in turn, gives us enough space from the early days of Sword Art Online, the time when it truly felt new, that Ordinal Scale can actually get away with remembering Aincrad, both as an motion within the film itself and outside it with the fans.

    I walk into my local showing of Ordinal Scale about 30 minutes before the film began, wondering what kind of crowd I'm going to see. An awkward pass in front of the screen looking for a seat later, I'm reassured that this won't be like some of my other anime filmgoing experiences, as the crowd is substantial—and boisterous. Occasional laughs about the "super easy" quiz questions rotating on the screen pepper the dull buzz of conversation; I hear one girl mutter "Must get" to herself with a vengeance upon seeing an ad for the recently released SAO mobile phone game. And although less interested in the welcome messages from LiSA, Haruka Tomatsu (Asuna), and Yoshitsugu Matsuoka (Kirito) before the film begins, by the final corny slow-motion fist pump from Matsuoka, a genuine cheer finally emerges from the crowd before giving way to silence and the movie's opening moments.

  Whatever else was true of my company for Ordinal Scale, one thing was certain: these people were fans of Sword Art Online. And that was good, because this movie—all else aside—is for fans of Sword Art Online.

  I'm no stranger to being a fan of things generally, but as a fan of Sword Art Online (it was one of the first anime I watched once I'd finally figured out what "anime" was and decided I wanted more) it was delightful to see Ordinal Scale speaking a language only those who care about this franchise—warts and all—can understand. In the moment when we see Starburst Stream unleashed once again or Yuuki's spirit embracing Asuna as the Mother's Rosario Sword Skill appears in a burst of purple lights, the film clearly, unavoidably asks but one thing of its audience: "Remember. Because if you remember how you felt when you watched Sword Art Online, this is for you."

    So, that's the fanservice angle, but what's really neat about Ordinal Scale is that it pulls this metatextual conversation with its fans into the actual text of the film itself. The primary conflict in Ordinal Scale is, at its most basic level, one dealing with the importance of memories—specifically those of Aincrad. Memories that are immeasurably painful for some and bittersweet for others. One of Sword Art Online's ongoing themes has been a question of the validity and value of virtual experiences (although this idea's traced an admittedly inconsistent arc throughout the franchise's various stories), and so Ordinal Scale putting Asuna's memories of her time in Sword Art Online (the game) on the line aligns it strongly with this tradition—and, by the end of the film, doubles down on the Aincrad arc's very serious affirmation of the worth of such experiences. 

  So when Ordinal Scale instructs the audience to dig into their own memories, it marries the meaningfulness of the fan's memory to those that Kirito, Asuna, and their friends hold dear. Whether or not the memories were all good or all bad matters little—rather, the key is that they mean something to them (and, ultimately, carry tangible weight in the real world as well). In some ways this parallels the fan act of immersing yourself in a show, finishing it, and then fondly carrying on the memories of your time in the world with you as you move on with your life—possibly even allowing them to affect who you are as a person. Of course, it's not like this kind of unity between fanservice and themes is anything new, but it's certainly enjoyable to experience it with Ordinal Scale if, like me, you do carry some measure of affection for SAO.

  This kind of textual/audience resonance aside, as a film for fans, Sword Art Online: Ordinal Scale succeeds because it reaches for and achieves a single peak of unadulterated fan joy. It can be watched, thought of, and loved purely in these terms. That single shot of Kirito once again becoming the Black Swordsman who saved Aincrad justifies the entire movie. It was the only thing the film needed to do.

      On the other hand, there are still 2+ hours of film that aren't that moment, I think it's still necessary that I note that on the whole Ordinal Scale is a surprisingly detached movie. While Ordinal Scale is certainly a more restrained, mature take on the world of SAO, at the same times it feels like it looses some of its charm in the attempt to present itself this way. The crisper, flatter character designs lend themselves less to diverse facial expressions than the more cartoony and moe designs from the TV series, and when paired with the lack of interesting character acting animation, the vividness of these characters had in the TV series finds itself drowning somewhat in the darker, grittier, colder world of augmented reality. It's without a doubt satisfying to see Kirito and Asuna looking and behaving like the young adults preparing to head off to college that they are, but I can't help but feel that the overall effect is one that makes the whole film feel rather cool in a way that lacks the passionate spirit of Kirito's over-the-top video game coolness from the TV series.

  There's also a disappointing lack of immediacy in film's cinematography, which relies heavily on long shots that place the characters in large backgrounds and distance them from the camera. Director Tomohiko Ito and his friend Takahiro Shikama shared storyboarding duties for the film [1], and both have proven to be excellent at the task in past works like the Sword Art Online and ERASED, but the direction in Ordinal Scale is depressingly lifeless outside of the more dynamic action scenes, completely lacking the engaging energy of the TV series. One scene that's emblematic of this problem occurs midway through the film. Following Yuuna, Kirito finds himself on a bridge in the virtual world and talks with her. Framed with a long shot, we can only see the barest outline of each character's face, and even as Yoshitsugu Matsuoka's voice rises along with Kirito's frustration, all we see is Kirito walking in a basic cycle across the bridge towards Yuuna. The direction completely sucks the power out of the encounter—a frustrating pattern that recurs throughout the movie.

    Happily, the story and script have a bit more of a spark to them, although the former is disconnected and the latter somewhat inane. It's fortunate that the key to the story of Ordinal Scale is, basically, that for the first time since Aincrad we finally have Asuna and Kirito's relationship back in the spotlight. Despite many battles that frankly don't always feel like they have actual stakes and the script's amusing failed attempts portraying friendly banter between Kirito and Asuna's group of friends (someone says something vaguely amusing, the rest of the group gently laughs), it's the promise that our two heroes made back on the 28th floor that holds it all together. If the final boss battle is the film's justification for existing, then it's Kirito and Asuna seeing the stars together at the film's end (and having their kiss interrupted by Yui lol) that validates the story.

  Which, really, is just to say that Sword Art Online: Ordinal Scale is, at heart, Sword Art Online—a sometimes bumbling, sometimes ineffective, impossibly dorky, and charming invention with nothing but the best of intentions. SAO being SAO, this was never going to be a perfectly crafted movie—but it captures so many of the charms of the franchise whilst also avoiding nearly all of its most aggravating faults. It may be a few dozen minutes longer than it needs to be, undercut its own the drama by putting off the twists until near the end of the film, and lack the personality-driven dialogue that could really have made its characters come to life on the big screen, but it's still trying to be good and succeeding just often enough that I can't find it in my heart to ignore those efforts. 

  And, again: Yui appears, the Black Swordsman and Lighting Flash Asuna return. That was everything. And it was glorious.

[1] Thanks to Canipa from the Canipa Effect for making available his list of the full animation staff for the film. Be sure to check out his video breaking down the film's staff and the paths they took to this movie.

-----

Isaac eases his compulsive need to write about anime on his blog, Mage in a Barrel. He also sometimes hangs out on Tumblr, where he mainly posts his drawing practice as he seeks to become a renowned idol and robot fanartist. You can follow him on Twitter at @iblessall or on Facebook.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com