#my special interest is like people and life and all the oddities I can find in there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluejaysandblackbats · 8 months ago

Text

Space Oddity

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (Fab Five)

Summary: Garth grew up in a carnival freakshow, and he never thought about the world outside the glass walls of the Aquarium until a group of kids befriended him. Their love and interest in finding his people might be the key to escaping the silent horrors of his home life at the carnival.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Garth of Shayeris, Donna Troy, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Original Character(s)

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tags: Carnival AU, Developing Friendships, Rescue, 60’s AU, 70’s AU, No Capes AU, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Lies, Escape, Childhood Memories, Team Bonding, Fish out of Water, Tiny Garth, Beaches, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Road Trip, First Person POV, POV Garth of Shayeris

Chapter Eight: The Little Mermaid

While Walter cut my hair, I read a book he brought me. “I know it’s a children’s book of fairytales, but there’s a story about a girl from the ocean. She fell—. You should read that one first,” Walter explained as he pointed to the title in the table of contents. “The Little Mermaid”.

I turned to the story and read silently while I listened to the sound of Walter’s scissors near my ears. He turned me around in his spinning chair and lifted my chin with his knuckle. “You’re almost ready for your first shave… You’ve grown up so much,” Walter smiled, “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. I’m on the last page of the story… But, while I’m finishing up, can I ask you something? What do you think I am?” I questioned.

“I don’t know… I’m starting to believe you might be magical. Something that looks human but isn’t… I thought you’d like that story,” Walter replied. I nodded. “Garth, how’s that new trick coming along?”

I shut my eyes and held out my left hand. The water came out of the tank in a long stream, and I fed it into my pool. “It doesn’t take as much concentration now, but I can’t explain how it feels. I can—. It’s like I know where it’s going with my eyes closed. Have you spoken to Roy?” I asked. Walter shook his head.

I hadn’t heard from Roy since that night. I wondered if I scared him off. “He probably went back to school—.”

Someone knocked on the backdoor. “Garth, shake that hair off and hop in your tank,” Walter whispered. I obeyed, watching from behind the glass as he let Roy in. I poked my head out of the tank. “I’ll leave you kids to it. I’ll knock if I see Fisher coming.”

“Thanks, Walter,” Roy replied.

I was so excited that I shot out of the tank and ran into his arms. I hadn’t seen him in weeks. “I didn’t think you were coming back. I read a story about this princess, she was from the ocean like me, and she fell in love, but—. What if I turn into seafoam like—?”

“Hey. Slow down… Sorry, Garth. I took the first flight after school. I’ll be here all weekend, though… And uh—. I talked to Donna—. And—... Well—.” Roy kissed me.

“Huh—. Roy—.”

“Don’t think too much of it. I just—. I think you’re a groovy dude, Garth… And I’d do anything for ya,” Roy smiled, “Wait right here…” Roy ran outside and returned with a record player. I didn’t get to listen to music much, so it always felt special, but something seemed different that night. He put the record on and held his arms out. I cocked my head. “Right… You haven’t—. Do you wanna dance?”

I hugged him, and he chuckled. “Sorry… I don’t know how to—.”

Roy shook his head and took my hands, placing them on his shoulders. He whispered directions of where to step, and once I caught on, I looked up, and we met eyes. I held my breath, and Roy chuckled. “Are you doing this because you feel bad for me?” I asked.

“I respect you too much to pity you, Garth. I’m doing this ‘cause I wanna do it,” Roy replied, “Maybe I—. Maybe I missed you. Maybe I didn’t—. I didn’t know what to do when you—. I get why you like Donna so much. She’s amazing. She’s beautiful, intelligent, compassionate—.”

“You’re not like anyone else. I didn’t like you when we met, but you were so kind that I—. All these feelings snuck up on me,” I interrupted. Roy nodded, taking my hands and spinning me around. “It isn’t strange for you?”

“Nope… It’s the seventies, Garth… And we were friends first. It’s not hard to fall for a friend,” Roy replied, “I talked to Donna for a while. She understood. I didn’t think Donna would. I felt weird explaining, but she said she could understand how I felt… But Donna comes from somewhere where they love different.”

“Walter says there aren’t many people like me in that aspect,” I whispered. Roy ran a finger down my gills, and my ears warmed up. I shut my eyes.

“Does that hurt?” Roy asked in a whisper.

“No,” I replied. Roy leaned forward, and I could feel his lips brush my gills. My breath hitched as I tried to keep my gills from fluttering.

“How about that?” Roy questioned. He kissed my gills and then my throat and my gills on the other side. I pulled away and sat down on the bench. “Sorry, I—.”

“It didn’t hurt… I got dizzy,” I mumbled, “This is happening so fast.”

“Yeah? I can ease up,” Roy replied as he sat beside me. We held hands in silent contemplation.

Almost thirty minutes passed before Roy spoke again. “You’re a lot like Donna,” he whispered.

“You’re kiddin’,” I scoffed.

“She told me—. Well, Donna loved you first. I would’ve been jealous if I didn’t feel the same. I—.” I felt weak and pressed my face into his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I need to take a dip soon,” I mumbled. Roy nodded.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” Roy asked.

“Nothing. I think—. I’m tired,” I replied as I wiped my tears away. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Roy replied. I grabbed his shirt desperately, wanting to be brave enough to reciprocate his affectionate kisses. I knew I wouldn’t know how to kiss him if I tried.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Roy asked. I nodded. “You can kiss me. It’s okay.”

I pecked Roy’s lips, and he chuckled. “Was that wrong? Did I do it wrong?” I asked. Roy leaned forward, parting his lips.

“It’s like a conversation. It’s just—. You just kiss me,” Roy replied. We kissed, and I tried to kiss his neck like he kissed mine. I don’t know if I did it as well as he did.

Roy took his hands and cradled my face, wiping my tears with his thumbs. “Roy, thank you,” I mumbled. He smiled.

“It’s all love, man. You’re loved,” Roy grinned, “Get in your water.”

I nodded and climbed into my tank, watching him leave from behind the glass. “I love you, Roy,” I whispered in the water. I did a backflip in the water and giggled once he left the Aquarium. Walter returned and knocked on the glass. I collected myself before swimming to the surface and looking down from my tank.

“What’d you two kids get up to while I was outside?” Walter questioned.

I could feel myself blushing. “Walter… I won’t turn into seafoam. I’ll be a human. Just you wait!” I shouted before plunging back into the water. It felt like electricity in my body. I hadn’t been that excited since Eunice was alive. Then, it washed away in one quick moment. I resurfaced, frowning as I asked Walter a question. “Eunice isn’t coming back, is she? Dead people don’t come to life again… Do they?”

“No, Garth… I don’t think they do. Do you miss her?” Walter questioned.

“I still want her. I still feel like a baby when I think of her,” I confessed, “She was my comfort. I want to feel that way again.”

“Eunice talked about you all the time. You were her baby. She adored you… Hold onto that,” Walter whispered, “She’d want you to be happy even without her.” That advice stuck with me.

2 notes · View notes

yell0wsalt · 1 year ago

Text

New Fic: More Than You Know

Rating: T

Characters: Mako (gen)

Word Count: 2045

Summary: Get in the robot, Mako

full fic below:

Buzzing cicadas rang in people’s ears, the air thick with humidity, and the ground was so hot, if someone looked close enough, they could almost spy waves of heat emanating from the sidewalk. Without a question summer was at its peak. A heavy drop of sweat trailed down Mako’s back that he futilely tried to blot away with his t-shirt. It was already disgustingly damp.

Silently pondering to himself as he shielded his eyes from the sun, Mako found the idea of getting something refreshing to be an enticing one. The icy chill of the drink contradicting the blazing summer heat... He could picture it already and licked his chapped lips in anticipation.

Luckily, he didn’t have to go too far as there was a shopping square nearby. Dragon Flats Market. Dragon Flats was a pop up marketplace in downtown Republic City on the weekends that had a slew of both random and regularly scheduled vendors who serve all sorts of local treats, goods, and knick knacks.

He didn’t have to consider any more, feet moving of their own volition to the nearest stand.

A purchase of a frosty blood orange strawberry blended drink later from The Misty Palms, Mako was brought back to life and in the mood to mosey about the rest of the shopping square to see what kind of curios piqued his interests today.

Halfway through his stride he paused in front of a stand. A Shrew Corvid’s Collection. Mako raised a curious brow before taking a long draw of his smoothie, polishing it off. Haven’t checked out this stall before. I wonder what they’ve got…

“Your curiosity here can only be satisfied from so far, young man.” The old shopkeeper perked up from behind the table in greeting and extended a weathered hand, beckoning him closer. “Come, come! Would you care to see what A Shrew Corvid’s Collection may have for you?”

A quick hum in thought before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Sure, why not.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Not exactly. Mainly wandering the marketplace to see what’s available today.”

“Well, be my guest and see what resonates with you.” They swept a hand to gesture to the several bins laid out on the table between them.

Mako scoped out the baskets and trays full of random oddities laid out in front of him. There was no structure in their organization. Just chaos. It made one of his eyebrows twitch. Regardless, he decided to take a breath before reaching a hand into one of the bins ahead of him to pull out…

“A watch?” Mako turned his head curiously.

Structurally speaking it seemed like one of those retro digital watches. But it was bulkier than typical, appeared to be non-functional based on how old the parts looked, and to be frank, it had an unappealing decades old design. Yet, Mako couldn’t convince himself to put it down, suspending it mid-air in front of him to inspect it all around.

“Ahh, I see you’ve found a little treasure,” the shopkeeper remarked in appraisal.

“Treasure?” shifting his head to the side, breaking his object of focus from the watch to the shopkeeper. “What do you mean by that? Is there anything special behind it?”

They snickered. “That is something you’ll have to find out for yourself. Just as much as you find items of interest, they also find you.” Punctuated with a sly smile and an exaggerated wink.

Eyes narrowed suspiciously at the shopkeep before returning his gaze back onto the watch. “Oh-kayyy. How much for this, anyways?”

A hand wave dismissed his question. “For you? On the house. Even better if you can get it functional.”

He smiled politely. “Well then, thank you very much. I think I’ll take it.”

They bowed their head courteously. “No, thank you.”

****

Back at home in his office space, after too long of a time fiddling around with the watch’s buttons, wires, and screen, Mako pushed himself away from his desk in a bout of frustration.

“Gah, this thing is a hunk of junk, I don’t even know why I bought the stupid watch.” Well, it was for free, but that’s besides the point. Impulse buying is not the move.

Still, he couldn’t keep himself away, deciding to return back to his latest purchase and drape it over his wrist. “It looks so odd on me. Wearing it out and about would stick out like a sore thumb, even if I did get this to work.”

It was a second later that the face of the watch began to flicker on and off. Mako pinched his eyebrows, taking note of the change and he tried tapping at the screen with an index finger.

He was greeted by a humanoid mecha of red, black and white which boomed, “I am Power.”

“Ahhh!” Dropping the watch on the desk out of shock, Mako distanced himself to come down from the shock, gingerly picked the watch back up, and found the humanoid mecha still staring back at him.

“I guess the watch works somehow, but this is the oddest startup screen��”

“And I need you to defeat the Kaiju, Mako,” it– the watch– Power continued.

Hold on. Mako’s thoughts ground to a halt. “The what? Kaiju? What on earth is this thing talking about?” And how does it know my name?

In an answer to his rapid fire of questions, there was an earth-rumbling roar coming from outside his house. The walls surrounding him quaked; lights flickered on and off.

Dread made Mako’s blood immediately still and his face paled. He scrambled towards the window to find the source of the thundering cry.

What looked to be nearly 100m in both height and length, a prehistoric beast was running rampant in the middle of the city.

Mouth agape and eyes bulging out in shock, Mako tried to make sense of the madness. “A Kaiju? Those things are real? I thought they were something you’d only see on movies and shows? How on Earth and when did it get here?”

“No time to answer your questions, Mako!” Power snapped. “Now, we must merge as one to defeat the Kaiju before it continues its onslaught of destruction!”

He turned to his talking watch. “Merge as one? What do you mean by that?”

“What did I just say about having no time to answer your questions?!”

He pinched his brows and pouted. Sheesh, so hasty.

“I need you to do as I say. Fasten me onto your wrist. Start off with making your left hand into a fist and bringing it to your chest above your heart. Then, cover the face of the watch with your right hand.”

Reminded of the piercing roars and the monster wreaking havoc, Mako followed suit.

“Focus all your life, all your energy onto me. Then, repeat after me, ‘Ultra power sequence, start!’”

Mako broke his pose to cock his head to the side and raised a skeptical side eye. Seriously? That’s so embarra–

Another thundering outcry and crash made him flinch. He squinted to the far off distance checking in on the situation. In addition to the monster swiping at buildings with its claws and tail, powerful laser blasts began to erupt from its mouth for long distance attacks.

Bearing heated cheeks, Mako took a moment to center himself before assuming position once more. “Ultra power sequence, start!”

A blinding white flash forced him to squeeze his eyes tight. When the light faded and Mako felt ready to open his eyes once more, he found himself at ground zero. Face to face with the Kaiju only a few kilometers away. It stared him down in a challenge.

Assessing his surroundings and perspective, Mako felt a shift. More than being larger than life, more than being physically capable to go head to head with the raging monster, more than all of that.

When he looked at the world from a higher place, he felt full of promise. Full of hope. He felt invincible.

He brought a hand in front of his face, met with the red, black, and white armor he recognized from Power in his watch.

He clenched his fist with an assured grin.

This is what it must be like to be merged with Power.

The Kaiju continued to roar deliriously, razing buildings in its vicinity. The monster paused its rampage to lean its head back, mouth hung open, for a beam of light to start growing from within.

“Mako!”

Snapping out of his reverie, Mako needed no further words. He charged towards the beast, ramming his shoulder into where he assumed the solar plexus would be.

Cut off from its attack, the monster let out a piercing cry as the momentum Mako carried had them tumbling to the ground. Mako landed on top, working to pin it down.

Although the Kaiju’s movements were slow, they held a lot of power behind them, making Mako work tooth and nail to hold down the arms and legs. He still needed to be mindful of its jaw and the blasts it was capable of producing.

“You need to go for the nape of the neck! That’s its weak spot!” Power advised.

Huffing and panting from the rush and struggle, “You wouldn’t happen to know if there is a weapon of any sort that comes with this thing, would you?”

“Squeeze your right fist.”

Directly above Mako’s right hand, a short wrist blade materialized. Perfect. Just what I need.

Mako couldn’t get distracted by the blade for too long, feeling the monster start to gain more strength in its writhing. It attempted to lunge forward and snap its jaws at Mako.

Mako readjusted his position, working to firmly secure the beast’s limbs once more. Before it could open its mouth for another attack, knowing it was capable of shooting laser blasts, Mako loaded his hand back and thrust the wrist blade into the neck with all the strength he could muster to pierce all the way to the back.

A long sputtered howl on its last breaths, the kaiju thrashed weakly for a few more minutes before it ceased to fight back. Time stood still for Mako while he held his breath hovering over the monster, hoping and praying it was actually dead. Sure the fight was over after a drawn out pause, Mako finally sat back on his heels, chest heaving in fatigue and disbelief at what he just did.

Before he had any more time to process the events of the day, he was hit with another white flash of light that brought him back to his garage once it faded. Knees buckling in the adrenaline crash, Mako fell back on his butt down to the floor, propped back on his hands.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he breathed. “I… fought… a kaiju? And won.”

“Congratulations on your victory today, Mako. A small step forward; you’re learning.”

Mako brought his hand up to face the watch and look at Power incredulously. “‘Small step forward’? Wasn’t that it? You told me I needed to defeat the Kaiju.”

“There is more than what meets the eye and this is just the beginning.”

Overwhelmed and at a loss for words, he dumbly nodded before dropping his hand.

In the background he vaguely caught onto the sounds of wailing sirens and people crying over the devastation.

****

Heading out the next day didn’t do anything to help sort through the confusion and questions in Mako’s mind, but only made it worse.

Nothing had changed.

Events of the night before wiped clean, it was as though there was no evidence of a Kaiju running rampant about Republic City the night before. Roads were undamaged. Once destroyed buildings, intact. Passerbys went about their day to day business as though the most mind-boggling events of anyone’s lives didn’t happen less than 12 hours ago.

Mako could have chalked it up to a fever dream he couldn’t shake off, but the only evidence that still kept him grounded of the events from the day before was the watch– Power– Mako absentmindedly fiddled with.

Blankly staring as his eyes swept the scenery, Mako could only come to a single conclusion.

“Something is off here…”

And he needed to find out what.

#threw mako into a shonen mecha au haha okay #auroulette2023 #my fics #legend of korra #mako #fanfic

3 notes · View notes

natelawtism · 16 days ago

Note

sorry if my asks start not making sense, im low-key kinda sick and also very sleep deprived

Also, if it's alright to ask, how did Rowan find out he had autism? Was he diagnosed at a young age or only later? If later, what made him seek out a diagnosis? What does he struggle with the most? Does he have a special interest?

I have more questions but I'll keep them at a minimum for now,,

HIHI SO SORRY FOR MY LATE RESPONSE ON THESE ASKS!! Kinda got in the way so I didn't have time to ramble.... BUT NOW I DO!! mwahaha

Rowan found out he had autism at ages 14-15. He sought out diagnosis because he got peer-reviewed about it 💀 like straight up his friends and people around him told him they thought he was autistic. Not in an insulting way, in a genuine "get a screening" way. The reason his parents didn't get him a screening earlier or even think he was autistic was the fact that they are ALSO undiagnosed neurodivergent, which made them assume his behaviors were normal. (Neither of them seek out diagnosis themselves)

I'd say he struggles the most with being overwhelmed/overstimulated. He loves music- and can handle a loud environment when it's loud music (that he enjoys), or handle a loud environment when he's comfortable and having fun, but most of the time he's quickly overstimulated. It doesn't take long for him to shut down in a loud environment, no matter what it is. Other things like crowds or crowded spaces have the same effect on him. He REALLY needs noise-cancelling headphones so he can manage life better, but he doesn't get any until Lynn gifts him a pair at his birthday meeting. (Which is so much later than he should've had some-) Even then he will forget to bring them around lmao. Poor guy thinks he can thug it out. (He literally shuts down)

He himself doesn't know a lot of what he struggles with- since he's been making all his life. Part of why a lot of girls go undiagnosed is the fact that other girls will *make* you mask, which I think played a part in Rowan's late diagnosis. He was forced to mask- and he has good memorisation skills so he would memorize social cues and social rules he learned as he grew up. Even if they didn't make sense- he would make sure to learn from the times people looked at him weird or called him rude. A lot of stuff he doesn't even know he struggles with or is a symptom. He chalks everything up to being "how it is" when it most definitely is NOT how it is.

He has two special interests (that are also my own)- marine biology.... and fandom culture. IK THE SECOND ONE SOUNDS CRAZY BUT LISTEN. LISTEN. It's specifically fandom culture and studying how people act in fandoms. What behavior begins, why things are done, the social landscape and how different demographics act differently. Especially the odd behavior and why the HELL that stuff happens! Really, you could call it a fascination with human behavior (which he also really enjoys), but his specific special interest is in how people act in fandoms and why (he loves knowing about the oddities and what motivated those people to act in such a way as a fan)

This is a reason he's such good friends with Alicia- since they both like to study people and their behaviors. In very different ways, but they can still relate to each other and talk about things.

With marine biology? Don't even get me STARTED on that. Rowan could go on for hours and hours and hours about his favorite facts, animals, you name it. He accidentally rambles about it all the time. He always has a fun fish fact, I can assure you. He's most interested in the deep sea, and deep sea exploration. His favorite sea animals are the ones found deep under the water, and he's OBSESSED with learning about how they've adapted and how they live so far down. Many people find the things that live in the deep sea horrific- but he loves it ALL. The creepier and weirder they look, the more intrigued he is. The more he wants to know. He wants nothing more than to have a hand in the discovery of *more* of these beautiful creatures!

#natelawtism #oc rambles #everett called rowan psychotic when he was calling creepy ass fish cute and silly #rowan doesnt care tho. he loves those creepy crawly fish #nate has so much unnecessary fish knowledge now #he also thinks ro's kinda crazy for it but he likes seeing him happy #also rowans actual favorite sea animal is an octopus #if you even care

1 note · View note

zindezin · 8 months ago

Text

if i could develop my own look it would be lazy, not decadent, just sloth. i've been driven by my interests most of my life and fortunately its been transferrable, but i can be very disengaged when im not interested. im blessed enough to have studied enough to b considered smart, but as a person heavily informed by 2000s television n tropes, i have been intensely averse to the label of intelligence.

i'm over it now, but a lot of what I've done in the past and present have been attempts to downplay my intilligence and 1 way i've done this has been through careful negligence. I've loved to dress and act in ways that demonstrate nonchalance, when I do in fact care - immensely. but because of this, i've been hampered by this interest in what people think. if I didnt care, I'd do whatever my interests drove me to, but bc i did care, the focus is on demonstrating that i dont care, so this involves just missing the mark. almost making the look. a studied attempt to show that i am not interested. but then ofc i am, and i have to take steps to ensure that however bad it is, it isn't too bad. or needing to know how to nail the look so i can avoid it.

Along the way, i got the idea that dressing comfortable was the best way to show that i dont care. because ofc, if i'm cozy, i'm not taking further steps for you or anyone else. At the same time if i do take more movements, it means to u far more than it is. getting food from someone who always gives people food isn't usually recognized as special but when someone who never does it, all of a sudden it makes you feel far more than the action really meant.

i did a lot of things arbitrarily, there wasn't any sort of conscious intent when i did this. When I look back though i can prescribe what i was doing somewhat. again, all of this was complicated by my need to look unconcerned so that my intelligence was perceived as less of a threat or oddity. But ofc this was something I'd done for years, and so to a large degree I had acc become unconcerned, disaffected. The problem was that my concern with others perceptions even as i was insisting that i wasnt interested ensured that I had created a character I felt I had to remain faithful to.

i became worried about expanding beyond the character i had set for myself. being cozy in practice required the acquisition of specific items, items I didnt have the time/funds to buy. moreover, i wasnt looking accurately enough to find the items that would've met this niche, and as a result, i got caught in this trap where my style stagnated in person while my awareness of clothing and style exponentionally increased, I knew all these rules and ways of dressing, but I was continually unaware of how to define my character within these labels, nor did i have the tools to position myself effectively.

now, however, I have a bit more agency. And at the same time I've come to greatly appreciate the power of slothful dressing, bc I myself have also become very appreciative of rest for rest's sake. but ive also come to appreciate the power of smart magnetic clothing, doing for the sake of doing and achieving things you're interested in. as a person i consist of both elements at the same time. im very reserved but aware, and through this awareness, when I decide to engage i can become magnetic and compelling. Simultaneously I love to and frequently disengage to be my own person comfortably even within the midst of others. the other day someone told me I have deep sea tendencies, and ever since I've become, not enamoured, but intrigued by the idea and what it reveals.

Now that I'm conscious of it though, i am absolutely going to develop a style that reflects both elements of myself. my style has improved somewhat in recent times as I have been able to find and buy pieces i like, but again it has been largely limited by not really knowing my why or how. Now that i know what it is I'm interested in, if not conveying, being, future efforts at styling will reflect this duality. it makes a lot of sense now why some of my favourite or best outfits have worked tho, bc they have employed a blend of these traits.

i kind of want to immediately go and try to make this work now that i know what it is/was Im interested in and visualizing how it works. ill settle for looking through

#in formal

0 notes

doctenwho · 4 years ago

Text

Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.

Both his pride, and his hearts.

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.

It was silly.

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #10 #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #writing prompt #writing requests #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

284 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 years ago

Note

hey sex witch, wondering if you have any advice on how to deal with feelings of shame about kinks you have? (especially ones considered to be on the weirder end of things)

hi anon,

that's a hard one, and I'm sorry you're struggling with it :(

whenever someone - myself included! - if feeling down and out about the sense that they're a bit of a sexual oddity, I find it helpful to remember that what's "normal" has fluctuated wildly throughout human history, and is never more than temporary at best.

I mean heck, in much of medieval Europe cishet men who never had sex with anyone but their cishet lawfully wedded wives in missionary position with the intent to reproduce could still be considered a bit deviant if they were suspected of enjoying sex too much! human beings are beautifully varied, but unfortunately one thing that many of us unfortunately have in common is that we love to judge other people and will find almost any excuse to do so.

even more unfortunately, that frequently even includes judging ourselves. hell, that can be the hardest kind of judgement to unlearn! I'll be the first to admit that while I spend all day every day encouraging people to radically accept their bodies exactly as they are and advocate for their health and desire without shame, I still frequently find myself looking at my own abysmal sex life and wondering what in the actual holy hell is wrong with me.

... the point being, making peace with who you are and what you want can be hard, but not impossible.

as with many other facets of the self, it can be easier to accept something about you by first accepting - and even loving it! - in other people. if you have any interest in exploring kinky social groups, either online or in person, I'd definitely recommend looking into it. I cannot emphasize enough that this doesn't even need to be a sex thing; I've been to kink meet-ups that were firmly pg and fully clothed that took place in a sports bar's back room over plates of chicken wings. tons of nice people, hanging out and catching up and occasionally veering very casually into conversations about their interests in being tied up/beaten/electrocuted/etc. even for someone who shouts about sex as much as me, it's refreshing to be in a space where people are so upfront and frank about the shit they're into!

it's also definitely worthwhile to spend some time doing some major unpacking within yourself. sorry if journaling isn't really your bag, but I would definitely recommend taking some time to ask yourself some serious questions and answer them in as much or as little detail as you need. things to think about could include when you first started becoming aware of your kink(s), when the feelings of shame arrived, what you believe might have spurred those, and how you can untangle or outright refute those sources of shame. were you taught to fear your sexuality? well that's not going to work, it's a part of you as much as your sense of taste and your skin and your ability to dream. have you run into the notion that there's something particularly immoral about your particular kink? look, dude: as long as everyone's given informed consent, you can do whatever the fuck you want when you fuck. just because it's not many people's cup of tea doesn't mean there's anything wrong with the people who do enjoy it.

of course, tackling all that alone can be a tall order, especially if you're finding that the roots of this shame run deep. a little therapy never hurt anyone, and there are plenty of therapists out there who specialize in matters of sexuality and even kink. if you're in the US, like me, you can start looking for options through the directory at AASECT (American Association of Sexuality Educators Counselors and Therapists) and KAP (Kink Aware Professionals).

there's probably, you know, a lot of work and some tears that will have to go into this, because very few people can just magically will their shame away overnight, but I wish you the very best of luck in your journey and hope you'll remember that there's nothing wrong with being turned out, even if it is by something on the weirder end of things. I hope you can reach a place where your kink only makes you feel good (or bad, if that's what you're into, but bad in a more fun way).

#sex edventures 2022

15 notes · View notes

cozy-the-overlord · 4 years ago

Text

Look at Me

Summary: Medusa didn't get many visitors. Those she did usually were there seeking her head. But there's something different about this stranger ...

Word Count: 1,799

Pairing: Loki x Medusa, Loki x OFC (I guess? Since she’s my version of Medusa? I’m not sure if this counts ...)

A/N: So in the middle of my Greek Mythology class, during a lecture about Perseus and Medusa, I made the profound connection that both Loki and Medusa are associated with snakes (I know, my genius is truly unparalleled). And then I wrote this. I'm not entirely certain what "this" is, but I wrote it and it's here. Enjoy!

Thanks for reading! :)

Warnings: none

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

The man arrived just as she was finishing cooking dinner. It hadn’t been anything special—just an unfortunate duck she had managed to skewer as it came to rest on the side of the lake. Medusa had gotten pretty good at shooting without looking. It had been a real problem at first—she hadn’t been a particularly good archer to begin with, and one wayward glance would turn whatever creature she was stalking into a piece of marble. The woods around her cave were littered with life-sized statues of birds and rabbits and other little animals from hunting expeditions gone wrong. For a while, she had feared she’d garner Artemis’ wrath on top of all the other deities who hated her, and the thought had made her bow even more unsteady. But the years went on without incident. And as with anything else, she adapted. She still wasn’t perfect, but at least she could hit her target without turning it to stone.

She had been a bit caught off-guard by the man. He was quieter than most, and more cautious— he didn’t approach her cave, didn’t even bother to raise his sword, electing to linger amongst the brush in silent observation. On her own, she might not have even noticed his presence. But there was little that went past the snakes, and when her hair stood on end, hissing and spitting at something behind her, Medusa knew she had company.

She sighed, careful not to turn away from her pot. “I know you’re there, hero. You might as well come out.”

He did so without a fuss, his footsteps so light on the stone that she had to crane her ears to hear them. That was strange. Medusa had never known a man to step so softly.

“Impressive.” His voice was smooth, like polished marble, and it carried an accent that she didn’t recognize. “They said you had eyes in the back of your head, but mortals are known to exaggerate.”

She fought back another sigh. Ah, yes, yet another mortal fool who thinks himself a god. It had been so long since one intruded upon her lair, Medusa had begun to hope that perhaps they had finally elected to leave her in peace. She supposed that was too unrealistic to ask.

“Perhaps you could learn a lesson or two from them,” Medusa straightened up, still facing the cracked stone of the cavern walls rather than her visitor. Her hair was still twisting around her neck—it would take a few hours for the snakes to calm down again. She bit her lip. “I have no interest in killing you, hero. But you haven’t a chance at killing me. Just look to your predecessors.”

She motioned towards the statues that littered her the clearing, snarling warriors frozen in mid attack, time slowly chipping away at their features until their visages were near unrecognizable. How many times had she said these words? How many times had she been ignored?

Still, she tried each time. “You have nothing to gain here. Please, seek your accolades elsewhere.”

She waited for his taunts, his insults. “I fear no beast on this earth, creature, not even one as vile as yourself!” It was all the same. They’d rush forward with their sword and a battle cry and she’d turn around and watch as their skin cracked and hardened and their screams died in their throats.

But the man only chuckled, a warm, welcoming sound that seemed as foreign as his accent. “Oh, I’m afraid you misunderstand my purpose here, my lady,” he said. “I’m no hero. And I most certainly have no intention to kill you.” He was walking towards her, but it was a leisurely stroll, his steps gentle and measured, nothing threating about it. “As for having nothing to gain here,” he added. “I’d prefer to reach my own conclusions.”

To say she was perplexed would have been an understatement. “But, if you haven’t come to kill me,” she frowned, “May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?”

“The truth?” he asked. “Simple curiosity.” He was standing quite near to her now, and Medusa wondered for a moment if this was his plan—distract her with his oddities so that he could have a closer shot at her, but he only sat back against a rock with a satisfied huff. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you since I first came to this land,” he continued. “I was eager to learn if there was any truth to the stories.” He let out another little chuckle, so soft it seemed like a secret. “Besides, I’ve been told I have an affinity for snakes.”

“Is that so?” It was nice, just talking to someone. She hadn’t talked to anyone in ages—there wasn’t anyone to talk to around here, unless you counted her snakes, but they only really served as obnoxious reminders of her curse. And there was something amusing about this stranger, something smooth and sociable that she hadn’t realized she missed. She wondered what he looked like. “Well then, not-hero, have I met your lofty expectations?”

“Oh, you’ve far and away surpassed them, my lady. You’re truly a magnificent presence.”

She laughed. “Do you waste so many pretty words upon every monster you come across?”

“Waste?” His voice brimmed with faux offense. “I assure you, my lady, I spend my words quite carefully. I lavish them only upon the deserving.” There was a pause, and for a moment Medusa feared that perhaps he was truly insulted.

“Besides,” he continued finally, with a purposeful kind of nonchalance that hadn’t been there before. “You’re no monster.”

The statement was so ludicrous that she laughed again. “Do you not see the statues?”

“I do,” he replied. His voice had turned quite serious, and Medusa could hear him shifting as he leaned forward on the rock. “I see cowards frozen for eternity in the act of attacking a woman who has brought them no harm whilst her back is turned, like the shameful curs they were. I also see that you could have marbleized me just like them in half a second, but you chose not to. Instead, even though you had no way of knowing my intentions, you warned me. In your position, I can’t say I would’ve done the same.” He inhaled. “And that’s not even mentioning how this whole time we’ve been talking, you’ve not once risked turning your face to me, despite how vulnerable it leaves you. That doesn’t seem very monstrous to me.”

Medusa swallowed. There was a dull sort of ache in her chest, a cold throbbing that never really went away, but seemed even sharper in the moment.

You’re no monster.

No one said that to her. No one believed it. There wasn’t a single person in all of Greece who saw her that way. Even the gods despised her. Medusa shook her head, as if to shake away the tears burning in her eyes.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I’ve done.”

“Who’s to say I don’t?” he asked. “I’ve heard the stories. But I see no monster before me—only a person who’s suffered alone for far too long.”

She gulped, the snakes still writing around her face. How long had it been since she awoke on the cold floor of the temple, shivering and aching and praying that the night before had been but a dream? She remembered the priestesses who walked in to find her, how they screamed when they laid eyes on her, how quickly their screams froze in their throat when she looked up.

Terrified, the people had chased her from the city premises, waving torches and blades and spitting venom farther than the snakes snapping in her hair. She had taken shelter in the forest, clawing at the green scales on her arms as if ripping them off would restore her old skin. Her barbed nails only drew blood.

Back in the cave, Medusa stifled her whimper. It had been years since that fateful morning, and yet the terror still came rushing back like an overflowing river. Behind her the man stood, and she could hear the concern in his voice as he approached her.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to bring you pain.”

She inhaled. “Are you a god?” Because surely, he wasn’t human. No mortal man would seek her out for such a conversation. Although she couldn’t imagine the gods suddenly taking pity on her after all this time either.

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Not in the way you’re thinking. But I can help you, if you’ll allow me.”

She shook her head. It hurt too much to hope. “No one can help me.”

“I’ll show you,” he said. “Look at me.”

Medusa gaped. He couldn’t be serious. “Are you mad?”

“Not in this. Look at me.”

She turned slowly, eyes closed, palms quivering. He was standing near to her—she could feel the way he shifted as she moved to face him. Was he as nervous as she was? Would he realize the absolute idiocy of his request? But his voice held nothing but gentle confidence.

“Just trust me, Medusa.” She could hear his smile, soft and encouraging. “Look at me.”

And so, she opened her eyes.

She expected to be greeted with the cold crackling of marble spreading across skin, the horrible empty silence that always followed once the lungs turned to stone. But she wasn’t. Medusa blinked, but nothing changed—the man who stood before her remained,

He was slender and lithe, with long hair that tumbled over his shoulders, black as raven’s wing. His armor—was it armor?— was unlike anything Medusa had ever seen before, some strange mix of gold and leather that clung to his form in a way that seemed so much lighter than the bulky chest plates of her usual visitors. His eyes found hers, sparkling emeralds in the sunlight, and Medusa suddenly realized that, for the first time in ages, someone was returning her gaze.

“How?” she choked. Her voice didn’t seem to be working. Perhaps this was the dream, and she’d awaken in the corner of the cave alone and cold once more.

“Just a little trick I picked up,” he said. “I know quite a few of them.”

She stared at him. That was a marvel in it of itself, just to be able to stare at someone, but there was also something otherworldly floating about him that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Who are you?” Medusa asked.

“They call me Loki.” He held out his hand towards her, simultaneously strong and soft. The snakes in her hair relaxed against her scalp. Loki smiled. “Come with me. There’s much I wish to show you.”

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #medusa #look at me #cozy writes

82 notes · View notes

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Under A Storm - Bucky Barnes x mystery (f)reader Avenger

Summary: You’ve been in love with Bucky for awhile now, and so has he, what will happen when you reveal your true origins? Will he still love you?

Warning: got some good’ol angst, fluffy times with Bucky I don’t hate you I promise

Masterlist

“I think I’m winning. Just putting that out there.” You quip, not even breaking a sweat as Bucky uses everything in his power to get your arm to budge, even just a little.

“I’m trying...just give me a moment..” Grumbles Bucky as he strains to keep his metal arm from reaching defeat at the end of the table.

For the entirety of the day the two of you have been wandering around the Avengers base with nothing better to do then annoy Tony in his lab, and harass Clint who’s recovering from a broken arm while everyone else is off somewhere in the Netherlands, probably freezing their asses off.

Luckily for you, Steve said this was your vacation week, while Bucky on the other hand was told to hang back while his abdominal scars heal up nice and pretty. And since you could care less about heading down south to some fancy and excessively hot beach all on your lonesome, you’ve decided to keep your friends company. Especially Bucky.

But if you’re being honest with yourself here, you mostly just stayed to spend time with Bucky. Ah yes, that beautifully handsome blue eyed bastard with the metal arm and incredibly good looks paired with an equally as stellar personality.

It’s almost like the universe said “I know you’ve had a hard time down there so here’s this literal angel for you, you’re welcome, lots of love now go and do nothing about it sucker.”

It’s not like you didn’t want to make a move, it’s just, you’re origins are so different from his. In fact, your ass isn’t even from earth! You’re not even an actual human being! Granted you look humanly enough, separate from the fact that you’ve got a beautiful pair of darkly colored curled horns, and eyes the color of fire embers that reflects light due to your nocturnal vision.

But other then those little oddities about yourself, you look pretty normal, even more so when wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Which has become a staple of your usual street attire in general and even when on missions.

Even with all the mystery that still surrounds you and that you’ve kept hidden within yourself since you’ve met him, Bucky likes having you around anyway, and without a doubt you are his favorite person on the team.

Smiling adoringly, you chuckle while Bucky struggles to pin your arm to the table, while your arm holds his up with little effort due to your inhuman strength.

He’s trying really hard, putting all of his effort and sweat into winning this round, which would be the first if he does happen to win, which you already know won’t be happening today, nor the next week.

“Just give me a moment.” Mutters Bucky through clenched teeth as his metal arm adjusts and readjusts to use as much strength as physically possible by this special Wakandian tech.

Blowing air out of your lips, you casually rest your head against your knuckles on your free hand as you wait for him to finally crack, “Just tap out or I’ll pin you again. And I know how much you hate losing.”

“I’m not tapping out Y/N.” Says Bucky defensively as he focuses all his energy into moving your arm even just an itty bitty inch, something, anything.

“Fine then.” You reply before slamming his metal arm against the table with a loud clang that rings throughout the entire lounging area. He quickly gives you an annoyed look as your face turns into a bright grin.

“I hate you.” Grumbles Bucky as he leans back into the couch.

Snatching your water bottle from the side table, you take a swig before shrugging, “We don’t have room in this house for weak bitches. Barnes I’m sorry to say this but....you’ve gotta go.”

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance before the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle, followed by his beautiful smile and then that contagious laugh. “Y/N I couldn’t make it without you, please be kind.” He pleads jokingly as you set the bottle down.

“I’ll consider your words.” You muse with a dramatic hair flip as he reaches over to take the half empty bottle of water, drinking it all in one long chug that has you memorized for a good ten seconds.

Snapping out of your Bucky-being-unknowingly-hot-without-realizing-it trance, you quickly fake pout, “My water you ass!”

“I’m from Russia so it’s our water.”

“Shut up you just lived there.” You retort before giving him a double take, “And hey.”

“Ah, come on doll let’s go bother Clint again.” Suggests Bucky as he rises to his feet and walks around the table to pull you to yours as well. God all you wanna do is kiss that stupid face of his and shove him back down onto the couch and...

“Hey guys what’s up.” Chirps Clint as Bucky wanders into Tony’s lab, you following right after.

Nodding to him in acknowledgment, you casually shrug while looking around at the various contraptions and work-in-progresses, “Oh you know, the usual.”

“Here to lighten up the place? Things were getting pretty dull.” Confirms Clint just as Tony walks out of the bathroom.

“I heard that. And what? Are we not having fun? Are you not entertained?”

“I’m entertained all right.”

“Exactly.” Points Tony before shifting his attention over to Bucky, “Speaking of entertainment. I need you for a little something out back involving a knife and you throwing it at a couple things I’ve been testing out.”

“He’d love too.” You add with a beaming grin as Bucky turns to glare at you, noticing his agitation you quickly take a step forward and squeeze his shoulders, “Right?”

Pursing his lips together, Bucky turns his head to face an expectant Tony before glaring back down at you, “Sure.”

“Alright great! Just follow me and let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Claps the genius enthusiastically as he gathers a bag full of various materials, making certain to snatch a camera before making for the door. Oh, you’ve gotta watch that tape later.

Releasing your grip from Bucky’s broad shoulders, you hand him a small smile, “Hehe sorry.”

“You owe me you little asshole.” Jokes Bucky with an apprehensive smirk as he swiftly touches your chin affectionately before turning to jog out the door after Tony.

Smiling like a fool in love, you suppress a childish giggle as Clint loudly slurps down a smoothie, “You got it bad kid, you really do.”

Raising a brow at him, you walk over to the swivel chair he’s seated comfortably on and take the free spot on the table nearby, “I’m almost as old as the dinosaurs so don’t call me kid.” You sass, causing him to chuckle.

“Fair point. But still, you’ve got it bad Y/N.” Rolling your ember irises, you let out a huff of air as he grins knowingly, “Decide on telling him anytime soon or are we waiting for something tragic to happen first?”

“I’ll get around to it.” You mutter unenthusiastically as Clint takes another long pause to awkwardly suck down his weirdly colored smoothie.

“Sure. Okay, and I believe the earth is flat.” Snorts Clint, his words absolutely dripping in sarcasm.

Scoffing you throw a dirty cloth at him before letting your head fall into your hands, “It’s too fucking difficult Clint. I’m too goddamn weird.”

“What?” Laughs Clint in bewilderment, genuinely surprised that you would say such a thing considering he’s know you for years and finds that completely false, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No it’s true.” You mumble against your palms, “He doesn’t know about everything about me yet, I don’t wanna freak him out just as he’s starting to like me alright.”

“Ah, so he does like you.” Confirms Clint with a knowing nod, “I knew it.”

“Yeah me too.”

Nodding slowly once again, the archer stands and makes the less then 1 foot distance to reach you. Head still in your hands, he gently knocks a fist against one of your horns as you try your best to ignore his existence.

“Knock. Knock. Anyone home?” Asks your friend as he awaits in hope that he can talk some real sense into you about your strong feelings for Bucky. “Please, I know you’re in there Y/N, time to open up.”

Cracking a smile at his theatrics, you slowly release your head from your palms to greet him with an annoyed half glare, “By the way I am not waiting for something terrible to happen. I have my reasons okay.”

“Your reasons being...”

Biting your lip, you pull your legs up to sit cross legged on the table, “You don’t get it Clint, I’m me alright. I’m not from this planet, I’ve got horns, I can sense peoples emotions, and since my mother is Goddess of the Underworld I’m technically herald of bringing this earth to a bloody and violent end!” You shout as he keeps the most irritating of faces on, making your anger rise by the second.

“Isn’t it nice to talk about our feelings.” Replies Clint in the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard, if you weren’t so flustered right now you could probably have laughed.

“Fuck off Clint I’m in love and he doesn’t know that shit part about me.” You grumble with a frown, “Bucky doesn’t know anything.”

“Well...” Wonders Clint for a brief moment, “Maybe he should. I mean you said it yourself, he does have affections for you.”

“Oh I know he does, every time I’m around him he smells like what happiness and love smells like.”

“Which is?”

“Hard to describe in this world, but it’s the best smell in existence.” You admit with the smallest of smiles as you think about Bucky, “Clint why do I have to feel this way? Why does he have to love me? I’m destined for terrible things....or, well...I was, but still.”

Noticing how your eyes have suddenly glossed over, Clint holds your shoulder while giving you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, listen to me. You will never do anything like that, you’re too morally correct and are almost the embodiment of a kitten for that shit anyways. And I know Bucky will love you either way, because he’s Bucky and that man needs a wild woman like you in his life to keep things interesting. You’ll be fine, believe me.”

Shutting your eyes tight, you reveal the tiniest of smiles before looking at Clint, “Maybe you’re not just a pretty face after all. Thanks Clint I needed that.”

Taking a step back, be claps his hands together happily, “Why thank you. I’ve been watching a lot of Ted talks on our higher purpose and motivation recently and you gave me the perfect opportunity to test my insight.”

“Clint you’re ridiculous.” You laugh, “But still, I think it’s time to tell him. I just hope he’s okay after all is said and done because I don’t know what I’d do with myself if he walks away.” You worry.

“Well if he does I make the best margaritas...”

“Shut up.”

——

For the past half an hour your mind has been swimming with worries and thoughts about how Bucky may react when you tell him the full truth of your origins, and possible future that you’ve fought to keep away since you walked into this world.

He’s only a man, a full mortal, but you have grown to love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Your ember eyes watch as the trees sway back and forth with the moody wind who pushes and pulls them back. A storm is on the rise as giant puffy dark clouds appear in the far distance, causing the once sunny day to darken.

You slouch lazily in your comfy plush lounging chair, one that you easily dragged over to the nearest giant window to watch the clouds race by while you wait for Bucky to return. Getting lost in your drifting thoughts in the process.

“Guess we won’t be going for a walk today after all.” Interrupts Bucky from your jumbled mind, your head immediately turns to watch as he walks from the kitchen to your side by the window.

“Yeah, too bad. I’m not that mad though, I like listening to the thunderstorms.” You confirm with a casual shrug.

Bucky smiles down at you, head turning to watch as the wind rushes against the trees, “I guess there is a beauty in the chaos....but hey Y/N, you know what we could do now?”

Chuckling at his excited expression, you tilt your head up, giving him your full undivided attention, “I’m dying to know Buck.” You muse with a cute little smirk that unknowingly caused his heart to jump with happiness.

Breaking out into a shy smile, Bucky quickly runs his fingers through his less then shoulder length hair, “Uh, what do you say to a movie night? With me?” He asks cautiously, hoping you’ll say yes so he gets even the tiniest opportunity to maybe, possibly, cuddle you.

Your eyes shift back to the growing grey clouds as small water droplets flicker against the window, smiling to yourself, you swiftly stand and turn to face him, “That’s a compelling question...” You muse with a lopsided grin, your hand rising to touch the tip of your chin thoughtfully as he leans against the thick window with a bemused smirk, “And since you asked so nicely and look so very polite too, oh I guess it’d be a tragedy and lonesome night if I declined.” You laugh.

“It would be very lonely for sure.” Agrees Bucky, his face suddenly shifting to slight nervousness, “So uh....you in?”

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you playfully roll your eyes, “No shit I’m in.” You quip before walking past him and into the kitchen for a drink, Bucky following close behind.

He stops to lean his torso against the marble countertop as you fill up a glass of water, “Well I wasn’t completely sure, just checking.” He admits with a nervous chuckle. Bucky you are unbelievably adorable.

Finishing your drink, you roll your eyes as he hangs his head in slight embarrassment, “God Buck, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” You jest, causing his cheeks to dust pink as he rises his head to meet your shimmering irises. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, incredibly glad that you can’t read minds like Wanda.

Little does he know you can sense emotions, smell them even if they’re strong enough; and if Bucky doesn’t just smell of love and absolute joy right. It’s the most adorable thing in the whole entire world, there’s no fucking way you’ll refrain from admitting your feelings tonight. It just wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t.

“Hey I’m trying here.” He protests half defensively, pushing himself off the counter as you walk around and head for the door. He’s at your side in a second, smile on and eyes trained on nothing but you.

Keeping your eyes forward, you bite your lip as he stares, suddenly his metal arm gives you a slight friendly nudge and now you have no choice but to look at his dumb face, “You think I’m pretty?” He wonders with a mischievous smirk.

“Yeah.” You mutter before pushing him to the side as he’s drifted comfortably close to you, “Pretty annoying.” You retort, doing your best to hold in your laughter as he takes offense and grips his chest dramatically.

“Y/N you monster.” Gasps Bucky, mouth a-gap as he watches you casually shrug.

“I am evil and cold blooded what can I say.” You muse back, a smug grin on your lips that Bucky would like nothing more then to kiss right now. Yet he refrains, not today, he needs to gather his courage first.

Turning the corner to the Avengers sleeping quarters, he quickly stops when he realizes none of you know which room to take, tugging at his sleeve you hand him a calming grin, “We’ll watch in mine. You’re bed is too hard anyways.”

“It is not.” He argues.

“It is too.”

“Not.”

“Well it is so shut up.”

“Not.”

Pushing him into his door, you raise a brow at him, “Just get the movie, I’ll be in my room waiting for your annoying ass.”

Shaking his head at your humorous sass, he quickly salutes you before opening up his door, “What are we thinking? Horror? Comedy? Adventure? All three?”

Taking a step forward, you lean in closer to Bucky; almost testing the waters, before lightly pushing him backwards by his strong chest, “Surprise me.” You quip, wiggling your brow once for emphasis. He breaks out into an adorable crooked grin as he watches you leave and close your own door right across from him.

After making record time changing into your comfortable movie watching sweatpants and some ten year old shirt from Nat that says SHIRT in red letters with the R in a dull grey. Yeah, its one of your favorites; you race to turn the tv on as rain pounds against the glass, one flash of lightening strikes in the distance as a knock sounds at your door. Bucky.

Bolting for the door so fast you almost trip on a stray hoodie, you quickly regain your cool before taking a breath and opening up the metal door. You’re immediately greeted with the smiling face of Bucky as he holds a movie and two beers.

Leaning nonchalantly against the door frame you meet him with the chillest guise you can muster, “So, you come here often?”

Bucky instantly chuckles at your amusing antics as a small blush creeps out over his stubbled cheeks, “Only when I’m invited.” He replies before holding up the movie, “Is this one good?” Hell yes, and you’re now in my room.

Snatching it out of his hand you pull him fully into the room by tugging on his red shirt without much warning, he practically stumbles in, quickly regaining his balance while you shut the door and practically swagger over to the bed. Bucky following close behind.

You gracefully jump onto the comfortable mattress and twist into a seated position before grabbing some kind of hand held scanner, Bucky awkwardly shuffling to the bedside as he then moves to find a spot against the headboard as you fumble around with the movie and whatever device is in your hand.

Raising a brow he watches in curiosity, “Uh, Y/N. What exactly is that?”

“A movie scanner made by Tony. I scan said film and boom it translates to the tv no problem. Technology right.”

He nods in understanding as you press some button and suddenly the movie is on the tv screen, set and ready to play, “Woah.” He mumbles, genuinely in awe of the advanced tech of today. And how fast you were able to do that, god you’re just the best, he thinks.

A second later he flinches back as you throw a pillow at his side, “Shit sorry.” You mutter almost shyly while crawling to his side, “Heads up.”

“Yeah thanks for the warning. I’ll sit on the floor next time until you give me the all clear.” Sasses Bucky as you sit, grabbing the pillow and smacking him on the side of his head while also pretending not to notice your little theatric as you turn towards the screen. Very nonchalant.

Bucky on the other hand is left with some disheveled hair and the dumbest smile on his handsome face while you press play and grab a beer from out of his right hand, “I’m gonna take this.” You add before gasping in excitement, “You wanna watch something?! I have a party trick! It’s a good one too, you wanna see!”

“Please.” Snickers Bucky as you turn to face him better. He watches in awe as you raise the bottle to your left horn and in one calculated motion, use the sharp tip to crack open the beer bottle. “Wow.”

“I know right!” You exclaim with excitement, “It took me a week to perfect it. I just kept breaking the bottles neck and then Steve would drink after cause he can’t get drunk so.....uh yeah, you want me to open yours too?”

“I’d be honored.”

After drinking both your beers and watching the movie progress in relative peace, with the occasional gust of wind against the glass and a crack of thunder and lightening here and there. All was going pretty well, Bucky was laying on his one side while you were laying on your stomach totally engrossed in the film until....

Crack! BOOM! Darkness.

“Dammit! They were getting to the best part!” You whine, shifting around to sit while dramatically yelling out your frustration as Bucky turns to lay on his back, suppressing bemused laughter while you curse the shit excuse for efficient electricity in this place.

“It’ll come back on soon.” He inquires, “Guess you’ll just have to talk to me now.”

Snapping your head over to him, you scoff, “Why do I feel like you planned this?”

“I thought you planned this? Considering.....well, I guess I don’t really know.” He says thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before he hums, “We could ask each other questions.”

Y/N this is the absolute perfect opportunity, take it you lovestruck idiot, “Uh, yeah sure....I like knowing things.” You internally cringe, wanting to smack your head for that one; and you thought you could go a full hour without embarrassing yourself. Nope.

Nevertheless, Bucky smiles in the darkness, “Alright uh, let me think.......hmm okay uh.....where are you from? Since I’ve never really asked about that before.”

Well, fuck. I guess he’s going for the big guns straight off the bat.

Biting your lip anxiously, you twist a piece of frayed fabric from your one strange little pillow as you gather your courage to finally tell him everything. This is it, no holding back, “Oh uh.....well......you know I’m not from earth, yes?”

“Yeah, I did know that. The horns.”

“Right, good.” You mutter, your voice wavering with nervousness so much that Bucky sits up and turns to properly look at you even if he can’t really see your face.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He worries, brows furrowing in concern.

Hastily you regain your once dampened composure, “Yes! Yes.....yeah, I’m good. Awesome. Great....”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because you had a bad childhood?” Quips Bucky, using your own inside joke against you to help lighten the mood and make you laugh.

Snorting in amusement you smack his arm, Bucky mentally rejoices when he hears the sweet song of your happiness coming back, and the light sting of your always powerful hand.

“I didn’t have a bad childhood Bucky.” You admit, voice suddenly somber and thoughtful, “I didn’t even have a childhood.” Already getting depressing Y/N, nice one.

“oh.”

You shrug, letting out an apprehensive sigh as you look from the window then back to Bucky again, while he tries to watch your every move in the blackness of the room, “Bucky....there’s some things in this world that are so incredibly hard to comprehend and fully understand....you’ve seen the power Wanda can create and the talent of the mind stone inside Visions head. Yes?”

He sits in deep thought at your intriguing words, trying to piece together where you may be going with this, “Of course. What does that have to do with you?”

“I wasn’t actually born like a normal being....rather, I was formed and created by my mothers will and raw power. I was molded by earth, thunder, magic, and chaos.....I am.....well..” You sigh, “I don’t really know.”

“Well that’s......neat.”

Cracking a small smile, you continue on, lest confuse him more, “My mother...which I assume you’re curious about by now. She’s essentially, goddess of the Underworld, keeper of beasts and master of chaos. Some type of divine something, who can really say when I’m not even sure.”

Bucky stays silent for longer then you would like, each extra second making you grow more nervous and regretful for revealing all this to him. Soon enough he answers, “So that means.....Y/N you’re technically a demigod?”

“I guess.”

He pauses for another moment before gently shaking your leg, “Y/N! That is the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.”

“What?” Is he serious?

“You’re a demigod! I’m sitting next to a demigod. Y/N I didn’t think you could be any more amazing then you already are.” Exclaims Bucky in awe as you cover your face in your hands, a flash of lightning illuminating your reaction.

Immediately he stiffens and feels maybe he shouldn’t have reacted that way, “oh, uh.....Y/N? Is that not a good thing?”

“No. Not really.” You mutter sadly.

Bucky frowns, “Please tell me why? Because I think you’re the best person alive and I don’t want you to be upset.”

Releasing your hands from your face, you let out a shaky breath, “It’s why I was created. Not out of love, or the want of a daughter.....she formed me so one day I will turn this world to ruin.”

“Why-I don’t understand?”

“She has made me live among the mortal before, in other realms, other planets very far away from here.....I learn about them, I see how they live, how they treat one another and if she sees that they are terrible and violent to each other through what I tell her....”

“Well, I imprison their world leaders, forcing them witness portals open to the Underworld...where beasts of all ugliness and terror wipe out most of the population.” You reveal, your voice breaking with every word, “I then kill all of them......and turn them to more beasts....hellhounds.....shadow creatures.”

You swallow hard as Bucky takes a moment to process the heavy imagery and story you’ve just told him. You can sense how conflicted he feels, he’s known you as the literal funniest and sweetest person ever; he’s come to fall in love with you even, how could you do such horrible things, “Did you enjoy it.” He asks, voice slightly colder then you would have liked, but you understand.

“It’s all I knew. It’s what she created me for, my only purpose. Her herald of death..I..I can’t say..”

“Did you?” He interrupts, sadness lacing his words now, the anger and disappointment only but a slight simmering in the back of his voice.

Your heart breaks in two, he feels hurt by this news of what you did to others, “I did.” You monster. He’ll never love you now.

The atmosphere is thick with emotional tension, if not for the sound of the raging storm outside, you’re certain you could hear a needle hit the carpet. His breaths are slow and heavy, you can tell he’s deeply conflicted with what to do now, yet he refrains from leaving your side.

“Why did you stop?” Asks Bucky, voice a soft whisper as a flash of lightning illuminates around your sides, ember eyes and two curled horns flashing for a brief moment and your heart sinks when he slightly flinches.

Hanging your head low, you nervously fumble with your hands, “Because I met someone....he reminds me of you actually, I guess I felt...” Biting your lip, you suck in a breath as a stray tear runs down the side of your cheek, “I fell in love....it was a long time ago, before this continent was discovered. He gave me humanity, empathy, and I saw what I was truly doing....I bared witness to the monster I truly was. So I ended it.”

You pause, nothing is said from either one of you for a long time until at last you break the tension, “I don’t deserve forgiveness from anyone. I hate my mother and my only friends are the people here. You don’t have to stay any longer then you want.”

“I want to stay.”

“oh.”

He takes another heavy sigh, “And this whole time I though I was the worst person on the team.” Muses Bucky to your great surprise and puzzlement.

“What? You’re not mad I don’t understand? Not even scared or disappointed...you’re just...uh...”

“I’m what? Y/N what wild thing are you about to tell me now? I cut it off with learning you’re a demigod who caused multiple apocalypse’s.”

Slowly sitting up a bit more, you fold your legs and fully face him as he tries to see you in the darkness, “I can kinda....uh....sense peoples emotions and umm....smell the scent if its strong enough.”

“Can you sense what I feel right now?” Asks Bucky, voice above a whisper though you hear it all the same.

Hugging your sides, you nod, “Yes.” He’s practically ecstatic, he feels relieved and grateful that you have trusted him enough to share something so deep and personal. He smells sweet, better then the most lovely of flowers or most delicious of fruits. He smells of love and hope, paired with a smile that could warm a frozen lake.

Reaching a hand out into the darkness, you quickly take his with yours as he brings his other one in to gently clasp your hands with his, “Don’t believe I would ever leave you Y/N....you mean more to me then anything else in this entire world and I’m honored to be someone so special to you. I hope this isn’t too soon or rushed but uh....I love you.”

The way you subconsciously tighten your grip on his hands is enough to indicate that his words have been well received, “I know Bucky.” You confirm with a small smile, “I love you too.” A second later his lips crash messily against the corner of your lips as he fails to completely find them in the darkness. oh, you idiot.

Smiling into the kiss, you pull him into a fierce hug as your lips move slowly and blissfully against one another, his hands quickly find their way around your waist as yours reach up into his long dark hair that you love so much. Moments after you and Bucky fall in a heap of tangled limbs onto the soft mattress, lips still feverously locked with one another. Soon he begins subconsciously smiling into the kiss which causes you to giggle with amusement for how absolutely adorable he’s being right now.

Confused to your cheerful laughter, Bucky breaks from the kiss to gently beck your cheek before resting his head against yours, “I wish I could see you right now.” Mumbles Bucky as he holds you flush against him.

Kissing his stubbly cheek, you quietly snicker, “I can see you.”

“Let me guess?” Humorously asserts Bucky as his fingers trail casually down and up your back, “You can see in the dark too......this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I look good?” He wonders.

“I’m gonna faint you’re so hot.”

And with that said does he pull you in for another heated embrace, tonight's defiantly going to go extremely well for you. Without a doubt.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes

70 notes · View notes

heraldofzaun · 3 years ago

Note

what are your thoughts on viktor and being neurodivergent? though like, obligatory disclaimer that if riot ever did come out and say that "hey! viktor is canonically [something]" that would be catastrophic but i think it is a little bit of fun for consideration

Oh! Well I like to think he's autistic, which is partially because I am too. (Of course in canon it would be catastrophic because haha, oh man, look at how they've treated Blitzcrank's biographies ever since they gave him an updated one. There's some coding in there, alright, and I am... not a fan...)

I’ve posted a lot of long posts recently (this is no exception) and this is also on a kind of tricky subject, so I’m readmore’ing it.

So anyways, while I have to admit that some of the reason why (my) Viktor is autistic is because I am - I think that you can make a general semi-convincing argument. Or I'm so wrapped up in my own interpretations that I can, at the least. Anyways, from here on out when I say Viktor I mean my personal take. Your mileage may vary on applying this to other interpretations.

(Also, thoughts on new lore Jayce's being kind of coded to be like, a stereotypical autistic dude? (If you have any I mean.) I don't like that Riot is doing it, of course, but I've seen a few good rehabilitative takes on it in fandom. @hamartio's Jayce springs to mind, because their Jayce has been developed over the years and also written by someone who like. Cares. Anyways, I have my own personal Jayce ideas that rely on his old lore so he's not really an asshole there, at least in those regards, so I don't really have many thoughts on new Jayce. I think new Viktor is... pretty coded as well, but it’s also insanely stereotypical. The whole “always working, always wants certainty, gets into automation not because he (primarily) wants to help those injured by catastrophes in Zaun but because the catastrophes interrupt his work” thing makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll write sometime on why the rewrite of his lore fails, in my opinion, to hit upon the same themes of his first - would that be of interest to folks? Anyways, this parenthetical is too long.)

I think that autistic Viktor is cool and makes sense, somewhat because of the fact that the ways he goes about solving his problems are, er, unorthodox. (Of course I am not saying that the GE is because he’s autistic, because that’s stupid. This is why I’m kind of squirrely about talking so openly about what I think Viktor’s got going on, and why I don’t really trust if a non-autistic person headcanons him as autistic. There’s a lot of room for that headcanon to just reinforce the “autistic people are supergeniuses with no emotions that work based off of Facts and Logic” trope, and I hate that.) Since a lot of autism is about feeling adrift from/at odds with neurotypical society, I think that Viktor’s general solutions and also his idealistic leanings in the face of everything Zaun is tracks for that. Roboticization makes sense as a way to stop suffering and death, because it’s more achievable than individual feats of immortality through magic or whatever. Viktor doesn’t really get why people would be so opposed to it - he’s made it clear that while he dislikes his own emotions and wants them gone, he doesn’t expect others to cast off theirs. (Maybe he expected that when he was in the thick of his emotional pain, mostly because he couldn’t imagine others choosing differently than he at the time, but not in the current day.)

Of course, externally, when the scary cyborg man who admits to cutting off his own limbs says “no, being a robot is cool, you can keep your emotions even”, any Zaunite (or any person) is going to interpret that as “he is definitely lying”. Viktor doesn’t quite make that leap. (I have thoughts on the whole Theory of Mind concept and I don’t mean to say that Viktor can’t empathize - he does, and does too much - with others, but I think that in this instance he just can’t quite understand sometimes why people don’t believe him.) He also doesn’t quite get why people would be so attached to the bodies that they’re currently in, especially if he can make a mechanical replica. Or why people might want to die and pass into non-existence after a life well lived. (To him, personally, there’s always more to do. Also he’s terrified of death but that’s another topic.)

I also think that Viktor’s empathy is of the hyper- rather than hypo- kind, partially because I feel like outside of self-advocacy groups the mere concept of autistic hyperempathy is seen as like... impossible? It’s also because he generally seems to be kind of an emotional guy in canon before Stanwick, what with the lore saying that “almost no trace of the original man remained” in reference to Viktor reemerging as someone without emotions. That, combined with the fact that he was described as having a “hope to better society” before everything went down, kind of makes me believe that he was a naive idealist type. (Again, not that autism makes you naive, but...) But yes, hyperempathy. Hence "no pain, no wars, no suffering, no death” being part of his ideology for the Glorious Evolution. He gets pretty ripped up about people being hurt, and it’s really only gotten worse over the years as he’s grasped the full scope of pain in the world.

Personally, I write pre-Stanwick-incident Viktor as someone who is still somewhat awkward with expressing emotion, but it’s not due to him not having them. It’s due to the fact that the ways in which he naturally expressed them and in which he interacted with the world were just... seen as odd/different/etc. (I don’t think Runeterra has an autism diagnosis or particularly excellent psychology, even in Piltover and Zaun, so he just gets the “you’re a weird dude” treatment for his entire life.) Stimming or smiling a certain way or talking a lot about his interests or, you know, the general autistic existence is weird to most people around him, as it unfortunately is in real life. So he’s more reserved until you actually know him, because he’s just masking all the time. (Fun fact about my Viktor: he’s pretty expressive under that actual mask of his. It helps to not have to micromanage expressions all the time when he isn’t experiencing a bout of flat affect due to [gestures vaguely at everything else going on with his mental state], although he sometimes feels poorly about not being able to manage himself. But that’s his issues, and I think it’s good for him to show emotion.)

Side note - Stanwick was able to do such a number on Viktor due to: a) Stanwick being very charismatic and manipulative, on top of being an actually smart man and scientist - he’s really a great example of a “good Zaunite”, in the sense of being good at being what the culture rewards, b) Viktor actively dealing with the death of his parents and Stanwick being an older adult who’d treated him kindly and had never seemed put-off by Viktor’s oddities, and c) Viktor not realizing that he’d get backstabbed, because yes he knows that that happens in academia but Stanwick’s nice. Whether or not the outcomes would have been the same if Viktor were more competent at being “a good Zaunite”... well, probably not. Viktor ended up where he did because of who he is.

(Secondary side note: Viktor has a very strong and very black-and-white sense of what’s right and wrong, as well as general black-and-white thinking. You can see how that would have... not helped in the situations he was put through.)

This is getting kind of rambling, but I guess the point of this is that Viktor’s wanting to remove his emotions may be cloaked in the language of them being “inefficient” or “unhelpful”, which would feed into autistic stereotypes, but it’s really more of a matter of them being too painful and raw for him to process. He feels too much and hurts too much, and no amount of positive emotions in the world will (in his mind) make up for the pain he’s felt and will feel. So it’s better to not feel anything at all, isn’t it? At least then you aren’t overwhelmed by it all.

Viktor just hasn’t fit in with Zaun for all his life, really. Not as an odd child who can tell you all about science-fiction and techmaturgy, not as an odd and reserved teenager/young adult, not as a bright young doctoral student still dealing with grief but trying to make the best of it, and... not as the Machine Herald. But now he’s given up on trying to fit in, for better or for worse.

(Other miscellaneous and less serious autistic thoughts on him: generally a pretty fixed diet, partially due to being autistic but also due to what’s easily available in Zaun + what agrees with his stomach. A fan of weight and pressure - I like to think that the reason his outfit is like that is that he finds it comforting, and also that he has a weighted blanket or two around. Special interests of general techmaturgy, robotics, and science-fiction. He can talk for hours about any of those, and has. Both his parents were mildly spectrum-y, his mother a little bit moreso, so they just kinda assumed that him being him was out-of-the-ordinary and a bit strange but not something “horribly wrong”. Oh! And his third arm, which is under a little less conscious control than the rest of him, still stims sometimes when he’s working or otherwise not paying attention to it.)

This was very long and jumped around a lot, because I find it hard to give a convincing paragraph-by-paragraph argument about exactly why I think that Viktor is autistic, or rather why I headcanon him as such. But hopefully it was interesting! I just have a lot of thoughts on him, as well as the general state of autistic-coded or perceived-as-autistic-by-individuals (both allistic and autistic) characters in media and so it’s very hard to do anything concise without branching out into discussing other topics.

#anonymous #headcanons | beneath the mask #//preemptive remark that these are my own thoughts on autism which are filtered through the lens of my life experiences #//as well as that of some aspects (emphasis on some) of academic research. baron-cohen can choke with his theories #//also i did not explain some terms here under the assumption that those reading would probably already know them. feel free to ask if not!

15 notes · View notes

multifandomwritings · 3 years ago

Note

Uhhhhh hi sorry this is awkward, I have memory loss problems so please ignore this if you've matched me before! But I would love a slasher match-up, if you have the time~!

So, first off I am TINY. 4'10" and 80lbs soaking wet. I'm like a bite-sized snickers! I'm super pale, lots of uhh acne/picking scars (head to toe lol it almost looks more like freckles). Brown eyes, neon green shoulder-length deathhawk, snaggletoothed. I have a septum ring, gauged ears, and a couple of tattoos...always up for more ink and metal, though!

I dress pretty casually; oversized t-shirts and jackets, simple breezy dresses, flip-flops and worn boots, lots of cozy thrift finds. And all mostly in some shade of black, gray, or olive/green! Lots of bizarre/funky/mismatched jewelry.

My biggest special interest is radiobiology/nuclear history (mostly nuclear disasters). I'm also into medical oddities, monsters, body horror, video games, and drawing.

I am chronically ill and disabled, so I'm not exactly the most energetic or mobile person, but I very much enjoy be the goofball I am at heart and making people laugh. If I wasn't so socially anxious in high school I would've been the class clown, maybe.

Honestly, my big policy in life is to just. Be kind? The world is harsh enough as it is, y'know? But I'm also pretty blunt when people are being garbage and it's obvious that no one else has bothered to give them a reality check.

Ahh sorry if that's a bit long, I never know what to include with these or if I'm missing something important.

Anyway, thank you for your time, have a lovely day/night/whatever it is where you are~! \○/

Hi! Aww it isn't too long, plus the more you include the better I can think of someone to ship you with! Sorry for the wait lol I try to really think about these before I write them!

I ship you with Chop Top Sawyer! ♥ (I am actually torn between Jason and Chop Top. Either is very cute ;-; <3 Beetlejuice too actually! But I think Jason would adore your kindness and such but anyway, onto the matchup!)

- Firstly, Chop Top would adore your style. Green hair? Amazing! Tattoos and piercings? Immaculate! I've said it before but he'd adore any kind of stylistic expression so :)

- Loves your love for funky jewelry. Very supportive of this. Also loves funky jewelry and will search for things like that to give you (will steal things from your jewelry collection he likes though I'm sorry lol he'll give you his too though!)

- Adores hearing about your interests and sharing his own with you. He'd be easily fascinated by things and loves learning about things you're into. Also very impressed by your drawings, especially if you let him watch you draw!

- Chop Top loves your goofy and funny side so much. You can always make him laugh and smile and he can easily bring that side of you out because he's goofy himself

- If you like to thrift he'll love to go find things with you (and he'll bring you along to his favorite music shops) and if you aren't feeling up to it that's ok too! He'll love to sit and watch you draw or play video games. He adores spending time with you and he's easily curious so anything you want to do he'd be happy with

- Overall I think Chop Top would be a surprisingly sweet S/O? Kind of clingy, very sweet and supportive/easily interested in you and your interests

(Also your size different would be very cute 🥺 I love height differences in relationships haha it's so cute)

#matchups #ships #slasher matchups

9 notes · View notes

sinqrowithascythe · 3 years ago

Text

Torn Families, a RWBY story

Hello there! it has been a few days now and the story is ready, so here it is!

Just a warning first though, this story does feature gore, character deaths and angst.

Everyone had their reasons for attending Beacon academy, and most would tell you without so much as a second thought.

“As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the story books... Someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn't protect themselves!” Ruby Rose, 15yr old combat prodigy and leader of team RWBY.

Others, however, aren’t as comfortable in disclosing the truth about their circumstances, like: The beautiful, yet closed off Blake Belladonna, Faunus in hiding and secret Ex-White Fang agent.

“The White Fang is hardly a bunch of psychopaths. They're a collection of misguided Faunus.”

Most would assume that this is where the list ends, but there is another. A third option, or category, where they’ve been truthful but they just haven’t shared the full truth.

This is where the scraggly hero of our fable is found.

When asked for the reasons behind which Jaune Arc has strived to be a Hunter and train in Beacon (which is a regular occurrence among the student body, it’s pretty obvious why), our bumbling blonde will reply with something along the lines of “To become a hero” …. “To become a great Hunter, like the warriors in my family” or “To help people” which is true….

But…there’s more to it, there always is.

Rarely does someone ever question the reason he chose this path or after any event that led to such a decision, but it does happen occasionally. Some of the first conversations with his friends and even Ms. Goodwitch herself raised the question, with Jaune himself being quick to dismiss it or just repeat himself. Forcing the subject to be left alone question, with, replacing the young Arcs would-be interrogators interests with dissatisfaction and a quick change of topic. This is where the truth remains hidden, a burden laid heavily on our young Knight’s shoulders, where he intends to keep them.

But that wouldn’t make an interesting story, so here we go!

This tale sheds light upon that which our very own Jaune Arc would keep hidden, partially for the sake of his friends, but also to keep Jaune from crying himself to sleep… again…

Long before Jaune was launched from the school’s cliff faces into the emerald forests or the acquisition of his “Vomit Boy” moniker, as courtesy of Yang, the Arc found a burning resolve to fight the creatures of Grimm and protect those who could not protect themselves that rivalled the very star he stood under.

The Arc family estate was a large, dark brick house held deep within a forest, found on an island located beyond the western coast of Sanus. Close enough to still be considered a part of the kingdom, but also far enough for people to be left in relative peace from large city environments, bandits and any extremely dangerous Grimm.

Here, the Arc family lived and prospered, laughed and loved for days and years on end, with the only real worries being the evil bath times and dreaded bedtimes, family’s patriarch receiving minor wounds from guarding the small island village (But everyone just said he looked cooler anyway, so it’s a win!) or the sisters engaging into yet another fight over something that seemed to shake the very foundations of reality to them at the time.

“That’s MY hairbrush!!”

“You have, like, 10, just let me borrow this one!”

The house was run by the matriarch and the eldest of the sisters when their father was away, keeping Grimm from presenting danger to the village where they lived. The younger sisters and Jaune often played their days away, when their mother wasn’t home schooling them in the study where she spent most of her time, even outside the education of her children.

One sunny, beautiful day, with the sun was streaming through the leaves and trees and bringing light and life to all the woodland, waking to every insect, animal and plant found within, this family would be shattered.

The green glow of the forest created a feeling similar to a protective aura of warmth and protection. Here, the four youngest Arcs find themselves running past all manner of compassionate and cool streams with looming, yet comforting trees, hiding amidst the natural playground formed by the rocks of landslides long past and prickly piles of twigs that once held strong to their larger companions. The day was not unlike any other the children had been allowed to previously play in, perfect.

The juvenile Arcs were playing their usual rounds of “Hide and Seek” or “Tag” or some of their own invention, when the eldest of the assembled four found an oddity, one which had never caught her attention before. The Arc estate held no boundaries, save the forest itself as it was separated by a long stripe of a field before another forest began, not five meters away from their own, yet the children had never travelled, nor noticed this odd circular emptiness beyond their own patch of trees. “Yeah, that is weird” The three younger members of the Arc clan agreed, “Let’s try playing in that other forest! I bet there’ll be even better hiding spots and even bigger trees to play in!”

And so, they did just that.

Back at the Arc family homestead

The eldest four daughters of the house were treated to a rather large shock while preparing lunch as their mother had, seemingly from no-where, screeched “NOO!” like a banshee might and flung herself out of her chair, falling to their kitchen floor. You see, Jaune’s mother was paralysed, on the account that after her thighs reached halfway down, they were missing, an incident that predated Jaune’s memory and of which she refused to speak, hoping she never had to tell her children and shatter their innocence. And though it placed her within a wheel chair that stopped her from performing the tasks that the oldest of the Arc spawn find themselves occupied with most days, her smile was as radiant and genuine as when her first child was born, finding real purpose in her role as a mother.

Each did their best to help their fallen mother, only to be thrown aside, much harder than they even knew their mother could push. “One of you, run to the village wall as fast as you can, find your father, tell him that Jaune and the triplets have left the stave!”

“Why?” “What does that mean?” “Huh?” Each questioned, their faces twisted with confusion and fear.

“Just GO! Right now! We don’t have time!” The oldest among the females of the home all but roared at her children, her terror evident on her face, scaring the 4 younger women. Pushing her fear aside, the eldest to ran out the door and sprinted down the trail into the town, where the guard and her father stood vigilantly, while her younger two sisters helped their mother back into her chair and checked to see what had happened.

“Mom, what’s happening?” “You scared us” “Why’d you tell Saph to get dad?”

“I’m fine, but your siblings are in danger…”

“How? We thought they were playing outside” “Yeah, they play in the forest every day! Why’s it so dangerous all of a sudden?”

“Hmmmmm…. The forest that surrounds the house is… special, you’ve seen how there’s something of a circle-like-field around the house cutting us of from the rest of the woods?” She questioned, obviously impatient and uncomfortable, much to the dismay of her daughters, never before seeing her so scared in their lives.

“Yeah” “uh-huh” They replied in kind.

“Well, your mother has a special power and can sense, and almost see, what happens in this circle, if you can imagine” Chuckling the last part, the nerves still very present in her voice. “Normally, your siblings always play in this circle, where it’s safe and where I can see them, but, because we live so far from town the woods next to ours can be filled with scary, dangerous creatures. I don’t know why, but, the triplets and Jaune have wandered into that forest and your father needs to find them, before something bad can happen.” looking away through the kitchen window, into the picturesque scene of the serene forest outside.

Meanwhile, Jaune and his elder sisters were playing a renewed game of tag in their new playground, their eldest sister rushing for her father, while the three under her found comfort in their mother, as a new found fear grew for their youngest sibling’s lives. This new version of tag involved a “Strength in Numbers” strategy, where the title of tag didn’t pass on to another player after contact, but spread so that the match only ended when everyone was ‘it’, basically creating two teams of ever-growing chasers and continually dwindling chase-ies.

Jaune, despite taking part and enjoying himself immensely in the game, found himself growing rather nervous, as he could have sworn, he had heard his mother mention not to go into the forest beyond their own at some point before, but none of his sisters could remember and said he just imagined it. Which inevitably led to them teasing him and saying he was a “Scaredy cat!” which, to a seven-year-old boy, was an offence of the highest order. So, with new resolve and determination, Jaune played with his sisters in the forest, running deeper and deeper into the unknown woods, finding a new and magical parts of the surrounding nature with each new game.

Nothing, it seemed, could go wrong for out four young Arcs, however, we all know what follows these kinds of observations.

The fight had started as nothing more than a simple debate. “I SO DID tag you!”

“Nu-uh! You only got my dress!”

“Did not! I tapped your shoulder! You’re it too now!” “Nu-uh” “So, too!”

This repeated for a few minutes, the two eldest of the triplets bickered back and forth until…

“Jaune!” Both shouted in unison, the fire in their eyes and voices startling the poor boy “Y-yeah?” His anxiety growing, as each girl looked ready to throttle one another all the way home.

“I totally got her, right!?” “No, she sooo missed me, you saw right!?”

“Uhhh…” Was his only response. Truth be told, Jaune hadn’t seen the incident in question, he was too busy trying not to get caught himself, he only came up to them when he saw they were fighting again, wanting to help.

“C’mon! I’m fine, right!?” “No, I definitely caught her!”

Jaune was not comfortable in this situation. In fact, he was scared, scared that his sisters were fighting and felt useless that he couldn’t do anything about it. This is until an idea came across his mind.

“What about Rock, Paper, Scisso-!” “AAAGGGHHH!!!” The high, piercing wail that blocked Jaune’s solution had come as a shock to everyone. They were all frozen in place, the fear and pain that filled that scream had turned them all to stone. And a sudden realization donned upon Jaune, one that only seemed to strengthen the anxiety currently lacing his blood.

“W-w-wait, th-there’s only three of u-us here…” Upon a quick count, they found that they were, indeed, one sibling short. “The scream must have come from her! We have to find her, she’s in trouble!”

“Maybe she just found a big spider! She’s terrified of them!” The oldest of the group stated, a fact which was well known within the Arc household.

“We just have to find her and get her away from wherever she found it!” The younger of the girls offered. This conclusion helped each of them relax, as spiders were the most dangerous of the creatures that they knew to inhabit the forests that surround their home. It brought them comfort, but they weren’t in their woodlands anymore.

They moved quickly towards the origin of their sister’s scream, until they unfortunately found her.

In a small secluded area of the forest, a clearing in the trees where the river widened considerably and was surrounded by large stones that easily dwarf the giant that was their father (as far as they were concerned), where the sun seemed to shine atop the water so bright that you could swear it was fragmented like the moon and resided in the river itself. This was where they found her.

However, the beauty of nature wasn’t what made them stop, nor was it the sight of their sister happily frolicking in the water after overcoming her original fear and relief flooding the trio of loving family members. No, it was the exact opposite to all those beautiful and much more preferable sights (Hell, they’d prefer to have found a spider, really).

What stood in the clearing, over their sister, was a monster.

A monster so dark, it made the moonless night sky seem bright. With markings so red, the blood that splattered its maw seemed pale by comparison. All of this packed onto a fur-skinned nightmare product between man and wolf. And their sister… stuck underneath.

No, stuck wasn’t the right word.

The creature didn’t hold her down, it didn’t need too, the girl below it simply couldn’t move. She was missing large chunks of her little body. They could see her shoe on the other side of the clearing, her foot still occupying it. A few feet from her there was some bloody assortment of meat, maybe something from inside, no-one could tell. Her neck had also seemed to disappear and had replaced itself with bloody chunks of something.

Each child, each one that still had a beating heart, remained completely still. No movement, no thought and no emotion, still enough were to make a statue jealous. The shock they felt was all they could feel, their brains refusing to process the sight before them. The first to break free of the paralysing chains holding his mind was Jaune, still looking into the large, half lidded and dull eyes of his older sister. The eyes that had once been so full of colour and everything right with the world, Jaune had found comfort and happiness in those eyes’ countless times before, being the two youngest of the family had created a close and tight bond between the two. And now, they laid in the red, stained grass, upside-down, staring at him with nothing, endless nothing, a perfect void, drained of any and all life.

Fear and sadness welled within Jaune, faster than the tears that had decided to occupy his eyes could, with his sister’s emotions following in turn.

The negativity had come crashing out of them in waves, comparable to a landslide, only cursing them further. This alerted the creature, its posture bolting upright slouching over the corpse of the young girl turned lunch. It turned at the waist, revealing just how long its arms really were, easily twice Jaune himself, each one holding a different end of the girl’s right arm. What was most terrifying was its canine-shaped head. The lupine resemblance almost uncanny, the bloody maul full of teeth as long as it’s claws and wet with a liquid that Jaune tried his best to forget the source of. The ears atop the skull of the creature pointed toward the sky, looked sharp and swivelled around, until stopping, pointed at the children.

What scared them the most were its eyes, the cold, harsh eyes that were the antithesis of its prey. Where the girl’s eyes had been full of life, joy and hope, the creature’s own orbs reflected hate, despair and death. It’s fitting really, that the eyes of love and hope had been filled with the deepest and most alluring of azure blues and the ones that killed them were as red and terrifying as hell itself would be.

The creature dropped its piece of lunch on top of the rest of its forgotten meal and lowered itself onto all fours, its impossibly long arms stretched forwards and its rear in the sky behind it, as a low yet rumbling growl escaped from between its teeth. Now, instead of pure shock rooting our children to the ground, it was the very fear and anxiety that told the beast they were there. And, in the space it took for Jaune let go of the breath his fear forced him to hold, the creature pounced.

In the few precious seconds, it took for Jaune to turn and push his sisters, the nightmare before then had covered the distance between them and stood right behind Jaune. This registered for Jaune as three large, ragged, diagonal cuts in his tiny back. Falling into the grass of the forest, quickly watching the green around him fill with his own red.

The creature ran after the girls, desperately attempting to flee, knowing its second victim had no chance of moving now. The two remaining girls were screaming and running, terrified of the lupine monstrosity behind them, not knowing that the very fear fuelling their escape them was exactly what made them even more delicious prey.

Jaune watched from his position, chin first in the dirt, as the beast caught up to them and doubled their pace, springing forward and turning to face his sisters, seeing the very same claw that had Jaune glued to the ground tear one of them in half, before she could even stop running. Her pieces staining the grass red in front of her remaining sister. The final sibling came to a stop before the stalking nightmare. Sobbing messily, she looked up from her tattered sister into the eyes of the monster that killed some of the best people in her life and seemingly paralysed her only brother. She began to beg, praying to the brother gods that, by some miracle, some stretch of the universe, that she would survive and make it home to her loving mother, sisters and father.

Her prayers and begs fell upon deaf ears as the beast shot forward, grabbed her temples between the daggers that made up its teeth and separated the top half of her head, sounding off with a sickening crunch mixed with a strangled cry of pain and torment.

And just dropped her body to the ground, discarding her like a toddler drops a toy they’re bored with.

Jaune watched the entire scene in front of him, unable to move or even think, terrified beyond all action or comprehensible thought, not that the he would have been able to move anyway, as the creature made its way closer to him, no longer moving in leaps or flashes, but walking, as its prey was rendered immobile by the large injury in its back. Jaune closed his eyes, tightening them as he braced for the pain he knew was coming, just as it had come for his sisters.

Jaune was so focused on biting back anything he felt and so drowned in his own fear and blood, that he didn’t hear the gut-wrenching scream of agony and desperate sorrow. Nor did he hear the heavy foot falls as something approached him and the beast, racing from elsewhere. What he did hear was the sound of his father’s shield deflecting the bloodstained claws, he heard and watched as his father, blinded by pure animosity and heartache forced the creature of death back and, eventually, decapitate it. In that moment, time had seemed to freeze, Jaune saw the fury and heartbreak on his father’s face, twisted into a cruel grimace, the image burned into his memory, alongside the corpses of his sisters.

Time only began to move again as Jaune’s father let out another cry, louder than all his previous screams, as he began to hack, slash and break any part of the Grimm before him, only stopping when its corpse had fully dissipated, as all Grimm do.

Only then did his father stop, drop his weapons and fall to his knees, weeping at the loss of his four youngest children, screaming and sobbing with his face in the dirt, almost seeming to burrow into it, wanting to find the blood of his children. Jaune watched as his father broke apart, small pieces at a time, tears flowing down his face, almost unending. But, as all things must ends, so too did the tears, sniffles and sobs of the town guard, his face steeled into a grimace of loss and sorrow, the piece of himself being replaced with a resolve, a vow to return his children to their home and never let thing happen again.

The Patriarch of the Arc family stood to survey the damage done to his blood. And here he froze, seeing the unsteady rising and falling of his son’s chest, missing pieces being filled properly again as new tears of joy and relief flood the father’s features. Sprinting to the wounded boy’s side, screaming his name and asking question he already knew the answer to, Jaune’s father dropped to his knees once again, but this time to help his damaged son, searching himself and the land around for any way to comfortably bring his son home. With the frantic search proving to be utterly fruitless, he simply, yet gently, picked Jaune from the ground and placed him on his unarmed shoulder.

Jaune’s father began the trek back to the family home, creating false promises, repeating apologies and crying, for the duration of the trip, moving as fast as possible, without causing the silent boy on his shoulder any more pain that what was already silencing him.

Jaune, however, heard none of these promises, “sorry” ‘s or sobs, only seeing the gleaming, blood-spattered shield, collapsed around the sword at his father’s hip, only able to focus on the warmth his father spread and the thought “That would have been useful” while staring at the blade’s handle, before the pain took his consciousness from him.

Jaune spent the next few days drifting to and from the conscious world.

He knew that he had been taken home, he remembered hearing gasps and cries upon his return, pain from the dressing of his wounds and more crying. Curiously enough, he also heard shouting, which would be normal enough in a house of ten... now seven. But this was different, most shouting normally came from his sisters, arguing about one thing or another or when his parents needed to discipline them, these bouts of shouting, however, came from his parents. They seemed to be arguing over something called “aura…?” Jaune wasn’t sure what if was or even if it was a word, but he did hear his mother scream “I CAN’T LET WHAT HAPPENED TO ME HAPPEN TO THEM, ESPECIALLY HIM!!” To which his father pleaded. “CAN’T YOU SEE IT ALREADY HAS, WE CAN’T LEAVE HIS LIFE IN DANGER JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL HE SHOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR PAST OR THR WORLD!!” This is where the screaming stopped, hearing only loud and quiet sobbing and whispering coming from wherever the shouting had. All he really knew was that it scared him.

Jaune also remembered a doctor coming from town once or twice during those days. It was probably more, but he couldn’t stay awake half the time, what with the pain in his back knocking him out every few minutes after he woke.

It wasn’t until a week and a half had passed since the deaths of his family members that Jaune regained consciousness properly. He awoke to the tearstained face of his mother, the tears seeming to have cut long furrows down her face. She almost squealed with joy upon being woken up by her son trying to brush the tears from her face, the pure elation of her son being alive and awake causing more water to leaks from her eyes.

When the rest of Jaune’s remaining family burst into the room, each had similar reactions upon seeing his mother hugging him gently, with him awake this time. Which was then preceded by the inevitable questions, Jaune explaining everything, each detail clear in his mind, when the tears from his own eyes didn’t impede his speech as the emotions finally caught up to him. Often his family sat together for hours at a time, waiting for Jaune to finish crying before he continued.

No harsh accusations followed his tale, nor any blame, simply hugs, tears and promises from his family.

After that day the house flowed back into normalcy, albeit quieter, until three full years had finally passed. The wounds Jaune had received were not lethal nor debilitating, the claws not digging deep enough and missing anything important along his spine, “a small miracle!” The town doctor had claimed.

The town’s people had helped organise and set up, even pay for the funerals. Everyone knew the Arc children and none showed any particular hatred, only the same small loving-malice that followed mischievous children’s pranks and activities. Any and all real hate was directed towards the Grimm that resided in the forest, evident by the furious stares many levelled towards the trees beyond thew village walls.

Eventually, the dull gleam that seemed to cover the eyes of each family member, the same gleam that held the stars and oceans contained within their eyes at bay, disappeared as they could finally move on.

But, never forgetting.

Whenever the children played, they were always supervised, never left alone. Their father had managed a change in occupation and now worked from home as a writer of sorts. Their mother had grown more possessive of her family and Jaune’s elder sisters followed this attitude when it came to him, never letting him be by himself. At first, Jaune was okay with this, even feeling happy and safe from this caged lifestyle due to having seen the reason for its inception.

However, this did not last. Whenever Jaune had asked about the creature, his father only bitterly replied to ask his mother, to which she would say “an evil creature, but, as long as you stay here, you’ll be safe and not have to worry about it”. This never sated Jaune’s mind, but, was the only definition either parent would ever give him. When Jaune would ask to be trained like his father, to protect and kill the “Evil creatures” in the forest, his mother would shoot the idea down in the exact same way, forever denying combat to her remaining children. On this, his parents agreed and Jaune began to lose his feeling of comfort in his protective cage.

Jaune would eventually learn more of his family’s legacy through omitted records of their deeds in the study and from stories his mother told her children and discovers his own drive to become one of the Arc heroes, prompting him to become a Huntsman, despite his great lack of knowledge on the topic (What’s worse is that he doesn’t know just how much he doesn’t know about it).

He finds a way into Beacon and creates some of the best memories he’s ever had, the best friends he’s ever had and even a new family.

And everything happens as we know it will. Friendship. Growth. Happiness. Accomplishment. The Fall. And new beginnings.

--------------------------------

Hiya again!

thank you for reading my first actual piece of RWBY fanfiction. I made this concept up a few years ago, back when I was (possibly) obsessed with why Jaune knew so little of the world around him, despite a lot of it being vital to being a Huntsmen, So i wrote this little number (I don't know why i made it so dark of a story, but eh).

After rediscovering it, I thought I'd fix it up and post it here and thus, here we are indeed.

I know this doesn't answer how he got into Beacon, but that's not the point of the story in the first place. Please leave any notes of criticism, I'd really love to hear what you though about my story

Anyway, Thank you so very much for reading my work.

#jaune arc rwby #jaune arc #rwby #arc #arc family #hurt #death #gore #saphron cotta arc #saphron arc #comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #dark

10 notes · View notes

obeymeaskme · 3 years ago

Text

Obey Me!: Human and Demon hearts!

A/N: I've been working on a Fanfic for Obey me with a close friend of mine. It takes place after the game, and possibly in a AU. Each of my chapters are about 10 pages long, so I have split them up into sections for everyone! Please enjoy!

Chapter one: The Arrivals (1/2)

Word Count: 1,530

Rating: 18+

The world is an ever changing place. Some make a fair living, and others struggle with the flex and flow of life. Yet there were still opportunities left for two young girls looking for respite from their previous lives. Noelle, a short pudgy, artistic type who was the one to suggest moving to the countryside. Bella, Noelle’s long term friend who was searching for work, had agreed due to the open jobs in the town they had settled into. Even with their seemingly bright future, the skies above their trailer grew darker by the minute. It seemed almost unnatural to them. Noelle had paused outside while helping unpack boxes into the house. She looked up at the sky to stare at the shifting clouds, and shuddered when she caught a glimpse of lightning whip through the clouds.

“I know we're nowhere close to tornado alley out here, but I swear if these creepy clouds mean there's a storm coming, I'm not going to be happy...”

Bella laughed and stole the boxes from her hands, taking what was left of the packages.

“If you're that scared don't stand outside, silly!”

Soon enough the air was thick with humidity, and the girls made their way inside. Noelle began stretching as Bella took a seat on a stray bean bag chair and began to complain.

“I don't know what's gonna suck more. Unpacking, or trying to find our beds. I'm so tired...”

“I'm tired too. We did bring a blow up mattress. I can get that going, and one of us can hoard the bean bags...” Noelle responded with a flat tone.

“You want to sleep on the bean bags don't you?” Bella playfully accused.

Noelle gave no verbal response, and opted for just nodding as she rummaged through the boxes for the air pump and mattress.

Later on in the evening they unpacked most of the Tupperware, ate their dinner, and unfolded their bedding; Creating a small space for temporary living. In the corner of boxes they had placed a kindle that was playing a news station. Noelle had given a second shudder as the Anchor explained that the dark purple clouds was just a rare occurrence, only lasting a few days. Even when pronounced that the possible storm wasn't deadly, the atmosphere felt like it was about to crack. Furthering the girl's concerns.

Bella had crawled out of her makeshift bed, and found a box labeled “Bella's Stuffed Animalz”. The 'Z' was scrawled over the 'S' in an attempt of a joke done by her current roommate. Dumping out the contents, an armful of cow plushies, and a realistic seal squishy covered her bed. Tossing the seal towards Noelle's way she stroke up conversation about their new life. The longer they chatted, the more they yawned until finally both girls had fallen asleep. Unaware of what the next few days will bring.

Morning came, and so did the sun, but instead of golden rays, the previous forecast had turned the world around then into a filter of purples and blues. The same news station played in the background as the girls continued their adventure in unpacking boxes. After the morning had dragged on, a break was in order. It was a new day, and most of the boxes had dispersed. A sign of their hard work. Hard work that Noelle decided was to be rewarded with a trip to the nearby town. Begrudgingly Bella had agreed, and the two made their way down the road. The Town itself was nothing special. A straight way of small stores, and a handful of side roads that probably lead to other houses. Two Stomachs growled at the sight of a Pizza shop where they chose to spend lunch before they had gone window shopping.

Both the girls were fairly happy with the lack of social introductions, and the short walks to the stores were even better. It was a slow pace that they both ached for after years of past hardships and day to day life. A final destination came about, but only by the sheer magnetic allure the oddity shop had given them. The Purple banner had matched the sky above them, though the clouds seemed as if they were soon about to part. A bell jingled against the door as they walked in. Both in awe that such a store would exist in this kind of town.

The shop was a mix of herbs, Wicca and witch tools, and various other hand crafted items that seemed to sparkle on their own. The further the girls went in, the more drawn to the corner of the store they became. Very quickly they had walked up to a bland bulletin board that was littered in 'Help Wanted' and theater ads. Yet among all the paper clutter, they had both reached out to a paper advertising for a transfer program. The touching of their hands had broken them out of their trace, and they looked at each other, then back to the paper to examine it more.

The ad seemed like it was hung up a millennium ago. Stains and aged finger oils had caused the paper to look ill compared to the others. Yet the black ink border and description seemed fresh, and also most modern.

“Where does one's soul inlay in the human body? The Heart? The Mind? Or the Nature of a human's will and desire for knowledge. Come forth to the Royal Academy of Diavolo! Help Create A Peaceful Change with the Human Soul!

No School-Age-Or Degree Necessary”

Noelle chuckled as she shook her head.

“This sounds more like a cult than an Academy. ‘Cause Diavolo sounds like a cult god...”

As if on cue a creaky old voice spoke from behind them.

“So close, but no dice!”

Chills ran down the girls spine as a hunched over, yet tall elderly woman had seemingly mocked them. A blush ran across Noelle's face, and Bella had shifted from discomfort.

“Oh please, don't get so nervous. I'm only playing around. That ad you read is for a very well and respected school, that not many people get in. Well... half because not many people are interested.”

Noelle had shaken off her nerves and read the ad again, taking an application form from the packet. She considered it, and then took a second one.

“there's no number to call...”

“The RAD is a bit old fashioned, but that's precisely why they're good at what they do. Yet they somehow manage to barely hit the mark for modern day technology. I know the headmaster personally, and I tell you, if you want the experience of a lifetime, I'd risk filling one of those out.”

The Woman didn't leave. She seemed to be waiting for an answer. Only when the girls told her they'd think about it, did they get to exit the shop, and walk away from the old ladies tracking eyes. To say they got back to their small home as quickly as possible was an understatement.

After they made a beeline to the door, Bella had turned around and locked it. Giving the girls a feeling of satisfactory safety. The house was calm for once, and though the sky above had finally started clearing up Noelle's hand seemed to twitch and itch towards the papers in her bag.

“I... I kind of want to fill one out... Do you?”

“No, not really. You said it yourself, it sounds like a cult...”

“I just looked it up, and the only thing I'm finding out is that Diavolo means Devil...”

It was a false, calm, silence and both of their tangled up nerves returned as they laughed. Only to try and relieve stress. Bella shook her head and took one of the applications, and scoffed.

“I'll fill it out, but it's not like we're going to actually send them. There's not even a return address on these.”

Noelle read her paper over and over again. Bella was right. It was a basic form with Name, Number, past Achievements, and a whole other list of personality questions. The Academy symbol wasn't even on it. It came down as a simple prank to them. That woman might just be trying to scare them off. Maybe the town had a hallmark type of thing against newcomers? It didn't matter. No, now they had begun filling out the papers as a joke. They took the questions seriously. Noelle wanted to mock “Diavolo” since he'd never receive those papers. And he'd never get to read them. Soon after finishing the applications, they had thrown them out after tearing them up, and reminisced about the achievements written on the papers. Poking fun of their personality assessments telling them both that they were likely candidates.

Dusk had taken over the day, and the clouds had finally cleared. Signaling another day has gone by, and sleep once again took over the household. Leaving behind a finished home, and two cautious sleepers.

#obey me: human and demon hearts #Obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me fanfic #obey me oc #obey me shall we date

8 notes · View notes

gelatinocomics · 4 years ago

Text

"The Maud Couple” Is Good, Actually

[ID: Pinkie Pie, Maud, and Mudbriar stand outside in the daytime, looking at each other. Pinkie is smiling and talking with her hoof raised, while Maud and Mudbriar stare back blankly.]

In my experience, The Maud Couple (S8E3) is generally an unpopular episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic due to the introduction of the contentious character Mudbriar. It's understandably unpopular among the queer fans, who hate to see a shoehorned-in hetero relationship, and some neurodivergent fans who might take issue with Mudbriar's portrayal of autism.

These are legitimate grievances, but I think people don't give this episode a fair shake. I've put some thought into it, and I ended up taking a positive message away from this episode, even if it wasn’t the one intended by the writers. I'd like to delve into my feelings on the episode, which might help you better appreciate an underappreciated character.

[ID: Starlight Glimmer, wearing a mining helmet, smiles and looks behind her. In front of her there are large yellow, blue, and green gemstones embedded in a cave wall. Maud and Starlight’s reflection appears in every facet of the gemstones. Maud looks down as she talks.]

"Another reason I like rocks – they don't exclude you if you're... different than other ponies." (S7E4 Rock Solid Friendship)

Maud Pie is undeniably neurodivergent. Since her introduction, fans on the autism spectrum found lots of things to relate to: her lack of tone regulation in speech, her special interest, and her general difficulty in following the social rules that neurotypical people take for granted. In her first appearance, the Mane 6 found Maud difficult to understand, and none of them could get along well with her. The one thing they could agree upon was their love for Pinkie Pie. Pinkie grew up with Maud and they have an unbreakable bond. It’s a running joke in the show that while other characters struggle with Maud’s oddities, Pinkie finds nothing unusual about her.

The Maud Couple saw the introduction of Mudbriar, Maud’s boyfriend who she met offscreen. However, in his first scene, we don’t know his relation to Maud; he’s just an abrasive character that Pinkie can’t stand. Pinkie is shocked to discover that Maud would fall “in like” (Maud’s words describing her relationship with Mudbriar) with someone like him.

The irony of the situation is that Mudbriar is shown to be just like Maud. Maud says they have a lot in common, and they’re happiest when discussing their special interests. Later, Starlight (already established to be good friends with Maud) points out that Mudbriar sounds just like Maud, and Pinkie has trouble accepting that. The rest of the episode is about Pinkie learning to respect her sister’s love for Mudbriar, even if she can’t personally understand it.

[ID: Pinkie Pie wraps Maud and Mudbriar in a hug as they all sit together on a clifftop. The sun is setting behind them. Maud looks at Pinkie and smiles, while Mudbriar looks blankly at Pinkie.]

“Technically?! You’re right!”

Those are the facts of the episode. If Maud is such a popular character, why do so many fans have a bad reaction to Mudbriar? Is the episode wrong in portraying them as the same?

For starters, I think it’s notable that Mudbriar was not initially a sympathetic character in this episode. His first appearance has him severely aggravating Pinkie Pie, and the audience can easily sympathize with her. It’s a clever bit of writing that gives the audience the same exact struggle as Pinkie throughout the episode. The trouble is that many fans don’t feel satisfied by the end, and they can’t embrace Mudbriar the way Pinkie does.

Let’s take a look at Mudbriar’s behavior. Unlike Maud, he has a habit of correcting people over any little technicality. He brings the conversation to a halt when someone speaks with any ambiguity or inaccuracy, even something mundane that most would overlook as a normal and expected part of conversation. In fact, it seems to be his primary mode of communication. Like Maud, he doesn’t follow the typical rules of social interaction, which can make his conversations awkward and unpleasant.

Mudbriar’s behavior can be particularly off-putting to anyone who has experienced something like it. People who engage with internet communities have probably seen their fair share of pedantry-- an obsession with details that's frustrating to anyone trying to carry on a genuine conversation. I’ve seen Mudbriar’s behavior compared to “mansplaining” and Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory, a character often cited as poor autistic representation (I can’t comment on this since I haven’t seen the show). The neurodivergent audience might not appreciate seeing an autistic character portrayed as annoying and abrasive, since that’s not how autistic people want to be seen.

[ID: Mudbriar and Pinkie Pie are standing in Pinkie’s party cave, with piles and shelves of party supplies in the background. Pinkie aggressively pushes her snout in Mudbriar’s face and scowls at him. Mudbriar looks down at her with a slight grimace.]

Mudbriar isn’t easy to get along with.

I’ve been very careful to avoid describing Mudbriar’s behavior as arrogant or rude, as it might initially seem. There’s a reason for this: Mudbriar is well-intentioned and never does anything mean. Despite the way his correction habit might come across, he never says anything to imply that he thinks he’s superior. He doesn’t look down on anypony. He genuinely tries to be helpful. He never even reveals any dislike for Pinkie Pie. Whether you would describe him as polite or rude is pretty subjective, but you’d be hard-pressed to find any real evidence that he’s condescending. Watch the episode again with this in mind, and you may find that Mudbriar is a much more pleasant character than you thought.

It’s pretty clear that his conversational habit has nothing to do with a sense of superiority. It could be better described as a simple quirk. He might genuinely have difficulty reading ambiguity in conversation, so he needs to find clarity before proceeding. It’s unfortunate that this quirk makes him come across as unpleasant, not only to neurotypical people, but also to other neurodivergent people who can’t vibe with this style of communication. But at least he found somepony who understands.

[ID: Maud and Mudbriar are standing outside in the daytime. Maud smiles at Mudbriar, who is talking happily with his eyes closed.]

Maud has no issue with Mudbriar’s constant corrections. In fact, they’re happiest when correcting each other.

So what does this say about his autistic rep? Well, every autistic person will feel differently. We certainly won’t all be able to relate to Mudbriar’s specific portrayal. But I’m sure a lot of autistic people can relate to being misunderstood for the way we talk or emote, for people reading extra meaning into our manner of communication that just isn’t there. I won’t say MLP:FIM is the most progressive show when it comes to autistic rep; there’s plenty to be said about its neurotypical perspective, consistently treating its autistic characters as a narrative “other”. But there’s plenty to appreciate as well.

This is the message I took away from this episode: at times in your life, you’re always going to meet someone with an experience you can’t quite understand or relate to. You may even be unable to get along with them for whatever reason, and that’s fine. Just give them a fair chance to be themselves without assuming the worst. This is a message I’ve taken with me everywhere, not just for neurodivergence, but for every way that people can be different from one another.

Is this the message that the episode writers intended? It’s hard to say. Pinkie Pie gets a lesson from her sisters about how people can be like geodes, and where Pinkie only sees a crusty exterior, Maud might see a glittering gem. It could be as simple as that. And you could argue that the writers failed to endear the audience to Mudbriar by the end. If they did, would that serve the message better or undermine it?

The Maud Couple can be a challenging episode to enjoy, but I like a good challenge, and I ended up enjoying it more once I took the time to think about it. And if you’ve read this far, I’m hoping that even if you can’t enjoy Mudbriar that much, you can at least appreciate what he stands for.

[ID: Pinkie Pie and Mudbriar are standing over a table in Ponyville. There’s a log wrapped up in gift wrap between them. They are smiling and shaking hooves with each other.]

#my little pony #pinkie pie #maud pie #mudbriar #autism

43 notes · View notes

maryellencarter · 4 years ago

Text

So the final cause, if I recall my Aristotle (I was terrible at Aristotelian logic, or at least at what the badly illustrated homeschool textbook said was Aristotelian logic), was that my apartment has been growing irregularly more squalorous for months. Occasionally I would have a bout of energy and put my groceries in the pantry, but for the most part I've been doing well to keep up on the laundry. The proximal cause was... probably the coloring books.

Anyway, this morning I put on pants that were not sweatpants, probably for the first time in months, because going to get vaccinated is a festal occasion and one ought to look one's best. (I put on my cute top with the frilly shoulder straps and the little rosettes, too, since I figured it'd be smart to wear something sleeveless. And my combat boots with the pastel tiedye laces, in case of hiking, which also turned out to be smart. I was decked out.)

So then I went and showed a number of people my ID and my appointment email, and they poked me with a timy needle -- not as small as the one they used in the ER for the insulin that time, I didn't even feel that one, but a very nice thin needle compared to my usual standard of needles, which are the ones they use to try and get blood *out* of you, and often fail when you are me. Then they made me sit down for fifteen minutes in case I took an allergy, and then they gave me a lollipop (I got blue cotton candy, my favorite flavor) and a sticker with a hashtag on it and I left.

Then I got to wend my way back from the place where the vaccinations were happening -- it was a big event on the college campus, since they have a lot of nice big rooms and wide open spaces there -- and it happened I was coming back from a direction I do not usually wend my way from, and I dropped into Michaels. Usually I go to Joann's, because they have fabric, which Michaels doesn't, and Michaels is generally a bit froofier in the sorts of craft supplies they stock at least locally, but the Michaels and the Joann's are right across the street from each other, and I still haven't heard anything about my special order on the floss color that Joann's was out of. Michaels doesn't have the full range of DMC colors, but I took a look and they did in fact have the color I needed.

Then I wandered around some, because Michaels actually does have a bigger yarn selection than Joann's, and I found some Patons Kroy (my absolute favorite sock yarn for feel and texture) in a colorway I didn't loathe, which is *not* something I've been able to find since they stopped making that one colorway with all the orange and black and gray stripes, which I loved dearly and can't remember the name of. So I was like "this will be just the thing for that one lace scarf I was looking at that needs wool yarn in case it has to be blocked to look right", because knitted lace is like that and you can't block acrylic. You can "kill" acrylic but that's different and I'd rather not.

Um. Anyway. Then I wandered around some more, because I get into Michaels so seldom that it's handy to look at what-all they've got while I'm there. Over the past... week or so I have had a sudden bout of wanting to color in coloring books, because that happens to me sometimes; there was an impulse trip to the Walmart way out in the boondocks on the unlit road for Crayola colored pencils, because I decided I was not going to pay eight times as much for Prismacolors.

(The really infuriating thing about coloring books, in my opinion, is that right now you can either find the kiddie newsprint coloring books which are with us always, of course, or you can find "adult coloring books" which are *in-fucking-variably* filled with horses and lions and whales and other large charismatic mammals covered in what look for all the world like quilting patterns. If I wanted to color a rendition of a quilt filled with tiny stripes and polka dots, I'd get some graph paper! And the dots and lines and so forth are so tiny that you can *only* color them with colored pencils, because that's Adulty.)

(Yes, I know they sell coloring pages on Etsy and places. I've been avoiding the print shop for at least a month and a half now, when if I would put the things on my thumb drive and go to it, I could start getting my student loans out of default. I would never wind up printing coloring pages off of Etsy. No, I don't know why. Print shops scare me, perhaps slightly worse than post offices.)

Um. Where was I? So I had gone way far out to the Walmart nobody goes to which therefore often has interesting things in stock, and I had discovered that Crayola still does the glitter crayons I had coveted as a tiny, and they also make double-ended scented markers, which are like the coolest thing ever to the tiny early-nineties child I still am in my heart. So as of this morning, my kitchen counter was completely covered with... things. There was already the sewing machine and the Dr Pepper that doesn't taste like an old shoe, and the peanut butter and the elephant-shaped porcelain wax-warmer, but there had been a narrow slot where I could put a plate and eat my meals -- my only table having been co-opted a year ago by my workstation. Now that slot was filled with various Crayola products and a coloring book with mermaids in it, which at least had a few pages that could be colored partly with markers or crayons, instead of being entirely minced into geometric shapes barely larger than a pencil lead.

SO, what happened after I got vaccinated and found yarn and floss, is that I found out that Crayola still makes the *pearlescent* crayons I coveted even more as a kid. I had gotten one in a little sample pack included with my big 64-box, and it was very precious to me. It's long gone now, of course.

So of course then I bought the pearlescent crayons, and then I bitched at Leia for a while about how I didn't have any coloring books I could use these wonderful crayons *on* unless I wanted to go back to the Lisa Frank newsprint of my youth. (They did actually have Lisa Frank. I strongly considered it. But my tastes have evolved beyond newsprint.)

Then I googled some things, and I found Walmart listing a Crayola mandala coloring book. I went to look for it, and I didn't find it, but I did find a different coloring book with "stained glass" style pictures (sadly not on actual tracing paper, but it occurs to me that if I could source some tracing paper, which it further occurs to me that I haven't seen in years although admittedly I haven't been looking, that I could *trace them* and color them and tape them on my windows like the tacky '90s kid I am), which GLORY HALLELUJAH has spaces big enough to fucking color in!

...Michaels also had neon and metallic Crayola crayons. I might go back. They were 24-packs of each. The single silver and gold crayons from my mom's 64-pack were pretty much only used for Easter eggs in our house, so as not to use them up. I just -- I have a wealth beyond imagining of special effect crayons and markers available to me, and I'm struggling to find anywhere to use them. This seems backwards.

So anyway, then I also found a cute sundress big enough to go over my ass, and then I sat in the furniture section for a while and pondered buying a new table so I wouldn't have to keep stacking coloring books on top of the peanut butter jar in order to eat, and it occurred to me that if I took down my Christmas tree, which I've had up since the Before Times (having gotten it from in fact the same Walmart east of anywhere after all the rest in town were sold out of the particular model), then I would have a space along the back of the kitchen counter where I could hypothetically put a table.

So, because I am a sensible and moderate individual, I bought a thing of string to tie up the Christmas tree branches with, and did not buy a table yet. Then it was time for D&D, so I hurried home and put my vaccination card on the fridge and got into the voice chat and started taking down the Christmas tree.

Then it was five hours later, and I had started konmari-ing the whole apartment in order to have somewhere to store the Christmas tree, and I had discovered that my closet shelf was almost entirely full of empty cardboard boxes, so I had pulled all those out and rifled through them to make sure they didn't contain anything important, and after rescuing three cards from a friend and one glasses chamois, I stuffed most of the boxes in a trash bag, jammed the condensed Christmas tree and all the winter blankets and my air mattress and various other wintry things into the giant box my office chair came in, managed to get that giant box up onto the closet shelf (I have some soreness around my injection site but I honestly don't know if it's a side effect of the vaccination or a pulled muscle from wiggling a very large heavy box into a very tight space over my head), and moved the Goodwill oddities into a midsize box that I think I brought my workstation home in, but they just moved the remaining onsite agents into a much smaller room so I don't think I'm going to be asked to bring my workstation back for a while, and when I do go to bring it back I think the monitors will fit nicely in my washtub.

(I'm giving Goodwill my crockpot. After I forgot the garbanzos in it for three days until the chicken broth started to stink, I decided I am not a person who needs to own a crockpot. Also something like eight skeins of rather ugly yarn because I bought too much for the baby blankets I was making.)

(I'm not sure why I own a washtub. It's bright blue and plastic. It does have a use, which is to hand-wash my weighted blanket in occasionally, as of course you can't put twenty-odd pounds of glass baubles in a washing machine.)

(I certainly did make some life choices that led me here, did I not.)

Annnnyway, so now I have an almost empty three-drawer Rubbermaid dresser, an entirely empty and extremely large Rubbermaid tote (I'm pretty sure I could trap myself in there, but I haven't tried), a mostly empty square ottoman which is also a storage box, and a royal shitton of tiny things like office supplies and party favors that don't *go* anywhere.

"A place for everything" is the really hard part, you know. I achieved it once. Then I moved out of that apartment and have never achieved it again. Once things *have* places, then even if you don't have the spoons to put the peanut butter jar back in the pantry right *now*, you know it has a spot between the Hormel and the Chef Boyardee, and it's way easier than "oh god if I open the pantry there won't be any room and I'll wind up putting the peanut butter under the bathroom sink with the Johnnie Walker Black or maybe over the kitchen sink on top of the Thermacare back wraps."

(You're supposed to store whisky upright in a cool dark place, okay. None of the upper cabinet shelves are tall enough, so I could have put it either directly over the water heater or directly next to the oven. Instead it lurks behind the toilet paper, next to the Clorox wipes and the pre-pandemic Lush bath bomb, which I should... probably use at some point.)

Erm. So then I was pondering what-all storage I would need to source in order to begin having places in which to put things, *findable* places which is the real grail, and -- I think I took a pause to read Dreamwidth and someone linked me a plushie trilobite, okay. I haven't yet entirely decided whether to buy it, but it occurred to me that I definitely have no home for a plushie trilobite, any more than for the amazing Zaeed plushie currently trapped under my cross stitching or the Star Wars Build-a-Bear who was supposed to make Ewok noises until three weeks of freeze-thaw cycle in a malfunctioning package locker did for his electronic squeaker, or the poor American Girl doll languishing inside the ottoman.

So then I was like "we used to have that little net corner hammock for stuffed animals when I was a kid, we never could get it mounted right, but perhaps with fewer cooks that would be a good option". So I googled for one, and all I could find was an assortment of JUMBO five-or-six-foot-long double-deep toy hammocks, obviously necessary to keep your child from drowning in the flood of stuffed animals that have taken over beds in the past thirty years.

(Okay, I was pretty toy-deprived as a kid, the 1980s were not in general what you would call a time of less stuff in American households. Still. I have a twin bed. I can hardly even *find* a toy hammock that wouldn't be bigger than my bed in some dimension.)

So then, it being the aforementioned five hours later with a lot of D&D combined with hard physical labor in the middle, I said to myself, said I, "Hammocks are made out of net, and nets are made out of strings." And by god, if there is one thing I'm better at than another, it is making things out of string. I've never actually gotten around to trying out the whole process of making an actual fisherman's net, which is much more closely related to tatting than to knitting, but I have yarn and most of the possible knitting or crocheting supplies I would need to invent things.

Which, at long last, explains why I have paused to write this halfway through creating a triangular filet crochet toy hammock out of sparkly yellow yarn.

Joann's is having a 50% off sale on plastic storage whatsits tomorrow, but I think I'll probably spend a large part of the day putting office supplies into ziploc bags and hanging them in rows on the wall with pushpins so as to figure out what-all I in fact own.

#i feel like this probably needs at least a few warning tags #but i have no idea what those would be at this point

6 notes · View notes